Chapter 1 : Stranger
My POV:
I don't think we ever realise the importance of a moment while we are living it.
At that moment, it's just a moment.
A normal evening.
A random conversation.
A person you have never met before.
You don't know that years later, you might remember the exact weather, the exact place, the exact words they said.
You don't know that a stranger can leave you with a story you'll carry for a long time.
Maybe that's what makes some meetings beautiful.
They don't come with a warning.
They don't ask for permission.
They just happen.
And sometimes, the person sitting next to you for a few hours knows nothing about your life—and yet, somehow, you end up knowing more about theirs than people who have known them for years.
But before I tell you about this stranger's story, let me tell you a little about myself.
Not because my story is important to his.
It isn't.
Our lives had nothing in common.
I didn't know him.
He didn't know me.
And before that evening, there was absolutely no reason for our paths to cross.
I was just a normal girl.
At least, that's how I liked to think of myself.
I studied well.
I laughed a lot.
I had friends.
I could turn the most serious situation into a joke if I wanted to.
Whenever someone around me was stressed, I was usually the one saying,
“Arre chill yaar, itna mat socho.”
If someone got bad marks, I'd say,
“Next time better kar lena.”
If someone was nervous before an exam, I'd somehow make them laugh five minutes before the paper.
People thought I was the kind of person who didn't take much tension.
And honestly, I never tried to prove them wrong.
I liked being that person.
The easy-going one.
The one who could laugh things off.
The one who didn't make every small problem into a big deal.
Of course, that didn't mean I never thought about things.
I did.
Everyone does.
Sometimes I would lie awake at night thinking about something someone had said three days ago.
Sometimes a small comment would stay in my head longer than I wanted it to.
Sometimes I would feel disappointed and still say,
“It's okay.”
But I wasn't some tragic, constantly-sad person.
I had a perfectly normal life.
Good days.
Bad days.
School.
Friends.
Studies.
Family.
Arguments.
Laughter.
The usual chaos.
And that particular day had been nothing extraordinary either.
It had just been... long.
One of those days where too many little things happen, and by the end of it, you don't know exactly what tired you.
Nothing terrible had happened.
I wasn't running away from anything.
I wasn't waiting for someone.
I didn't have a train to catch.
I simply wanted some quiet.
So I went to the railway station.
I know.
Strange place to find peace.
But there was something about stations that I liked.
People were always coming and going.
Some were leaving.
Some were returning.
Some were meeting after months.
Some were saying goodbye.
And some were simply sitting there, waiting for something they couldn't name.
Maybe that's why I liked them.
Nobody asked too many questions.
There was an old peepal tree a little away from the main platform.
I went and sat beneath it.
The weather was beautiful that evening.
Cool air.
A soft breeze.
The sky slowly changing colours.
The leaves above me kept moving with the wind, making that soft rustling sound that somehow makes you want to stay quiet.
I was looking at the railway tracks when I noticed him.
A boy.
Around my age, maybe.
He was sitting a little away from me.
Alone.
He wasn't using his phone.
He wasn't listening to music.
He wasn't doing anything.
He was just sitting there.
Staring ahead.
Thinking.
Or maybe trying not to think.
There was something unusual about his face.
Not sadness.
Not anger.
Nothing that I could clearly name.
Just a strange kind of stillness.
I looked away.
Then looked at him again.
He hadn't moved.
A few minutes passed.
I don't know what made me ask.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe concern.
Maybe I was simply bored.
“Are you okay?”
He didn't answer.
I waited.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
I looked at him again.
“Are you okay?”
Still nothing.
“Bhai?”
He finally looked at me.
I smiled awkwardly.
“I was just asking.”
He looked away again.
I don't know why, but I tried one more time.
“Seriously, everything okay?”
Nothing.
I sighed.
“Okay, last time. Are you—”
He suddenly turned towards me.
“Can you be quiet for one minute?”
I went completely silent.
For once, I had nothing to say.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
And surprisingly, I actually stayed quiet.
For the next few minutes, neither of us spoke.
The station continued around us.
People walked past.
Someone laughed somewhere.
A distant announcement played and disappeared into the evening noise.
The leaves above us moved with the wind.
And we just sat there.
Two strangers.
Nothing more.
After some time, he finally spoke.
“Sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“I shouldn't have said that.”
I shrugged.
“It's fine.”
He looked at me for a second.
“You talk a lot?”
I smiled.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether the other person is interesting.”
He laughed.
Just a little.
And somehow, that was the first normal moment between us.
I looked at the tracks again.
Then I said,
“Chhote-chhote shehron mein badi-badi baatein hoti rehti hain.”
He looked confused.
“What does that even mean?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled.
For the first time, he looked less lost.
We sat quietly for another minute.
Then he suddenly asked,
“Do you believe in God?”
I turned towards him.
“That came out of nowhere.”
“I know.”
I thought about it.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I shrugged.
“I don't know. I just do.”
He nodded.
“And fate?”
This time, I smiled.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Yeah. I think some things happen for a reason.”
He looked towards the railway tracks.
“Do you?”
“I think so.”
He was silent for a while.
Then he said,
“Then maybe I was supposed to meet you today.”
I laughed.
“That's a little dramatic.”
He smiled.
“Maybe.”
There was another silence.
But this one felt different.
He looked down at his hands.
Then he said,
“I have a story.”
I didn't reply immediately.
“A story?”
He nodded.
“My story.”
Something in the way he said it made me stop smiling.
He wasn't joking anymore.
“I've wanted to tell it to someone for a long time.”
“So tell it.”
He looked at me.
“Would you listen?”
I shrugged.
“I'm already here.”
He smiled.
A small, tired smile.
“You don't even know me.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at me for a moment.
Then he said something I'll never forget.
“Maybe that's why I can tell you.”
I didn't understand what he meant then.
Maybe he didn't either.
He took a deep breath.
“My story has friendship in it.”
He paused.
“Love too.”
Another pause.
“And a lot of things I wish I had done differently.”
I listened.
He continued.
“It's not a perfect story.”
“I don't think anyone's is.”
He smiled at that.
Then he looked towards the tracks again.
“My story started when I was fifteen.”
And that's when he began.
Not with his name.
Not with a dramatic confession.
Not with a love story.
Just with a memory.
A small one.
The kind of memory that seems completely unimportant when it happens.
Until years later, you realise—
that was where everything began.
I didn't know what his story would become.
I didn't know who the people in it were.
I didn't know who he had loved, who he had lost, who had stayed, or who had walked away.
I didn't know any of it.
I was just a stranger sitting under a peepal tree.
And he was just a boy who had finally found someone willing to listen.
But sometimes, perhaps, that's all a story needs.
Someone to hear it.
So I listened.
And he began.....
Chapter 2:
Aarav's POV:
I met Aashiqa while running down a corridor.
Not exactly the kind of introduction you'd expect for the most important friendship of my life.
I was angry.
There was a boy ahead of me who had been bothering someone from my group, and I had decided that talking wasn't going to solve anything.
I was halfway down the corridor when—
Bang.
I crashed into someone.
Books fell everywhere.
One landed near the stairs.
Another slid across the floor.
I stopped.
The girl I had hit stared at me.
Then she said,
“Are you blind?”
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
“You can't see or what?”
I glanced at the books.
Then at her.
“Maybe.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Maybe I'm blind.”
“You're unbelievable.”
“You're standing in the middle of the corridor.”
“You were running!”
I shrugged.
She pointed at the books.
“Pick them up.”
I looked at her.
Then at the books.
Then back at her.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I gave her a long look.
Something about her annoyed me immediately.
Maybe the confidence.
Maybe the attitude.
Maybe the fact that she wasn't even slightly intimidated by me.
“Maybe you're new here.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I am.”
“Thought so.”
“Good for you.”
She pointed again.
“My books.”
I sighed.
“You've got a lot of attitude.”
“And you've got a lot of ego.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I looked at the books one last time.
“Pick them up yourself.”
Then I walked away.
Behind me, she said,
“Unbelievable!”
I didn't turn around.
I had no idea that I'd see her again the next morning.
She was the new admission in our class.
The teacher introduced her.
“Aashiqa.”
She stood there quietly.
Then the teacher pointed toward the empty seat at the back.
My seat.
She walked toward it.
We looked at each other.
Her expression changed immediately.
“You.”
I leaned back.
“Me.”
“The corridor idiot.”
A few people laughed.
I smiled.
“And you're the girl with attitude.”
She sat down.
“Great.”
“Great.”
That was how our friendship began.
Except it wasn't friendship.
Not yet.
For the next few weeks, we were enemies.
The stupid kind.
We argued over everything.
Seats.
Pens.
Notes.
Lunch.
Projects.
She called me arrogant.
I called her dramatic.
She said I had anger issues.
I told her she talked too much.
She said I was impossible.
I said she was irritating.
Somehow, despite all that, we kept ending up together.
I had a reputation in school.
Backbencher.
Troublemaker.
Short-tempered.
The guy teachers watched even when I wasn't doing anything.
I wasn't exactly a bad person.
I just had a terrible way of proving it.
I got angry quickly.
I argued quickly.
I reacted before thinking.
And once I'd decided I was right, changing my mind felt like losing.
Aashiqa noticed all of it.
She never tried to impress me.
Never tried to be scared of me.
Never tried to fix me.
She simply refused to treat me like the person everyone else had decided I was.
One afternoon, I got into another fight.
Nothing serious.
But enough for a teacher to call me aside.
When I returned, Aashiqa was waiting outside.
“You're hurt.”
“Nothing.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it's usually nothing.”
She pulled a small bandage from her bag.
“Give me your hand.”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“Aarav.”
“I said no.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
She put the bandage on my desk.
“Do it yourself.”
Then she walked away.
I looked at the bandage.
For some reason, I smiled.
That was the first crack in the wall.
A few days later, it rained after school.
Aashiqa didn't have an umbrella.
I did.
She stood near the gate, waiting.
I walked past her.
Then stopped.
“You coming?”
She looked at me.
“Are you offering?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I just don't want you standing here forever.”
She smiled.
I opened the umbrella.
She stepped under it.
We walked in silence.
For once, we didn't argue.
Halfway down the road, she said,
“You're not as bad as I thought.”
I looked at her.
“You're not as annoying as I thought.”
She smiled.
“That was almost nice.”
“Don't get used to it.”
She laughed.
And somewhere between that rainy road and the school gate—
our war ended.
Neither of us announced it.
We just stopped fighting.
And started becoming friends....
Chapter 3:
Aarav's POV:
Aashiqa didn't change me overnight.
That would've been easier.
Instead, she changed me slowly.
So slowly that I didn't notice until other people started pointing it out.
I still sat at the back.
Still joked during class.
Still annoyed teachers.
But I stopped looking for fights.
Mostly.
One day, I was about to get into an argument with someone.
Aashiqa looked at me.
That's it.
Just looked.
I stopped.
Later, I asked her,
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me stop.”
She shrugged.
“You stop yourself.”
“No. You make me.”
She smiled.
“Maybe you just need a reason to.”
I didn't answer.
Because I knew she was right.
She became the person I went to without thinking.
If something funny happened, I told her.
If something went wrong, I found her.
If I was angry, I walked until I found her.
She didn't always give advice.
Sometimes she'd just sit beside me.
That was enough.
She knew when I wanted to talk.
And she knew when I didn't.
That was rare.
Most people wanted explanations.
Aashiqa gave me space.
We started spending almost every break together.
She stole my food.
I stole hers.
She complained about teachers.
I complained about everyone.
She made fun of my handwriting.
I made fun of her terrible sense of direction.
“You've been here for months,” I told her once.
“I know.”
“And you still get lost.”
“I'm exploring.”
“You're lost.”
“Same thing.”
I laughed.
She smiled.
And somewhere along the way, our friendship became normal.
So normal that we stopped noticing it.
Aashiqa also became the only person who could calm my anger.
Once, someone said something that pushed me too far.
I stood up.
She grabbed my wrist.
“Aarav.”
I looked at her.
“Leave it.”
“He shouldn't have—”
“I know.”
I was still angry.
She didn't let go.
“Please.”
That one word was enough.
I sat back down.
Later, she asked,
“Why do you get angry so easily?”
“I don't know.”
“Try knowing.”
I laughed.
“You're giving me homework now?”
“Yes.”
“What if I don't do it?”
“Then I'll keep reminding you.”
And she did.
For years.
By the time we were older, people didn't call us enemies anymore.
They called us best friends.
It happened without a ceremony.
One day someone asked,
“You two are best friends, right?”
Aashiqa looked at me.
I looked at her.
“Unfortunately,” I said.
She laughed.
“Unfortunately.”
But I knew.
She knew.
We were.
My best friend.
The person who had met the worst version of me and never made me feel like I was impossible to change.
The person who had seen my anger and somehow taught me patience.
The person who had become part of my everyday life without asking permission.
And I thought that was enough.
I thought friendship had rules.
I thought people stayed where you left them.
I didn't know yet that people grow.
And sometimes they grow in different directions.
Chapter 4:
Aarav's POV:
By the time school was coming to an end, everything suddenly felt temporary.
Last events.
Last photographs.
Last celebrations.
Last days of sitting in the same classroom.
Aashiqa hated the word last.
I noticed.
“You're quiet,” I told her one afternoon.
“I'm thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
She smiled.
Then looked around the classroom.
“I don't want this to end.”
I knew what she meant.
Neither did I.
But endings don't ask whether you're ready.
They just arrive.
One evening, we sat on the school terrace.
The sun was disappearing behind the buildings.
Aashiqa looked at me.
“You've changed.”
“Because of you.”
“Don't blame me.”
“I'm not.”
She smiled.
Then she asked,
“Do you regret who you used to be?”
I thought about it.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because I hurt people.”
She nodded.
“Do you think you've changed completely?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because I liked you even when you were annoying.”
I laughed.
“That might be the nicest thing you've ever said.”
“Don't get emotional.”
“I won't.”
We sat quietly.
Then she said,
“I don't want us to lose this.”
I looked at her.
“We won't.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
At the time, I believed promises were enough.
I was wrong.
After school, we tried to stay close.
At first, we talked every day.
Then every few days.
Then whenever we had time.
Life became bigger.
New places.
New people.
New responsibilities.
New versions of ourselves.
But Aashiqa was still Aashiqa.
And I was still Aarav.
Whenever something went wrong, I wanted to tell her.
Whenever something good happened, I wanted to tell her.
She was still the first person I looked for.
Until one day—
she called.
I didn't answer.
She called again.
I still didn't answer.
I was angry about something.
I thought I'd call her later.
Later became tomorrow.
Tomorrow became a week.
And then—
silence.
Her messages stopped.
Her calls stopped.
I told myself she was busy.
Then I told myself she was angry.
Then I told myself she'd come back.
She always had before.
But this time, she didn't.
Months later, I realised that losing someone doesn't always happen in one dramatic moment.
Sometimes it happens through small silences.
One unanswered call.
One message you don't reply to.
One assumption you never correct.
One apology you never make.
And suddenly, someone who once knew everything about you knows nothing about your life anymore.
Aashiqa had become distant.
But somehow, she was still the person I thought about most.
I didn't understand it.
Then one evening, something happened.
I received a message from an unknown number.
Aarav, I think you deserve to know what happened.
I stared at the screen.
Before I could reply, another message appeared.
But first, answer one question.
Then—
Did Aashiqa ever tell you why she came to this city?
I froze.
No.
She hadn't.
Not once.
And for the first time, I wondered whether I had ever really known the whole of Aashiqa's story.
The screen went dark.
I didn't reply.
I didn't know who had sent those messages.
I didn't know what they wanted.
And I didn't know why Aashiqa had never told me about the life she had before she came to our school.
All I knew was that the girl who had once been sitting beside me every day was now somewhere I couldn't reach.
And there were things between us that had never been said....
Then— Suddenly
Chapter 5:
My POV:
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Mummy.
I picked it up immediately.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“I'm at the station.”
“Where exactly?”
I looked around.
“I'm just… doing something.”
I glanced at Aarav.
“Bas kuch kaam hai. Aa rahi hoon.”
“It's been almost an hour.”
“I know.”
“Come home now.”
“Okay, okay. I'm coming.”
“And don't be late.”
“I won't.”
The call ended.
I looked at Aarav.
“Yaar…”
He smiled.
“What?”
“This is way too mysterious.”
He laughed softly.
“I told you it was a long story.”
“Long? You left me with approximately a hundred questions!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Only a hundred?”
“Don't challenge me.”
I sat back down for a moment.
I had so many things I wanted to ask.
Why had Aashiqa never told him about her past?
Who had sent that message?
Why did she leave?
Did he ever try to contact her again?
Was she still somewhere in his life?
And most importantly—
what had happened between them?
I looked at him.
“Do you know what I think?”
“What?”
“Sometimes people don't leave because they stop caring. Sometimes they leave because something happens that they don't know how to explain.”
He stayed quiet.
I continued, almost to myself—
“Kuchh baatein lafzon mein kaha nahi karti,kuchh yaadein waqt se mita nahi karti,jo log dil ke kareeb hua karte hain,unki dooriyaan bhi unhe juda nahi karti.”
Aarav looked at me for a few seconds.
Then smiled.
“Yaar, tum bolti toh bahut achha ho.”
I laughed.
“Just genes hain.”
“Genes?”
Yeah, my grandfather writes poems; maybe iykyk....
He nodded.
For a moment, we were quiet.
Then, without thinking too much, I asked the question that had been sitting somewhere in my mind since he'd started his story.
"Did you never fall in love with her?"
Aarav stopped.
Completely.
The smile disappeared.
His eyes moved somewhere far beyond the railway tracks.
I waited.
He didn't answer.
Then, very quietly, he said—
“Kaash na hota.”
I didn't interrupt.
Something about those words told me there was much more behind them.
And slowly, he started telling me.
About what happened after they grew apart.
About the things he had realised too late.
About the difference between friendship and the feelings that sometimes grow quietly inside it.
About Aashiqa.
About himself.
About all the things he had never been able to say to her.
I listened.
For once, I didn't interrupt him.
I didn't want to break the story.
Until my phone rang again.
Mummy.
I looked at the screen.
“Oh God.”
Aarav laughed.
“Go.”
“She'll actually come here if I don't.”
“Then definitely go.”
I stood up.
“Okay.”
I hesitated.
Then looked at him.
“Tomorrow?”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Same place.”
He smiled.
“You're coming back?”
“Obviously.”
I took out my phone.
“Give me your number.”
He told me.
I saved it.
Then I pointed at him.
“Same place. Same time.”
“Okay.”
“And don't disappear.”
“I won't.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
I started walking away.
Then turned back.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“You better come.”
He smiled.
“I will.”
And I left.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Not because I was worried.
I was curious.
Too curious.
I kept thinking about the station.
About Aarav.
About Aashiqa.
About the story that had somehow become my problem despite not being mine.
Would he come tomorrow?
Would he actually be sitting beneath that peepal tree?
Was Aashiqa still in contact with him?
Did they ever talk?
What had really happened between them?
Why had she disappeared?
Who had sent that message?
And what exactly did Aarav mean when he said—
Kaash na hota.
I turned onto my other side.
Maybe he'd come.
Maybe he wouldn't.
Maybe tomorrow would finally give me answers.
Or maybe—
the story would become even more mysterious.
I closed my eyes.
But one thought refused to leave.
Sometimes, a stranger tells you a story simply because you were there.
You don't know the people in it.
You don't know their past.
You don't know how it ends.
But once you've heard it—
you can't stop wondering.
I looked at the clock.
Tomorrow.
Same place.
Same time.
Maybe Aarav would come.
Maybe he wouldn't.
Maybe his story had only just begun.
And maybe—
I had no idea what I had agreed to listen to next.
PART 1 ENDS ....
