"I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you..."
"Take me back to the night we met..."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you..."
Umang's POV
It was a Monday. A special one.
I woke up earlier than usual, feeling a mix of excitement and responsibility. Today, I had an important task—interviewing candidates for the position of my personal assistant. As the director of ISAC (ISRO Satellite Center), my workload was already overwhelming. And with the upcoming project VimanaX set to double the pressure, hiring a PA had become an absolute necessity.
But the real problem? I had yet to assemble a team for the project. Ughhhh... so much work to do!
Dramatically, I clasped my hands together and prayed, "Kanha Ji, please save your bhakt (Devotee) from this dreadful task!"
Living alone in my Bengaluru apartment often led to overthinking. And as I prepared my breakfast—dahi and paratha, a taste of home—my thoughts inevitably drifted back to the dream I had last night.
Rakshit. Again, him.
I always relived our memories in my dreams. And I missed him. It had become a habit—overthinking about us, our friendship, and that painful year that changed everything.
The dream wrapped around me like a warm, familiar memory, transporting me to a time when we were just kids in school, unaware of how precious those moments would one day become.
It was a Wednesday. I remembered it clearly because Wednesdays meant two long second-language periods—Hindi and French. The French students, including me, had to attend a separate class while the others stayed behind.
Rakshit was sitting beside me, but something felt different.
He was quiet. Too quiet.
My best friend—the one who always had something witty to say, a joke to crack, or an annoying question to ask—seemed lost in his own world. He sat there, staring blankly at his notebook, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the desk.
I nudged him gently. "Kya hua? Hindi ka homework nahi kiya kya?" I joked, trying to start a conversation. (What happened? Didn't you complete the homework?)
He didn't look up. Didn't smile. His voice, when it finally came, was distant and clipped. "Kuch nahi. Tu jaake apna kaam kar na."(Nothing. You go and focus on your own work.)
I blinked at him, taken aback by his cold tone. My lips parted, ready to ask again, but something in his posture told me he didn't want to talk. With a small sigh, I let it go.
The bell rang, signaling the start of the language period. I had French, so I grabbed my books and stood up. For a moment, I hesitated before leaving, stealing a quick glance at him.
He didn't even look my way.
When I returned after my French class, the classroom was already buzzing with students—unpacking lunchboxes, sharing snacks, and chatting away.
I weaved through the rows of desks, heading toward mine, and that's when I saw him.
Rakshit was waiting.
He stood by our desk, shifting on his feet, hands tucked into his pockets. The moment our eyes met, he let out a small breath, almost as if he had been holding it in.
"What are you doing here? Khelne nahi jaana hai kya?" I asked, a little cautious after our last conversation. (Don’t you want to go and play?)
His gaze dropped for a second before he muttered, "I wanted to say sorry."
I raised an eyebrow. "For?"
He exhaled. "For being rude earlier. I was just... in a bad mood. I didn't mean to snap at you. Sakshi... woh phirse mere peeche pad gyi hai yar, and it just... it just irritates me to hell......I feel like i'm betraying you if i go close to her because i dont want anone to get close to you so same for me right."
I crossed my arms, a small frown forming. "So, you took it out on me? Nice logic, Rakshit. Next time, should I start yelling at you whenever Krishu annoys me?"
His eyes widened slightly, a hint of embarrassment in them. "No... I didn't mean it that way."
I sighed, but my tone softened. "I get it. But... maybe next time, just tell me instead of snapping.
He again said . “It’s getting hard, Umi. I can’t just stay away from her — she’s a family friend, but I don’t like her hanging around me. It feels like I’m giving a part of myself to her when I talk to her… a part I think is only meant for you.”
Heat rushed upto my cheeks on his comment. Oh god, he is just so thoughtful i mean those others girl die out of jealousy and here mine is thinking about my jealousy before his problems
Anyways.
I smiled softly and nudged his arm gently. “Hey, it’s okay to talk to her sometimes. You don’t have to act like she’s the enemy.”
He looked a bit defensive. “I’m not acting like that.”
I laughed quietly. “Okay, maybe a little. But seriously, don’t just shut her out. You can tell her to back off without being rude.”
He gave a half-smile. “Yeah, maybe I should. It’s just annoying.”
“Exactly,” I said, matching his smile. “You don’t have to be all serious about it. Just handle it your way.”
He glanced at me, and I caught the softest flicker in his eyes. My heart fluttered without me meaning it to.
“Thanks, Umi,” he said quietly gently rubbing the pad of my thumb.
And, I squeezed his arm returning the geture. “Anytime.”
Then he added, "Also... I kind of ate something from your lunchbox."
I gasped. "What?!"
Rakshit scratched the back of his head, looking amused. "I was hungry, and your food looked better than mine."
I crossed my arms. "Rakshit, you know you're not supposed to take anything from a girl's bag without asking! You know personal stuff! "
Instead of looking guilty, he smirked. And then, with that same mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned in slightly, pinching my cheeks and said, "True... but not if she's your best, best, best friend. My cute bestie. Tere mere beech mein kya personal, Meri sweety"
My heart skipped a beat.
There was something about the way he said it, the way his voice softened just a little, as if he were letting me in on a secret. Also, although we both knew that we were best friends, we never stated it. Now that he has said, it feels......different. I felt warmth rush to my cheeks, and before I knew it, I was turning away, pretending to rummage through my bag so he wouldn't see how flustered I was.
Even in my dream, I could feel it—the warmth, the butterflies, the sheer joy that only he could make me feel.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the dream faded, leaving behind an ache. A longing. A sadness that lingered even after I woke up.
As I ate my breakfast, I reminded myself, Move on, Umang. Eight years. Eight damn years. He never looked back. Just move on.
To clear my mind, I decided to visit the ISKCON temple before heading to work. It was the one place where I could truly find peace.
As I locked my apartment, my phone buzzed with a text from Krishiv.
"Didi, make sure you eat properly! No skipping meals!"
A small smile tugged at my lips. Typical Krishiv—always worried about me, even while juggling his own interior designing classes in Indore.
"I will, Krishu. Tell Mom not to overthink. Love you," I replied, a pang of warmth filling my chest.
And with that, I stepped out, letting the morning air wash over me.
So, everyone, this was my first book, first chapter.
I hope you all enjoyed it. If not, please suggest ways I can improve. I have tried my best to avoid any grammatical mistakes.
Please support me by voting and commenting on the chapter.
-Midnight Scribes 🎀🎀
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