The auditorium hadn't changed much in twenty years. The same high windows let in long streams of golden light. The same worn-out stage stood at the far end, now dressed in fairy lights and faded banners welcoming us back. Yet something in the air felt heavier — maybe it was time itself. Maybe it was the ghosts we all carried.
I stood quietly near the back, eyes scanning faces that once walked these halls with me. Some I recognized instantly. Others… had changed so much I had to squint and piece together fragments of memory.
A gentle chime rang out from the speakers, followed by the familiar voice of Principal Adam.
"Alright, my mischievous alumni," he said, stepping onto the small stage with a wide smile. "Before the food, before the formalities—let's see if your memories still work. Let's play a little guessing game. Find an old classmate. Say their name. If you get it wrong, you owe them a drink."
The room erupted with laughter and movement as people stepped forward, awkward and amused. It felt strange—watching adults who were once loud teenagers nervously squint at each other.
"That has to be Rishi," someone called out. "Still wearing that same smug face."
Rishi laughed. "And you still suck at hiding your envy, Asha."
A woman with long curls waved. "Is that Priya? You always wore your hair in two ponytails!"
Priya clapped. "I can't believe you remembered that!"
Even I smiled a little. There was warmth in the chaos—awkward hugs, half-finished jokes, and cautious glances exchanged in the lull between laughs.
Maya appeared beside me, vibrant as ever, her eyes full of excitement.
"Want me to introduce you?" she whispered. "I could go with: 'The girl who used to carry two books and a storm behind her eyes'—or should I mention the time you kicked that senior for taking your lunch?"
I gave her a look. "You wouldn't."
She winked. "Oh, I absolutely would."
I felt the weight ease from my chest for just a moment. But as the laughter died down and people returned to their drinks and quiet groups, the silence that settled wasn't peaceful. It was loaded.
"She's still here," someone muttered from across the room.
"I can't believe it… after everything that happened."
A different voice, quieter: "We don't know the full story. Maybe it wasn't what we thought."
Another cut in, cold and certain: "We'll find out tonight."
I looked down at my hands, fists clenched before I realized. My mind reeled. Do they still think it was me? That I caused it?
The old wounds burned like fresh cuts.
Just then, I felt a familiar presence and looked up to find Principal Adam walking toward me with a gentle smile. His voice was the same—soft, steady, kind.
"How have you been, my child?" he asked, his tone warm. "I missed you a lot."
My throat tightened. I nodded, forcing a small smile. "I've... survived."
"You know," he said, eyes shining, "I've told Maya so much about you. She was the one who suggested this reunion. Said it was time."
I blinked, surprised. Maya—the wild-hearted girl who once cared only about sneaking chocolates and skipping assemblies?
She grinned from behind him and tugged at my sleeve. "Told you I grew up."
I ruffled her hair gently. "So, the little princess has finally grown up, huh?"
She beamed. "Just in time."
The evening was unfolding in strange ways—sweet, strange, and sharp-edged.
But it shifted again when Principal Adam stepped back onto the stage.
"Well," he said, rubbing his hands together, "looks like one of our guests is running a couple of hours late. In the meantime—how should we pass the time?"
Maya raised her hand dramatically. "How about a game? When he finally walks through that door, let's play Truth or Dare."
The room went quiet for a second too long.
Someone chuckled nervously. "That old thing?"
Another added, "Dangerous choice for a reunion."
But the silence that followed wasn't filled with laughter—it was filled with something else.
Anticipation.
Dread.
Curiosity.
Maya smiled like she already knew the outcome. "It's time some truths came out, don't you think?"
And as the room slowly stirred, voices rising again, I couldn't stop the feeling in my chest—the weight, the knowing.
Whatever was coming next… would not be just a game.