And then he changed...?

### **Present Day — Bangalore, 2023**

The arrival board at **Kempegowda International Airport** glowed against the early morning haze. Arjun shifted awkwardly in the crowd of Uber drivers and anxious relatives, scanning every face emerging from the sliding glass doors.

Then, he saw her.

**Aisha.**

Jeans. White kurta. Duffel bag slung over one shoulder. And that same half-smile he remembered from a year ago — the only time they'd met, by complete accident, at a café in **Connaught Place**, Delhi.

That meeting had lasted less than two hours. They hadn’t even planned it. But something had clicked — a spark. And over the next 365 days, texts turned to voice notes, calls turned to video chats, and eventually, long-distance started to feel... not so distant.

Until today.

"Hey..." she said, walking up to him, a little breathless, eyes searching his face.

"Hi," he replied, slightly dazed. “You’re really here.”

"I am." She paused, her eyes softening. “You look taller.”

He laughed. "You look... exactly like your Bitmoji."

They hugged — a little too quickly, a little too long. There was hesitation. Excitement. And somewhere under it all — a nervousness they both pretended not to notice.

---

### **Past Timeline — Mumbai, November 2019**

Arjun had stopped opening the curtains.

The light felt like a lie. He spent most of his time in his room in **Powai**, curled up in his blanket, headphones in, watching old seasons of *Friends* on repeat. Not for entertainment — just for noise.

He didn’t return calls. Not even his father’s, who had started staying late at office just to “give him space.” His mother had gone from concerned to quietly disappointed. Meals were left untouched.

His cousin **Riddhi** visited one evening. She stood at his door, hands on hips. “You need to get out.”

Arjun didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

“Stop lying. You smell like chips and self-pity.”

She dragged him — literally — to the terrace. They sat in silence, watching the Mumbai skyline shimmer like a city that didn’t care who got left behind.

“She’s not coming back, you know,” Riddhi finally said.

“I know.”

“Then why are you still waiting like she might?”

He didn’t answer.

Because deep down, **he was** still waiting. For a text. An apology. A sign.

But all he got was the echo of the day she disappeared.

---

### **Present Day — Koramangala, Bangalore**

They reached her flat by noon — a 1BHK near **Sony Signal**, cozy but full of unpacked boxes. Aisha threw herself onto the beanbag, shoes flying off, hair messy, grinning.

"Feels unreal," she said. “We’re in the *same* city. I don't know what to do first — unpack or drag you out for coffee.”

Arjun leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “We can start with coffee. But not the usual chain stuff.”

"Then surprise me, Bangalore boy."

He took her to a tiny café tucked into a bylane, with mismatched chairs and a sleepy dog at the entrance.

They talked for hours. Music. Childhood. Her hate for coriander. His love for motorcycles (though he didn’t mention he hadn’t ridden in years). She told him about her job shift, her landlord drama, her Delhi nostalgia.

But every time she asked about *him*, he deflected with jokes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her.

He just didn’t know **how much** of himself was safe to share.

---

### **Past Timeline — December 2019**

It was **New Year’s Eve**.

The world was counting down, but Arjun had turned off his phone and sat on the stairs outside his building. A cigarette burned slowly between his fingers. He hadn’t smoked in weeks — until today.

He scrolled through his gallery, hesitating.

There it was — a photo of her, smiling in his old hoodie, hair damp from the rain. He stared at it until it blurred.

Then he deleted it.

Then he opened her contact.

Then he deleted **that** too.

Then he did it again, and again.

It was the fourth time this month.

Inside the house, his parents were watching an old Bollywood movie. Laughter and dialogue floated through the windows, but Arjun sat alone, watching the night sky, the year change, and still... nothing inside him did.

---

### **Present Day — Late Evening**

He dropped Aisha back home. She lingered in the doorway.

"Thanks for today," she said, fiddling with her bracelet. "It was... easy. I was scared it would be awkward."

He smiled. “Me too.”

She stepped forward and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Let’s not overthink this, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

But when he got home, he stood by the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. Same neat beard. Same clean clothes. Same carefully practiced smile.

The version of himself he had built — piece by piece, year after year.

He had let someone new in.

But could he let someone **all the way** in?

And if he did...

Would she still stay?