I never really understood what people meant when they said, "life can change in a moment."Until that day.
The day Kevin died.
I still remember how bright that morning felt — like the world was finally opening up to me. After years of studying, sleepless nights, and late coffee runs, I had finally done it. I got the research position I'd dreamed of since college. The kind of job Kevin and I used to talk about under the banyan tree behind our old school, when we were just two kids with more hope than sense.
I could still hear his voice in my head — "Aira, you'll be the biologist who changes the world. And I'll be the lazy friend who takes credit for motivating you."He used to laugh like that — warm, deep, unbothered by how chaotic life was.
He was the first person I wanted to tell.He was always the first person.
So I didn't even think twice.
It was raining. The rain felt peaceful to me that day. I took a cab and went to Kevin's apartment, I didn't told him that I was coming to meet him after 6 months. Joy was bubbling quietly inside me — I couldn't wait to see his face when I will surprise him. I even smiled to myself, wondering if he'd tease me like always, pretending not to care before grinning wide.
When I reached his floor, everything felt still. The lights in the hallway flickered faintly, and for some reason, my chest felt heavier with every step. I reached his door and knocked once, then twice. No answer.
"Kevin?" I called softly. Still nothing.
The door wasn't locked. I pushed it open, half expecting him to jump out and scare me like he always did. But inside, it was dark — too dark. The kind of dark that doesn't belong to a place that's lived in.
I fumbled for the switch and turned on the light.
And then… the world stopped.
Kevin was there.Lying on the floor.Too still. Too quiet.
For a second, I couldn't move. My brain refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. Then panic rushed through me all at once. I dropped my bag and ran to him, shaking his shoulders, calling his name again and again. His hands were cold. Empty pill bottles lay scattered beside him — sleeping pills.
I called the ambulance with trembling fingers, my voice breaking as I gave the address. The next few minutes blurred — paramedics, police, his parents rushing in, crying, the room filled with noise that didn't make sense.
And then I saw it — a folded piece of paper on the table near him.It was neat, carefully placed, with something written in bold on the front.
"For my best friend, Aira."
The paper trembled in my hands as I unfolded it.His handwriting was messy — uneven, as if his hands had been shaking.
"I'm sorry, Aira. I'm sorry, Mom. Dad.
I tried. I really did. But it hurts too much.
I thought time would heal me, but it didn't. Every morning I wake up, I see her face in my head — the girl I thought I'd spend my whole life with. I can't bear the thought that she'll love someone else now, smile at someone else, build a future without me. Maybe I'm weak. Maybe love isn't meant for people like me.
I'm tired, Aira. So, so tired. I don't want to pretend anymore.
Please don't be angry at me. I know you will be. But I just… can't stay.
You were the only person who ever made me feel like I was worth something. The only one who stayed, who never left, who made my life feel light. You meant the world to me — more than I ever said out loud.
Thank you for everything."
— Kevin
The words blurred as tears rolled down my cheeks, smudging the ink slightly.
"Then why, dummy…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Why'd you leave your world behind… for just one girl? Why didn't you tell me you were hurting this much? Was she really more precious than the parents who prayed for you every night? Was she more valuable than what we had — than us?"
My words broke apart halfway, turning into sobs. "You promised you'd never leave me, Kevin… you promised."
I clutched the letter to my chest, sobbing until my throat ached. Memories flooded back — all the times he laughed, the times he brushed off my worries with a grin, the times I thought he was fine.
If only I had been there.If only I had noticed.If only I hadn't let him face all that pain alone.
Maybe… Kevin would still be alive.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.My knees hit the ground before my mind even caught up.I remember the paper slipping from my hand, my body shaking, the room spinning. I think I screamed — or maybe it was just my soul tearing itself apart.
After that, everything blurred.Sirens. Strangers. His mother's cries echoing through the walls. The white sheet covering him.
And then… silence again.
It's strange how silence can feel heavier than sound.For days, I didn't talk. Didn't cry. Didn't eat. It felt like my body was here, but the rest of me — my laughter, my warmth, my purpose — had been buried with him.
Kevin was more than a best friend. He was home.The one person who stayed when everyone else left.
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I met him when I was six. A week after I lost my parents in a car accident.I'd been standing alone on the same old bridge where the accident took place, crying so hard I couldn't see. People passed by. No one stopped.
Except him.A little boy with messy hair and a chocolate bar.
He didn't ask who I was or why I was crying. He just sat beside me, broke the chocolate in half, and handed it to me without a word.
That was the first time someone had stayed.
After that, he became a part of my every year, every month, every memory.When I moved to the orphanage, he came to see me — even when he was sick, even during exams. Twice a month. Sometimes thrice.He'd show up with silly jokes and cheap snacks, saying, "You better share this or I'm never bringing you anything again."He always said that — but always brought more next time.
When we turned fourteen, we went to the same high school. I still remember how proud he looked walking next to me, calling me "mini Einstein" just because I got good grades. And when people teased him for being close to "the orphan girl," he never cared. He just smiled and said, "She's my person."
He was sunshine. The kind of sunshine that didn't burn — just made the world softer.
But even the brightest light can fade quietly.And I never saw it coming.
He'd had his first real heartbreak six months ago. I'd seen the change — the way he stopped reading novels with me, stopped replying instantly, stopped smiling the same. I thought he just needed space.He said he was fine.He lied.
And I… I didn't see through it.How could I not? He was my best friend.
Now, every memory of him hurts.The way he'd steal fries from my plate.The way he'd text, "Don't stay up too late, idiot," right before staying up late himself just to make sure I wasn't lonely.The way he'd listen to me talk about novels and laugh, saying, "You'd make a better main character than half these people."
Maybe that's why it hurts so much now.Because for fifteen years, I'd never known a world without him in it.
A week after the funeral, I found myself wandering without knowing where to go.I ended up at the bridge — the same one where i lost my parents, but found my bestfriend.
It was raining again. Like it always does when memories refuse to stay buried.The river was dark, restless, endless — like grief itself.
I leaned on the railing, whispering, "I got the job, Kev… The one you said I'd get one day."My throat burned as I spoke. "You promised you'd be there to celebrate, remember? You promised…"
The words dissolved into the wind."I could've helped you, Kevin. You should've told me. Why didn't you tell me?"
No one answered.Just the rain. Just the sound of my heart breaking again, and again, and again.
I pulled out the small photo I always kept in my pocket — the one of us, grinning like fools after we'd won a school science fair. His arm around me, my hair all messy, both of us holding our silly project.I pressed it to my chest.
"I miss you," I whispered. "I really, really miss you Kev.. Why you left me all alone."
The railing beneath my hands creaked, the metal groaning under the weight of time and rust.I didn't care. I just wanted to feel closer to him — one last time.
Then it happened — a sharp snap, a rush of air, and the world tilted beneath me.
I remember falling. The rain against my skin. The sound of the river rising up to meet me.And then — silence.
But this silence wasn't cold.It was warm.
Soft grass brushed against my fingers.Lavender filled the air.Somewhere nearby, I heard birds — gentle, distant, alive.
I opened my eyes. The world was bright. Too bright.
And then—
"Aira…"
A voice called my name.Soft. Familiar. But not Kevin's.
I turned my head. And the world I knew was gone.