Four days he loved me.

Dress pretty

There are some people you never really stop loving.

You just get better at pretending you have.

I'd been pretending for two years.

Two years since I'd last properly seen him.

Two years since whatever happened between us had turned into something I couldn't explain without reopening every wound I'd spent years trying to bury.

And then I went to Chennai for our reunion.

I told myself I was going for everyone.

For the old classrooms. The stupid memories. The people I'd grown up with.

Definitely not for him.

Except he was there.

Of course he was.

He was standing among everyone, talking and laughing like he hadn't disappeared from my life for two fucking years.

And then our eyes met.

I forgot how to breathe.

He was looking directly at me.

Not accidentally.

Not for a second.

He knew it was me.

And suddenly I was fifteen again.

The same girl who had loved him before she even understood what love was.

The same girl who had fought with him over the stupidest things. The same girl who could spend an entire lunch arguing with him and still somehow knew he'd make sure she ate before he left.

I had loved him through every embarrassing stage of growing up.

And somehow, despite everything, I still did.

Which was exactly why I avoided him.

Because what was I supposed to say?

Hi. It's been two years.

By the way, I never stopped loving you.

So I stayed with Darry almost the entire time.

I thought I was safe.

I wasn't.

After the reunion, at Nisha's little get-together, he walked straight over to me.

By himself.

And smiled.

That smile.

The one I had spent two years trying not to remember.

We talked.

I barely remember what about.

I remember his voice.

I remember looking at him and wondering how someone could still feel so familiar after so much time.

And then he reached up and took my clutcher off my head.

He tucked my hair behind my ears.

Just casually.

Like he hadn't just rearranged my entire nervous system.

Then the night ended too quickly.

I left.

And somewhere between getting home and trying to process what had just happened, I realised I'd left my clutcher.

And my AirPods.

With him.

I assumed someone would find them.

They'd probably end up with Nisha.

I was wrong.

That night, my phone rang.

His voice came through.

"Hi, Ayushi ji? Aapka Clutcher pyaare hai bohot."

I swear my heart stopped.

He wanted to bring them to me himself.

So I gave him my chachi's address.

I thought that was all it was.

An excuse to see me again.

Then he said it.

"Dress pretty and wait for me."

And suddenly, tomorrow didn't feel like tomorrow anymore.

It felt like something I had been waiting years for.

I didn't know where he was taking me.

I didn't know what he wanted.

I didn't know what would happen when I finally stood in front of him again, without a reunion full of people between us.

I only knew one thing.

I was going to see him.

The boy I'd loved since I was fifteen.

The boy I'd never really stopped loving.

And maybe, just maybe, this was our second chance.

I should've known better.

But that night, lying awake in Chennai, I didn't know any of that.

I just knew I had to dress pretty.

And wait for him.