Parallel Lines: a story of memory, silence, and first love

Parallel Paths

Tiara adored her.
She depended on her.
And just like that... she was gone.

No goodbye.
No final hug.
Just a world without her.

Tiara remembered their last Sunday together: the two of them in the kitchen, her grandmother gently showing her how to boil tea leaves just right.
"Chai needs patience," she'd said with a soft smile, handing Tiara the strainer like it was something sacred.
She never knew it would be the last time.

To the outside world, Tiara looked strong —
a girl who had survived too much and still stood tall.
Her friends tried to comfort her. But it never felt the same.
It never felt like him.

Was Arvind a magician? she wondered one night, curled beneath a blanket.
Only he could calm her storms with silence.
Only he could make her feel seen without saying a word.

She cherished every memory she had with him.
And every one with her grandmother.
Now, all she had left were echoes.

She broke down in secret —
in the shower,
in her room,
at night, when the world slept.
Her pillow knew her grief.
The mirror, her truth.

But she never showed this side to anyone.

To the world, she was perfect —
friendly, helpful, top of the class, active in everything, always ready with an answer.
But that version of her was just a costume — stitched together from expectations.

The real Tiara?
She was broken.
Hollow.
Lost.

All she felt was empty.

One night, she unlocked her phone and opened Arvind's chat.
Typed: Do you still think about me?
Then stared at the blinking cursor until her eyes blurred.

She never sent it.
She deleted the message, locked her phone, and turned to face the wall.

But before sleep could take her, she whispered into the dark:

"Maybe one day... I'll feel something again."

Act 2.3 – Closer Than They Knew

time flew by

The messages stopped. The calls faded.
They didn't drift apart with a fight — but with silence.
No final conversation. No dramatic goodbye.
Just absence, growing louder each day.

They both dealt with their pain in their own way.

Arvind had become a shell of who he used to be.
Once cheerful and full of life, he turned robotic — cold, silent, detached.
He barely scraped through his 12th-grade exams.
His teachers noticed. His grandfather worried.

One evening, without much emotion, his grandfather suggested he apply to a private Law college in Bangalore.
Arvind didn't argue. He didn't ask why.
He just nodded and went back to his room.

He wasn't suicidal anymore.
There were still days when he'd glance at the drawer — the one that held the knife — but the urge had faded.
That sharp, terrifying darkness had dissolved into something duller.
Not peace.
Just numbness.

He had stopped trying to heal.
Instead, he simply... adjusted to the damage.

Meanwhile, Tiara had changed too — in an entirely different way.

She worked hard. Ridiculously hard.
While others partied, posted, and posed for the future, she studied, practised, applied, and pushed.
She refused to let the chaos inside her derail the path ahead.

And eventually, she earned her place at NLSIU Bangalore —
one of the best law colleges in the country.

She still carried her split selves — the quiet girl, the confident one, the performer, the observer.
But she no longer fought them.
No longer hated herself for being complicated.