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

What the Storm Didn't Take

When he looked down—
Her face stared back at him.

Sahil and Ankita

Still chaotic.
Still ridiculous.
Still perfect.

They bickered daily—over playlists, over movie genres, over who ghosted whom first.

But they were planning a post-grad trip together.

Ankita once joked,
"If you propose with a ring pop, I'll say yes and punch you in the throat."

Sahil turned red for ten full minutes.

They were the kind of couple that made you believe—
Some stories really do end well.

The semester began again.
Familiar faces in unfamiliar roles.
Hearts still carrying old aches.
But walking forward anyway.

Because that's the thing about storms:

They don't end you.
They just change the shape of what remains.

Act 7.2 – Letting Go

It had taken Kabir a year.

A year of silences.
Of shrinking conversations.
Of watching the girl he loved drift farther and farther away — while still sleeping beside her memory.

But today, for once, he stopped running from the truth.

He stood outside Tiara's dorm.
Hands cold. Breath shallow.
Then knocked.

She opened the door.

Her face was calm.
Not surprised.
Not afraid.

"Hey," he said quietly.

She stepped aside without a word, letting him in.

They sat on the edge of her bed — knees nearly touching, but still oceans apart.

Kabir's voice trembled.
"This... this isn't working anymore."
A pause.
"I want to break up."

Tiara didn't flinch.
She had seen it coming from a mile away.

"I'm sorry, Tiara," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I wasn't perfect."

His words barely held together.

She didn't speak.
She just hugged him.

Tightly.
Gently.
Like goodbye.

They sat in silence — for the last time.

No drama.
No accusations.
Just two people who had loved in the only ways they knew how —
and found it wasn't enough.

Kabir's heart was heavy.
But lighter, somehow.

He realized he had been holding her back —
clinging to a version of love she no longer had to give.

And maybe...
maybe the kindest thing he could do was to let her go.

After a long stillness, he stood.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For trying. For everything."

He hesitated at the door.

"I'll always be there for you. If you ever need anything... call me."

Tiara gave the faintest nod.
Her eyes were glassy, but dry.

"Take care of yourself," she said.

And with that, Kabir left.

Not with anger.
Not with regret.

But with love —
the kind that stays quiet...
and lets go.

Act 7.3 – The Realization

The room felt too quiet.
Tiara sat alone, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the door Kabir had just walked out of.

She didn't cry.
Not because it didn't hurt.
But because part of her had already grieved this relationship long ago.

Still, the same question looped through her mind:
"What could I have done differently?"

When had it started to spiral?
When did the warmth turn into habit?
When did she stop choosing him with her whole heart?

She had seen it coming.
But also—somehow—she hadn't.

For a fleeting moment, she thought of running after him.
Grabbing his hand.
Begging him to stay. To try again.

But she didn't move.

Because deep down, her heart wasn't aching for Kabir.

It was aching for someone else.

She reached under her bed and pulled out the Secret Files notebook.
Her fingers brushed over the cover like it was a lifeline.

That book.
That version of her.
That boy.

Arvind.

The memories came flooding back like monsoon rain.

Midnight talks.
Bike rides.
Cricket lessons.

The way he laughed with his whole body.
The way she felt completely—wholly—safe around him.
Like the world made sense when he was in it.

How long had it been since she felt that?

Years?
A lifetime?

She clutched the notebook tighter, pressing it to her chest.

"I should've called more."
"I should've checked in after his parents died."
"I should've told him what he meant to me."

But she hadn't.
She didn't.

She was afraid.
And by the time they met again... he seemed happy. Whole.
With Kiara.

Tiara hadn't wanted to ruin that.
Hadn't dared.

But now, in the silence after the breakup—
In the stillness of her own mind—
All she could think about was him.

Not Kabir.
Not the love she'd just lost.

But Arvind.

And in that quiet, aching moment, the truth bloomed softly inside her.

She had always loved him.
Maybe she never stopped.