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

The Spaces Between

Kabir's heart thudded.

He flipped through more pages. All signed with a simple "T." But everything — every story, every line, every joke — revolved around this Arvind.

Not Kabir.

Not him.

There was a boy behind the curtain of her past — one who had been there long before he arrived.

And maybe...

Maybe still was.

Downstairs – Tiara, Oblivious

She paid the shopkeeper, milk in hand, mind already rehearsing what she'd say when she returned.

"I miss you," maybe. Or, "I'm sorry I've been distant."

But upstairs, the distance was growing faster than she could close it.

Because some ghosts don't wait for the truth.

They just show up when you're gone.

 4.2 – "Things He Didn't Say"

"Some departures don't come with doors slamming shut. Just with hands that stop holding."

The Days After

Something changed.
Not suddenly. Not loudly.

Kabir still smiled.
Still sent her memes.
Still sat beside her in the library.

But the spaces between those things began to stretch.
He replied slower.
His hugs got shorter.
He stopped reaching for her hand in public.

Tiara noticed.
But she told herself it was just fatigue. Or stress. Or a phase.

They'd been through worse.
Right?

A Café Near Campus – One Afternoon

They sat across from each other.
Iced Americanos sweating in plastic cups. Half-drunk. Forgotten.

Kabir was scrolling through his phone, nodding absently as she talked about the fundraiser postmortem meeting.

"...and Professor Rao said next year's team will have really big shoes to fill," she finished, offering a hopeful smile.

Kabir glanced up. Smiled back.
But it didn't reach his eyes.

"That's great, babe. You really killed it."

Silence.

She tried to fill it.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

Kabir hesitated — a second too long.
"Yeah. Just... tired. Mind's all over the place lately."

She nodded. Didn't push.
She didn't want to seem paranoid.

But inside, something twisted.

His Room – That Night

Kabir stared at the ceiling.

The lights were off. His phone buzzed beside him — another goodnight text from Tiara.

He didn't answer it right away.

He'd read the notebook now. Secret Flies.
Cover to cover.

He knew about Arvind.
Not everything — but enough.

He wasn't angry.
Not exactly.
He understood people had pasts.

But this...
This didn't feel like the past.

Not the way she wrote about him.
Not the way her eyes glazed over sometimes, when she stared into space.

There was something unfinished there.
Something that had nothing to do with him.