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

Some Goodbyes Don't Sound Like Goodbyes

Tiara: "Join me for lunch?"

There was a pause.

Kabir: "Ah... I actually have something with Rajiv. Some panel thing."
A quick explanation.

Kabir: "You understand, right?"

Tiara hesitated.

Tiara: (softly) "Of course. Go."

Kabir: "You're the best."
She heard papers rustle, voices in the background, a door closing.

Kabir: "By the way — weekend plan's still on. Movie night. Be ready for bad jokes and burnt popcorn."

He laughed. Then hung up.

Tiara stood there a few seconds longer.
The sun felt warm on her skin.
But inside, she still felt cold.

Back in Class – Later That Day

Kabir entered late.
Hair tousled. Notebook under his arm.

He gave her a half-smile. A nod.
Didn't sit beside her. Didn't whisper his usual stupid joke.
Just took a seat two benches behind.

Tiara stared at the blackboard.

The professor's voice faded into the background.

Something had shifted.

She couldn't name it. Couldn't explain it.

But it was there —
A quiet pull. Like gravity changing direction.

Act 6.2 – "The Silence in the Lift"

"Some connections don't need words. Just presence."

Kabir's House – Saturday Evening

The night had barely begun, but something already felt heavy in the air.

Kiara arrived first, arms full with a tray of lovingly made sandwiches. She placed them carefully on the table, adjusting napkins like it mattered.

Sahil and Ankita entered next—laughing, hand in hand—carrying popcorn and a Bluetooth speaker playing low indie music.

Kabir welcomed them with a warm smile.
"Only two left now."

Entrance – Downstairs Lobby

Tiara stepped into the building just as Arvind got out of a rickshaw.

For the first time in a long while, they were truly alone together.
No Kiara. No Kabir. No noise to hide behind.

Their eyes met.

They didn't speak.

Just walked toward the lift side by side—silent shadows of who they once were.

The Elevator – 5th Floor Button Lit

Arvind pressed 5.

The doors slid shut.

The hum of the elevator began.

Then—
Thud.

A jolt.

The lights snapped off.
The lift shuddered.
They were stuck.

Darkness

The air was still.
Heavy.
The kind of silence that crawls under your skin.

For Arvind, the darkness wasn't just around him—it was inside.

He was back there:
The hospital corridor.
The call from the police.
The funeral flames reflected in his grandfather's glasses.
The train that took him away from everything he loved.