Rahul And Sourav - My Version

Hello from the other side

Sourav's gaze drifted to the window, where the sunlight filtered in, casting a warm glow over the room. "I can still picture you, standing there with dirt on your hands, proudly showing me the first sprouts of our basil and rosemary." He shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

A sudden knock at the door startled Sourav, interrupting the flow of his conversation. He rose from the bed, smoothing a hand over the journal's worn cover before setting it aside. With measured steps, he made his way to the entrance, his mind already formulating an excuse to shoo away any unwelcome visitors.

As the door swung open, Sourav's expression softened in recognition. "Sachin! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in." He ushered his old friend inside, his gaze darting around the room, searching for Rahul.

Sachin’s heart clenched as he stepped over the threshold, taking in the familiar space that was now steeped in an eerie quietness. His eyes lingered on the photograph of Rahul and Sourav on the bedside table, the marigold garland around it a stark reminder of the reality he had come to confront.

"Sourav," Sachin began, choosing his words carefully, "I... I wanted to check on you." His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he feared shattering the fragile calm in the room.

Sourav, still smiling wistfully, followed Sachin’s gaze to the photograph. He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the outline of Rahul’s face. "Yes, Rahul and I at the cricket ground where we first met," Sourav said, his voice brimming with affection. "Such happy memories, Sachin. We were so full of dreams back then, weren't we?"

Sachin swallowed hard, his throat tight as he watched his friend cling to a reality that no longer existed. His gaze drifted to Sourav’s hands, noticing how they gripped the photograph with a kind of desperation, as if letting go would mean losing Rahul all over again.

"Sourav," Sachin said gently, taking a cautious step closer. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out but hesitating, not wanting to rush this moment. "I'm here for you, my friend. I know how much Rahul meant to you... how much he still means to you."

Sourav didn’t look up, his eyes locked on the photograph as if searching for something within it. A flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—passed over his face, but it was quickly replaced by that same wistful smile. "Of course, he means the world to me, right Rahul?" Sourav looked at his bed as if Rahul would answer him.

Sachin’s breath caught, the words he needed to say weighing heavily on his tongue. He noticed the way Sourav’s voice wavered, the tiny crack in his composure, and knew this was the moment he had to break through the illusion.

"Sourav," Sachin started again, more firmly this time, "Rahul... he’s not here, is he?" The question hung in the air, a quiet challenge to the reality Sourav was clinging to.

Sourav’s brow furrowed, his gaze still fixed on the photograph. His hand, which had been so steady, began to tremble as he traced the edges of the frame, his movements growing more frantic. "What do you mean?" Sourav's voice quivered, the first sign of the doubt creeping into his mind. "Of course, he's here. Can't you see him?"

Sachin’s heart ached as he saw the turmoil brewing in Sourav’s eyes, the dawning realization that something was terribly wrong. Slowly, Sachin moved closer, his hand finally coming to rest on Sourav’s shoulder, a gentle yet firm reminder of reality.

"Sourav," Sachin said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Rahul is... he's gone. He's no longer with us."

The words hit Sourav like a physical blow, and he froze, his hand dropping from the photograph as if it had burned him. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and growing dread. Slowly, his gaze shifted from the photograph to the empty space beside him on the bed, where, for just a moment, he had almost convinced himself that Rahul was sitting.

"No," Sourav breathed, his voice shaking as he looked at Sachin, searching his friend’s face for any sign that this was a cruel joke. But all he found was sorrow and pity, the kind that cut through the last of his denial like a knife.

"Sachin... no, that's not possible," Sourav's voice cracked, his hands clenching the bedsheets as if holding on could keep his world from falling apart. "Rahul is... he's right here." His voice grew more desperate, his eyes wild as he gestured towards the empty space. "He's right here, Sachin. I can see him, I can hear him. He's not gone, he can't be..."

Sachin’s heart shattered as he watched his friend break down, the walls of denial crumbling around him. He knelt down beside Sourav, gently taking his trembling hands in his own. "I'm so sorry, Dada," he whispered, tears brimming in his own eyes. "Rahul... he's gone. But he's still with you, in every memory, in every moment you shared. He will never truly leave you."

Sourav’s breath came in ragged gasps as the truth finally, painfully, sank in. The photograph slipped from his fingers, landing softly on the bed, face down. A strangled sob tore from his throat as the last of his resistance broke, and he collapsed into Sachin’s arms, his body shaking with the force of his grief.

Sachin held him close, his own tears falling freely as he rocked his friend back and forth, whispering words of comfort that barely scratched the surface of Sourav’s pain. He knew there was nothing he could say to make this better, no way to mend the heart that had been shattered by loss. All he could do was be there, to hold Sourav through the storm, and to help him find his way back to the light.

The minutes ticked by, the room filled with the echoes of Sourav's sorrow, until finally, his cries subsided, leaving him spent and trembling. Sachin reached for the framed photograph, the marigolds serving as a poignant reminder of the life they had once shared.

"Rahul's memory will live on, Sourav," Sachin said, his voice thick with emotion. "His legacy, the love you two shared, it will never fade. And I promise you, I will be here, every step of the way, to help you through this."

Sourav's fingers grazed the glass of the photograph, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. The pain was raw, the grief overwhelming, but in the depths of his anguish, a glimmer of hope began to take root. For even amidst the darkness, Rahul's light would continue to guide him, a beacon in the storm