Saanjh stared at Nikhil, trying to suppress her laughter as she watched Pallavi act like she was a helpless victim of fate. It was obvious that Pallavi was laying it on thick, batting her lashes dramatically as she took another sip of mango lassi, giving Nikhil those pleading puppy eyes.

"To tumhara matlab hai... Tumhara cousin mere bade bhai ko pasand karti hai?" Nikhil asked, his voice dripping with disbelief as he looked between Saanjh and Pallavi, trying to process the madness.

Saanjh raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Yup, that’s the situation. She’s been stalking him since her college days, and now that she’s got the ‘green light,’ she’s ready to take a leap."

Pallavi put the glass down and folded her hands in front of her, dramatically looking up at Nikhil. "Please, Jiju... You know what they say. ‘Sister's wish is brother’s command,’ right?" she said, her voice sweet as sugar, though the sarcasm was practically oozing out of her.

Nikhil blinked twice, glancing at the two of them like they had just parachuted into his life from some kind of bizarre rom-com. "I didn’t think my morning would involve counseling a love-struck college girl, but here we are," he muttered under his breath.

"Come on, Nikhil! Just help a sister out," Saanjh said, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing. "You know how she is. She's got a crush that could rival a Bollywood movie plot, and I’m just here to make it happen."

Nikhil let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. "I swear, I didn’t sign up for this drama," he muttered. "But fine, fine! I’ll talk to Vidyut. Don’t say I didn’t try to stop this circus."

Pallavi smiled smugly, raising her glass in triumph. "Thank you, Jiju! You’re the best. I’ll make sure to send you a thank-you note... after the wedding."

Saanjh choked on her water, staring at her cousin. "Wedding? Are you already planning your wedding in your head, Pallavi?"

Pallavi grinned mischievously, "Why not? I mean, I’ll need to look my best when I finally catch his attention. Maybe I’ll start designing my outfit now!" She said with a wink.

Nikhil, looking both amused and bewildered, leaned back in his chair. "You two are-," he muttered, shaking his head in mock defeat. "Alright, let’s just enjoy breakfast before you guys turn this into a full-fledged soap opera."

Saanjh shot him a playful grin. "Don’t worry, we won’t. We’re just giving you a little... teaser."

---

Vidyut glanced up from his desk when Nikhil entered, a frown already forming between his brows. “You're in my office before lunch. That’s either a property problem emergency or your fiancée’s created one.”

Nikhil didn’t bother with formalities. He dropped into the chair across from his brother, hands steepled under his chin. “Do you remember a girl from college named Pallavi Gupta?”

Vidyut looked thoughtful for a moment, tilting his head. “Pallavi Gupta…” he murmured, like tasting the name. Then his eyes lit up. “The theatre girl? She was a star in the performing arts circuit. That Pallavi?”

Nikhil nodded. “Exactly that Pallavi. Turns out she’s Saanjh’s cousin.”

Vidyut blinked. “Wait—what?”

“Yeah,” Nikhil muttered. “Small world. She's in town. And—brace yourself—she has a major crush on you. Like, since college days.”

Vidyut’s brows rose in slow surprise. “She what?”

“She saw you doing some debate or something in your third year. You were in that black kurta and glasses phase,” Nikhil added with a grin. “Apparently you were her one and only senior crush. She never confessed, but she’s held onto it all these years. Now, thanks to your recent appearance in Saanjh’s life, she’s seen her chance to finally shoot her shot.”

There was a pause. Vidyut leaned back in his chair, processing this with a slow, impressed smile.

“I mean,” he said, “I always thought she was talented. She had this control on stage—charisma. But I had no idea she even knew I existed beyond faculty events.”

“She knew,” Nikhil said dryly. “And now she’s asked—well, more like demanded—that Saanjh bring her proposal to our house.”

Vidyut snorted. “A proposal? What is this, Ek Vivah Aisa Bhi part two?”

“She called Saanjh at 2 AM last night and threatened emotional blackmail.” Nikhil said, rubbing his temples. “She’s a riot. But serious.”

Vidyut gave a small laugh, clearly enjoying the drama. “Well, I’m not against getting to know her again. Especially not after that kind of dedication. I mean… I do remember thinking she had potential beyond the stage too.”

Nikhil groaned. “God, don’t say it like that.”

Vidyut grinned wickedly. “What? I’m just saying—it’s flattering. At least she has taste.”

“Insufferable,” Nikhil muttered, standing. “Anyway, just brace yourself. We’re all going to breakfast tomorrow again. Saanjh’s bringing her. You two can catch up or whatever. I’m going to stay out of it.”

As Nikhil left, Vidyut leaned back again, arms crossed and a new glint in his eye. "Pallavi Gupta... this should be interesting."

...

Next morning. A chic café in South Delhi, sunlight filtering through leafy canopies, the air thick with the aroma of espresso and expectations.

Saanjh sat at a corner table, nervously stirring her cold coffee, her eyes constantly darting between the entrance and Pallavi—who, in contrast, looked like she was ready for a Vogue cover shoot. Hair curled to perfection, peach-toned makeup, statement earrings, and a bright floral co-ord set that screamed “I’m the moment.” She was, undeniably, a walking blockbuster.

"Are you sure he knows I’m coming?" Pallavi whispered, eyes trained on the glass doors like a sniper waiting for her target. "He’s not the type to ghost brunch plans, is he? Or worse, the kind who forgets faces?"

"He remembers your theatre days. Don’t worry," Saanjh muttered. “But for the love of God, please don’t call him 'Vidzi'. He’s allergic to nicknames.”

Just then, the café’s glass doors slowly parted—and there he was.

Vidyut Chaturvedi. Charcoal grey shirt rolled at the sleeves, black watch strapped neatly to his wrist, crisp tailored pants. The man walked in like he was entering a courtroom where he owned every verdict. Slow, deliberate steps. No smile. Just that composed, powerful aura that turned heads without a word. Even the background jazz felt like it lowered itself in respect.

Pallavi froze mid-sip, her mango smoothie now a forgotten object of the past.

"Kanha Ji. Why is he still that good-looking? Did he bathe in black coffee and ambition every morning of his life?” she hissed under her breath.

Saanjh nearly spat her drink. “Focus. He’s walking this way.”

Vidyut approached the table, his gaze as unreadable as a closed case file. He nodded politely at Saanjh, then looked at Pallavi.

"Pallavi Gupta," he said, voice low, steady, like a man who never said more than necessary.

Pallavi stood—too fast—and knocked over her spoon. “Hi. Yes. That’s still me.”

Vidyut’s eyes flicked briefly to the mess, then back to her, with an arch of the brow that somehow both judged and forgave her in one motion.

“It’s been a while,” he said, sitting down like a man who’d rather be standing in a courtroom but was willing to humour brunch.

“It has,” Pallavi answered, voice brighter than necessary. “You still look like you walked out of a monochrome law magazine.”

He blinked slowly, then nodded once. “And you still sound like you walked out of a standing ovation.”

Saanjh’s mouth parted in shock. Did he just make a poetic compliment?

Pallavi froze for a beat, genuinely stunned. “…I’m not sure if that was sarcasm or the highest praise I’ve ever received.”

“Depends on how the rest of this breakfast goes,” Vidyut said calmly, finally turning to the menu.

Pallavi sat down slowly, visibly short-circuiting.

Saanjh, trying not to laugh, texted Nikhil under the table:
"Operation Matchmaker has officially begun. And your brother just flirted. I think."
...

As the waiter brought their orders and Pallavi launched into a story about her theatre days—animated hands, dramatic pauses, and all—Nikhil approached and gently leaned over to Saanjh and murmured, “zara walk pe chalte hain.”

(Let's go for a walk around.)

Before she could ask why, he was already up for that.

They slipped away quietly from the café, leaving behind mango lassi-laced glances and intense silences. The world outside was mellow—birds fluttered between tree branches, and the street bustled gently with morning activity. But the air between them was... still.

They walked side by side for a while, without words. Shoes crunching against gravel, breeze lifting a few strands of her hair. She occasionally glanced at him, sensing he was thinking deeply about something. Or maybe just overthinking. Typical Nikhil.

Then he finally spoke—softly, without looking at her.

“Tumhara koi boyfriend tha?”

(You had boyfriend?)

The question caught her off guard. She turned to him, blinking. “Umm… not a proper one, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean… online gaming ke through mili thi ek ladke se,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I must’ve been, what, 19-20? We used to play games, chat, flirt a little. But it fizzled out.”

Nikhil gave a quiet nod. “Mera bhi waisa hi kuch tha,” he said, voice unusually low. “Video game wali story.”

(I had kind of same thing) (Video game story)

She looked at him, a little surprised.

“Uski gharwalon ne shaadi karwa di uski,” he added after a pause. “Bas... khatam.”

(Her family got her married.) (Then... The End.)

“Pyaar tha?” she asked gently.

(Loves her?)

“Lagta to tha tab,” he shrugged. “Ab lagta hai... itna hi tha jitna chahiye tha. Aur tum?”

(It seemed like yes) (But now... It feels like that was normal. And Yours?)

Saanjh exhaled, watching a pigeon land near a bike. “Shayad mujhe zyada screen pe baatein achhi lagti thi, asli duniya mein expectations badh jaati hain. Jis se kisi ko kuch bhi fadak nhi padta”

(Maybe I liked talking on screen. In real life, the expectations rises higher, and nobody gives a damn about it.)

He smiled faintly, still not meeting her eyes. “Screen ke bahar ki duniya hi best hai. Jaise tum.”

(The world outside screen is the best. Like you.)

The breeze seemed to pause with her heartbeat.

She said nothing. Just walked a little closer to him, silently.

And that silence said more than their pasts ever could.
.....

The room was dark, lit only by the faint flicker of the streetlamp leaking through the curtains. Saanjh lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, the fan above slicing through the silence in slow motion. She turned over, checked her phone—2:46 AM. No new messages. No missed calls. No good reason to be awake. And yet, sleep refused to come.

Restless, she sat up, her feet touching the cold floor. Her eyes drifted to the corner of her room where her old gaming PC sat under a dust cover—silent, forgotten, like a relic from another life.

She hadn’t touched it in years.

Her father had smashed it once, in a moment of rage she didn’t like remembering. The screen had shattered, the CPU’s side panel bent inward like it had been punched. She had poured every saved rupee, every begged repair, every late-night sob, into bringing it back to life. But after that one final heartbreak—after she sent that message—she’d never touched it again.

Still, tonight… it pulled at her.

She dragged the chair closer and peeled off the cover. Dust rose like a ghost. Her fingers hovered above the power button before she pressed it. A familiar low hum filled the room, followed by the blinking blue light. Her heart skipped.

It was alive.

She logged in slowly, every click a memory. The keyboard still had the slight W key tilt from all those hours of movement. Her background still had her old guild logo, faded and pixelated. The old chat client blinked on the bottom corner. Her hands trembled as she clicked it open.

And there it was.
Her username: Friendofnone
The last conversation with: FlynnXD

She hadn’t dared to read it again in years. But tonight she did.

> FlynnXD: "You’re not replying again. What happened? Something serious?"

Friendofnone: "Mere papa ko humare baare mein pata chal gaya hai. Agle hafte meri shaadi hai. Mujhe bhool jao."
(My father got to know about us. Next week I'm getting married. Forget me.)

There was no reply from him after that. Just silence.

Her message sat there like an old scar—still raw under the surface. Her throat tightened reading her own words. She remembered how much it had hurt back then—lying to him, cutting it off like that. The guilt of pretending she was getting married just so he wouldn’t wait for her. The lie had been easier than explaining her father’s outburst. Easier than explaining the fear.

She scrolled up.

All the late-night jokes, shared screenshots, team victories, confessions about random things—his dream of being a game developer, her secret of not being as brave as she pretended to be.

He had never stopped asking if she was okay.

And she had vanished. Ghosted him like a stranger.

Now, years later, she had no idea who he really was. Where he was. If he still played. If he remembered “Friendofnone.”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Just one message. Just one "Hey, it's me."

But what would she say?

Instead, she closed the chat window. She couldn’t face that ghost tonight. Maybe not ever.

She shut the PC down and sat back in the chair, staring at her reflection in the blank screen.

And whispered to herself, “I really was a coward.”

But could that person be 'Nikhil' ?

.......

Nikhil sat in the dim light of his bedroom, his thoughts tangled in a web of memories he’d long buried. The room was quiet, save for the occasional hum of his air conditioner. He stared at the ceiling, but his mind was somewhere far away, far back—six years ago, to be precise.

He had once known her, though they had never met in person. She had been his world in those years, the girl who understood him in a way no one else did. The late-night gaming sessions, the shared laughs, the quiet conversations about life, about dreams, about the things no one else knew. Her username had been Friendofnone. He had always thought it was ironic, considering how much she had meant to him.

He had known that her life wasn’t easy—her strict father, the pressure of being the perfect daughter, always watching over her every move. And yet, they had connected, through pixels, through shared victories and losses. They had shared their real selves, even when it felt safer to hide behind a screen.

But one day, she had disappeared. Without a word. Without a goodbye.

He had convinced himself it was just another online flake, another fleeting connection, but deep down, he had known. He had known that something had happened, something beyond her control. Her last message had stung him.

He hadn’t ever truly moved on from her. In the back of his mind, he still wondered if she had married. If she had a family now, kids maybe. Did she remember him? Was he still a part of her story?

But as he thought about it, something clicked inside him. Saanjh. The woman in front of him now. The woman who had somehow found her way into his life, without him even realizing it.

He had been so wrapped up in his memories of Friendofnone, that he hadn’t even let himself see the person standing right in front of him. Saanjh wasn’t Friendofnone. She was real, right here, in his life. And in his guilt-ridden mind, he realized that thinking about his past online relationship felt like he was being unfair to her.

Saanjh is his present. She is genuine, straightforward, and kind. She got her own baggage, sure—she isn’t perfect—but she is here, and she is trying.

He sighed and rubbed his temples.

“What am I doing?” he thought. “I need to stop comparing her to the past.”

The weight of his buried emotions felt heavy now. He had kept it all inside for so long—his feelings for Friendofnone, the heartbreak, the confusion—but he couldn’t ignore it any longer. The way Saanjh made him feel now, the way she made him laugh, the way she genuinely cared... it was all different.

But he was still haunted by those unresolved feelings. He hadn’t truly allowed himself to let go of her. He hadn’t wanted to face the truth—he had never fully moved on from his past.

And now, he had to ask himself: Did he even want to move on from it?

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, briefly pausing at Saanjh’s name. He hadn’t messaged her since that afternoon. She had been quiet, distant. But was he doing the same to her? He wasn’t sure anymore.

He wanted to be with her, but there was this nagging part of him that kept holding onto the past. And he knew it wasn’t fair to either of them.

He took a deep breath, put the phone down, and got up from his bed. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would finally stop thinking about Friendofnone and face what was right in front of him. Maybe it was time to let go of the past for good.

But right now, all he could do was think about how much he had buried inside him for far too long.

©sivie