Chapter 5: Gateway

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Author's POV

Memory is a fascinating, heavy emotion. Psychologists believe that memory is a process of acquiring, storing, and later retrieving information but memories are not just a piece of information rather they're something that has shaped our present, control our future, something that makes us take certain decisions. They either wrap you like a warm sun on a winter morning or suck your life like a scorching summer sun. Memories are that powerful, bringing a ghost smile to someone, or haunting one every night. We try to replace our bad memories with good ones, but do we really succeed in that? No, bad memories never leave us, they stay with us no matter how hard we try to forget them, they keep playing with our subconscious mind, making us vulnerable and weak at their own will. You keep running from those to find an escape. But can escape be a solution? Maybe for some time but in the end, you need to face all those ugly memories, fight from those to win over those voices. Ayra and Aarav are part of that bad memory which they never wished to relive. Years passed, they tried to forget those haunting memories but failed.

Its 7:55 when Ayra reached Palace House Hotel to meet Aarav precisely to reject him and close this chapter for once and all. She approached the manager and asked him about the table reservation. "I am here to meet Mr. Mehra, whenever he arrives, please help him to find a way to here" she requested to the manager and made herself comfortable in the chair. The hotel had great ambience with dim lights, bright colors, different yet sufficient sitting areas and delightful music in the back. She was still in her office formals, this was a formal meeting for her, and she didn't bother to change into something light. Never mind, she hates dressing up until it's an important office meeting. She ordered a black latte when the clock struck 8:10. "Why people don't understand the importance of time. I already dislike this man" she muttered to herself when a sharp voice called out her name. She stood up to see Mr. Shekhawat, another government contender for this project who could win it besides her

"Good evening Mr. Shekhawat, good to see you" she passed a small smile to him and gestured him to sit on the chair next to her.

"So Ayra, I hope you have prepared yourself well enough to lose this project" he sarcastically passed a comment

"Ayra Rai never loses Sir" she smirked with her infamous confidence

"But Ayra Rai can't win this project without an investor." he commented back

"And unfortunately, Ayra Rai had found the investor Sir." she stressed on the last word while leaning back in her chair and continued "I hope you have enough time to prepare yourself for the defeat."

"Very well then meet you at ministry office for final decision" he ended the conversation, stood up and left the place.

She lied but she didn't have any other choice. She couldn't let her opponent mock her like that, just three days are left for the final meeting she can't lose this project not at this moment. She again looked at her watch and it was 8:25. She had enough reason to dismiss this proposal. She asked for the bill, put the cash on the table, grabbed her bag, stood up from the chair and turned around only to find that familiar face, the one she hates. His onyx brown hazel eyes met her deep black ones, and that moment froze for them.

"The winner for this year is Mr. Aarav Mehra"

"You broke my trust Aarav, we are done"

"Ayra you are nothing but a failure"

"I pray that you never find love in your life Ayra"

Voices. Past voices, those ugly memories flooded their hearts. They had buried them deep down somewhere in their minds but the moment they saw each other every inch of pain, betrayal came back to them, bringing that sour taste in their mouth, that uneasy pain in their chest, that empty humiliated feeling in their stomach. They promised each other never to meet again, but here they are standing in front of each other and looking through this burning sensation. The atmosphere suddenly thickened, the wind became cold and everything around them seemed bitter. Reliving those scars, feeling disgusting, breathing unevenly hard. 7 years, they changed but the hatred is still the same.

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