Somewhere Between Almost and Always

Chapter 1 ?

That's it the dam of my emotions exploded and I cried like a mess. She pats my head and said, " it's ok. Tell me what happened?"
I sobbed while speaking, " the-e-y-y aa-r-e leaving!!." My mother's eyes softened.

"Mama this has to happen some day. But it depends upon you that will you be able to keep it or not. I trust my daughter, she can.
I never said it before but it's true that you won life by having such friends. I am so proud of you for choosing good friends.

Now wash your face, freshen up and go get ready if you want to meet her before she leaves. The train is not late like you. Go get ready fast. Mai  khana laga deti hun." I smiled looking at her. My mother is unpredictable sometimes.

I reached the station. Krishna and Asha were already there. Chandni lives near my home, so I picked her up with me. Swati said she will be here in 10 minutes. We reached the platform, the train has not arrived yet.

With trembling hands i hugged Parul so tightly. Asha, Krishna and Chandni came for group hug. Suddenly we jolted for sec, that's when we noticed Swati. We touched the feet of her parents. We all get engaged in talking and clicking photos, and then we heard the announcement that train is arriving on platform no. 2. We all rushed toward the general area.

After some time the train approached and I picked up her suitcase and Krishna and Asha picked up the other 2 suitcases Chandni and Swati helped in finding seats. After settling everything thing properly we get out of the train. The train started moving slowly.. then it escalated its speed and we waved at her till the train disappeared from our eyes.

It wasn't just me. We all felt it.

The group chat buzzed all day—memes, inside jokes, random updates—but it felt... off. Like we were all talking around the silence. Around the fact that one laugh, one face, one constant energy was missing.

We decided to meet at the usual spot anyway—the lakeside benches near the park. It was tradition, even if it hurt.

The sun was doing its usual golden show, dipping low like it always had. The breeze was soft, the kind that usually made us stay out longer than we planned. But today, no one stayed long. We just sat there, scattered, throwing stones into the water like we were hoping they'd skip all the way to wherever Parul was.

"I kept her seat empty," Asha muttered.

"She'd yell at you for getting all dramatic," I teased—but my voice cracked on the laugh.

Someone passed around a packet of chips. Another person played our old playlist from their phone. We all pretended to be okay, but no one danced, no one joked too loud. Because the echo of Parul's absence was louder than any music. She wasn't just a part of the group. She was the spark, the voice that pulled us all into one rhythm. Without her, the evening looked beautiful but it didn't feel alive.

We'll adjust. We'll keep meeting. But that first evening? It reminded us how much she mattered.

It was a day like any other, or so I thought. I had no idea that my 10th board results had been released. My phone buzzed with a message from Krishna, urging me to check my results. A cold wave of panic swept over me as I glanced at the clock. My heart raced, but I decided to wait. I wanted to experience this moment with my mother. After all, she had been there every step of the way.

When she finally walked into the room, I handed her the phone, my hands shaking. Together, we opened the results. There it was: 93.4%. I stared at the screen, unable to believe it. The numbers felt surreal, too good to be true. A tear slipped down my cheek—not out of sadness, but from the sheer joy of seeing all my hard work pay off.