And then he changed...?

### **Present Day — Bangalore, 2023**

It had been a week since Aisha moved to Bangalore.

And yet, for Arjun, it still felt unreal. Seeing her on a daily basis after a year of voice notes and missed video calls was like watching a favorite film in person — familiar, but never quite what you'd imagined.

That Friday evening, they met after work at **Cubbon Park**. Aisha had brought iced coffee in mason jars like some Pinterest girl. Arjun had shown up in his office shirt, slightly crumpled.

She pointed at the shirt and made a face. “You really have become one of *those* people.”

“Blame capitalism,” he muttered, taking the coffee.

They walked quietly beneath the trees. The silence between them was comfortable... mostly.

"You never talk much about your college days," she said casually, avoiding his eyes.

He shrugged. “Not much to say.”

She gave a mock gasp. “Please. Everyone has stories from college. Drunken nights, crushes, awkward fresher’s events.”

“I wasn’t that guy,” he lied.

Aisha looked at him for a long moment. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m dating a man who never had a past.”

Arjun looked up at the filtered sunlight between the trees. “Maybe I didn’t.”

But even as he said it, a thousand memories rose behind his eyes — each one sharper than the last.

---

### **Past Timeline — January 2020**

It was the year the world was about to change.

For Arjun, it had already begun.

After months of rotting in his room, his parents gave him an ultimatum. Get a job or leave the house.

He applied. Reluctantly. Half-heartedly. Wrote a resume that looked like a ghost wrote it.

The first interview came from a mid-sized startup in **Andheri East**. He wore an old shirt, ironed with shaking hands. Didn’t shave.

At the interview, the HR manager — a chipper woman in her early thirties — asked, “So Arjun, where do you see yourself in five years?”

He stared at her blankly. “Alive, hopefully.”

She gave a forced laugh. “Any... goals?”

He thought for a second. “I’d like to feel less.”

She stared at him.

He didn’t get a callback.

---

### **Present Day — Aisha’s Flat, Night**

They watched a movie on her old laptop, curled on the floor with a blanket, leftover biryani between them. The movie was some indie drama — too slow, too quiet.

But Aisha liked those.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” she said suddenly.

Arjun looked at her, startled. “Why?”

“Because I want to know what scares you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not much anymore.”

“Liar.”

He turned toward her, brushing hair from her face. “You.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“You scare me. Because you feel like something I could ruin.”

Her hand found his. “You won’t.”

He didn’t answer.

---

### **Past Timeline — April 2020**

The pandemic hit.

Lockdowns began. The world slowed down. But inside Arjun’s head, everything was still chaos.

His friend **Rahul** called often. So did **Riddhi**. His parents grew used to his silence, the way he'd eat alone, or not eat at all.

One night, after a long fight with his father — about being a “parasite,” about being “useless” — Arjun walked out. No mask. No wallet.

He ended up at **Marine Drive**, barefoot, staring at the waves like they might offer answers.

A girl sat a few feet away, also alone. Maybe 24. They shared a cigarette. Didn’t exchange names.

She asked him what he did. He said, “I fall apart. Quietly.”

She didn’t ask further.

She just nodded, like she understood.

---

### **Present Day — Weekend, Bookstore Café**

Aisha had dragged him to a cozy bookstore café in **Indiranagar**, the kind that smelled like cinnamon and typewriter ink.

She pointed at a poetry book. “You used to write, didn’t you?”

Arjun raised a brow. “How do you know?”

“You mentioned it once. In a half-sleep call. You said something like, ‘I used to write her letters I never sent.’”

He froze for half a second.

Then smiled, “Must’ve been dreaming.”

But he remembered.

Every damn word of those letters.
Written. Deleted. Rewritten.

Letters to someone who never wrote back.

---

### **Past Timeline — July 2020**

He got a job.

Small tech firm. Remote work. Low pay. Long hours. But it was something.

For the first time in a year, he opened his email without dread.

He still felt hollow, but now there was a routine to wrap around the emptiness.

He stopped checking her social media. He stopped replaying old voice notes.

But sometimes, just before falling asleep, he’d still whisper her name under his breath.

As if saying it one last time might finally set him free.

---

### **Present Day — Late Night, Arjun’s Room**

Aisha was fast asleep, curled into his chest, breathing softly.

Arjun stared at the ceiling fan, its soft whirring the only sound in the dark.

He thought of how far he’d come.

From being broken in a hospital bed...
To hiding everything behind a practiced smile...
To this — a woman who didn’t know the wreckage beneath the surface.

He gently turned away, careful not to wake her.

Opened his phone. Scrolled to his “Archived Chats.”

Her name wasn’t there. Not anymore.

But his thumbs hovered. Out of muscle memory.

He wasn’t going to message her.

He just wanted to see if he still remembered how to.