Ten days of silence.
Ten days without phones, friends, or Shreya.
Just me, my breath, and the sound of my thoughts echoing inside.
I went to Kathmandu for Vipassana; a ten-day meditation retreat. They took away our phones and watches. Even talking was forbidden.
At first, it felt like torture.
But after a few days, I started feeling something new; peace.
My birthday passed somewhere in between those ten quiet days. No messages, no wishes, just the sound of morning bells and birds.
Still, I didn't feel lonely. I felt... light.
On the last day, I shared my story with a few people I met there. About a girl named Shreya and a boy who mistook confusion for love.
They listened quietly, like my story was a kind of meditation too.
When I returned home, the summer vacation was still going on.
Shreya was out of contact again.
Beshal had moved to the city with his brother.
Smirty was in her own village.
The world felt empty, like someone had pressed pause on everything.
A month later, school reopened.
Only four of us were there three girls and me.
And one of them was Shreya.
She came up to me quietly when no one was looking.
Her eyes were wet.
She handed me a small wrapped gift and a letter that said "Sorry."
Then, she hugged me.
No words, no explanations.
Just tears - soft, quiet, falling on each other's shoulders.
Days passed again.
Then, I got sick. Three days of fever. Shreya kept messaging, telling me to take care.
But when I returned to school, she was gone.
At lunch break, Smirty came and sat beside me.
She looked pale. Her voice trembled a little.
"She never told you the truth, Aryan," she said.
I frowned. "What truth?"
Smirty's eyes lowered.
"She had intestine infection... and it got worse."
My heart froze.
The world outside went quiet again; the same kind of silence I heard in Vipassana.
Except this time, it wasn't peace.
It was emptiness.