Rain hammered the window of Naira's tiny one-BHK in Andheri East like it had a personal grudge against Mumbai. It was one of those relentless July nights when the city decided to cry harder than any broken heart ever could. She sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the sofa, an untouched cup of cutting chai gone cold beside her. The phone screen glowed in the dark room, illuminating her face in blue-white light.
The wedding card stared back at her.
Shanaya & Vikram
are delighted to invite you to celebrate
the union of their souls
on 18th July 2025
at The Leela Palace, Chanakyapuri, New Delhi
RSVP by 5th July
Dress code: Ethnic glamour
And below it, in Shanaya's familiar bubbly font:
*Naira, please please come. It's been ages. Everyone is asking about you. Especially… well, you know.*
Naira's thumb hovered over the delete button. She could pretend she never saw it. She could ghost the entire event like she'd ghosted half her Delhi life seven years ago.
But her heart, that treacherous thing, had other plans.
She typed instead.
*Hey Shanaya. Congrats yaar. Will try my best.*
Sent.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
*TRY? Naira Mehra trying is basically doing. You HAVE to come. Aarav is coming too. With his girlfriend.*
The phone slipped from her fingers and landed on the rug with a soft thud.
Aarav.
The name alone was enough to make her chest cave in.
She picked up the phone again, hands trembling just enough to notice.
*With his girlfriend?*
*Yeah… Rhea. They've been together almost two years now. She's nice. Corporate lawyer type. You'll like her.*
Naira laughed—a short, bitter sound that echoed in the empty flat.
*Sure. Can't wait.*
She threw the phone across the room. It bounced off the cushion and lay there like a wounded animal.
Flashback pulled her under without warning.
2012. Winter. Delhi University North Campus. The canteen smelled of samosas and cheap filter coffee. Naira, eighteen, hair in a messy braid, wearing Aarav's oversized hoodie because she'd forgotten her jacket again.
He sat opposite her, pretending to study while stealing glances.
"You know you're terrible at hiding it, right?" she teased, kicking his foot under the table.
"Hiding what?"
"That you like me more than physics."
Aarav grinned—that lopsided grin that still haunted her dreams.
"I like physics. I love you."
The words had slipped out so casually, like he'd said them a thousand times before. But it was the first time.
Naira had frozen. Then she'd leaned across the table, grabbed his collar, and kissed him right there—in front of half the canteen.
People whistled. Someone shouted, "Get a room!"
They didn't care.
Later that evening, they walked back to her PG on the Kamla Nagar streets. The air was crisp, streetlights yellow and forgiving.
Under one of those lights, Aarav stopped her.
"Promise me something," he said, voice low.
"Anything."
"Even when life gets complicated… we won't let this go."
She'd laughed then. "Complicated? We're eighteen. What's complicated?"
He pulled her close, forehead against hers.
"Just promise."
"I promise."
The memory stung like salt in an open wound.
Naira stood up, paced the room. The flat felt smaller tonight. She opened the balcony door. Cold, wet wind slapped her face. Mumbai rain smelled different from Delhi rain—more metallic, less forgiving.
She came back inside, picked up her phone again.
One message. From Priya, her only remaining Delhi friend who still bothered.
*You're coming to Shanaya's wedding, right? Don't make me drag you.*
Naira typed back.
*I think I have to.*
*That's my girl. You'll be fine. It's been years. People move on.*
*Do they?*
Priya didn't reply immediately.
When the message came, it was short.
*Some do. Some don't.*
Naira tossed the phone aside again.
She went to the bedroom, pulled out the bottom drawer of her cupboard. Buried under old kurtas and forgotten receipts was a small wooden box.
Inside: a faded Polaroid of her and Aarav at India Gate, arms around each other, laughing into the camera. A friendship band he'd tied on her wrist during Rakhi (even though he wasn't her brother). A dried rose petal from their first Valentine's Day.
She touched the petal. It crumbled under her fingers.
"Stupid," she whispered. "So fucking stupid."
She slammed the drawer shut.
That night she dreamed of him.
In the dream they were back in his old Maruti 800, parked near the Yamuna, windows fogged up. His hand was under her kurti, warm against her stomach. She remembered how his breath hitched when she whispered his name. How he'd kissed her like he was starving. How she'd pulled him closer, legs around his waist, the car seat creaking under them.
It wasn't just lust. It was worship. Every touch said *I choose you*. Every moan said *forever*.
She woke up gasping, thighs pressed together, cheeks wet.
The clock said 3:47 a.m.
She didn't sleep again.
The next few days passed in a blur of client calls, last-minute edits, and avoiding mirrors because she hated the tired eyes staring back.
On the 15th, she booked her ticket.
Delhi. One-way. No return date.
She told herself it was just a wedding. Just three days. Just closure.
She lied.
The flight landed at IGI on the 17th evening. The air smelled like home and heartbreak in equal measure.
Priya picked her up.
The moment Naira stepped out of arrivals, Priya hugged her so tight she almost couldn't breathe.
"You look like shit," Priya said affectionately.
"Thanks. Love you too."
In the car, Priya kept the music low.
"So… you ready?"
"For what?"
"To see him."
Naira stared out the window. Delhi flew past—same flyovers, same chaos, same ghosts.
"I have no choice."
Priya glanced at her.
"He's changed, you know. More… quiet. Responsible. Rhea is good for him."
"Good for him," Naira echoed. The words tasted like rust.
They reached the hotel. Naira checked in, showered, changed into a simple black kurti and jeans. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard.
But when she stepped into the pre-wedding dinner venue, the entire room seemed to pause.
Shanaya squealed and ran to hug her.
Then the crowd parted.
And there he was.
Aarav.
Standing near the bar, glass in hand, talking to a tall, elegant woman in a navy saree. Rhea.
He looked older. Sharper jawline. Hair shorter. But the eyes—those same damn eyes—found hers across the room.
Time stopped.
He excused himself from Rhea. Walked toward her.
Every step felt like a lifetime.
When he reached her, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
"Naira."
His voice was the same. Low. A little rough around the edges.
"Aarav."
They stood there. Two feet apart. A thousand miles of unsaid things between them.
"You came," he said finally.
"Couldn't miss Shanaya's big day."
A small smile. Sad. Nostalgic.
"You look… good."
"Liar."
He laughed softly. The sound punched her in the gut.
Rhea approached then. Graceful. Confident.
"Hi. You must be Naira. Aarav talks about you sometimes."
Naira forced a smile.
"All good things, I hope."
Rhea's eyes were kind. Too kind.
"The best."
The three of them stood in awkward silence.
Then Aarav cleared his throat.
"We should… catch up later?"
Naira nodded.
"Sure."
But later never came easy.
That night, after everyone left, Naira went up to the rooftop alone.
The Delhi skyline glittered like broken promises.
She felt him before she heard him.
Aarav stepped beside her. Hands in pockets.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"Never could when you're in the same city."
He exhaled.
"Me too."
Silence stretched.
Then he spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
"I never stopped thinking about you."
Naira turned to him.
"Then why did you leave?"
"Because I was a coward."
She laughed without humor.
"And now?"
"Now I'm still a coward. But I'm trying not to be."
She looked at him—really looked.
He was close enough that she could smell his cologne. The same one he'd worn in college.
Her heart hammered.
"I should go," she said.
But she didn't move.
He reached out. Hesitated. Then brushed a strand of hair from her face.
The touch was electric.
They both froze.
Then, like gravity had won, he pulled her in.
Their lips met.
It wasn't gentle.
It was years of hunger, regret, and something darker—something that felt like revenge on time itself.
His hands went to her waist. Hers to his neck.
The kiss deepened. Tongues. Teeth. Desperation.
He pressed her against the railing. She arched into him.
His mouth moved to her neck. She gasped.
"Aarav…"
He stopped. Looked at her. Eyes wild.
"We shouldn't."
"I know."
But neither moved away.
Then he kissed her again. Slower this time. Deeper. Like he was memorizing her.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard.
"This changes nothing," she whispered.
"I know," he said.
But they both knew it changed everything.
She walked away first.
Left him standing there.
Under the same Delhi sky where they'd once promised forever.
And now, forever felt like the cruelest joke of all.
The night was far from over.
But that was enough for now