That day hurts the most because I lost the love of my life as well as my best friend Mahi said. Why didn't you reach out 5 years ago and actually told me the truth I blamed you for everything!! Mahi started crying and in the midst of crying Nikhil hugged her comforting her and just patted her back. Mahi was protesting asked him that why didn't he told her about everything she blamed him for everything.. as the times passed by she was getting into her senses back and just told Nikhil that I noticed but I pretended to ignore it was my fault. I am sorry..
It is okay now you have moved on and as well as me so it's really okay I don't mind!! This words pierced into her heart but she's still nodded she haven't moved on she loved him everyday every second.
The day was full of unexpected scenarios they reach their office told, Priyan everything and Priyan told that in the next hearing Mahi will occupy him and will tell the court with proofs and with a witness that what exactly happened. But as she reached home the old memories surfaced especially the memory when they first met and how could she was actually jealous.
Five years ago.
Law College.
I still remember the heat that afternoon—the kind that sticks to your skin and makes everything feel dramatic for no reason at all. The courtyard was loud with freshers pretending not to be nervous, seniors pretending not to care, and dreams pretending they already knew where they were going.
I was late.
As usual.
I was running toward the lecture hall when I collided into someone—hard enough to send my files flying like confetti in a badly timed movie entrance.
"Great," I muttered, crouching down. "First day and I'm already embarrassing myself."
"Or making it memorable," a voice said.
I looked up.
And for one second, the world did that ridiculous slow-motion thing Bollywood loves.
He was kneeling too, holding my papers, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as if my messy notes were some important case file. White shirt, rolled sleeves, slightly crooked smile—annoyingly calm for someone I'd just crashed into.
"I'm Nikhil," he said, handing me my notebook. "You dropped your constitution before even studying it."
I laughed before I could stop myself.
That was it.
That was the moment.
We walked to class together, talking like we'd already known each other—about why law, about how intimidating the seniors looked, about how neither of us actually knew where Lecture Hall 3 was.
By lunch, everyone knew.
By evening, Khushi knew.
Khushi was already my friend back then. Loud, charming, always aware of who was watching. She looped her arm through mine the moment she saw Nikhil sitting beside me in the canteen.
"So," she said casually, eyes fixed on him, "who's this?"
"Nikhil," I said, smiling without thinking. "We met today."
"Of course you did," she replied, smiling too quickly. "He seems… impressive."
She laughed, but there was something sharp under it.
Over the next few weeks, Nikhil and I became inseparable—study sessions that turned into conversations, debates that ended in laughter, walks back to the hostel that stretched longer than necessary.
And every time—Khushi was there.
Sometimes beside me.
Sometimes between us.
"He's really confident," she'd say. "You don't feel intimidated?"
"He's smart," she'd say another day. "You'll have to work hard to keep up."
Once, when I was smiling at my phone because Nikhil had sent me a stupid meme five minutes after leaving—
She leaned in and said quietly, "Don't you think he's… too good for you?"
I laughed it off.
"Khushi," I said, "you're overthinking."
She smiled. "I'm just being honest. People like him don't stay long."
I told myself she was protecting me.
That best friends say uncomfortable truths.
I didn't notice how her eyes followed him when she thought I wasn't looking.
Or how her jokes always landed a little closer to doubt than concern.
When Nikhil finally asked me out—properly, awkwardly, under a tree near the library—I was glowing.
Khushi hugged me that evening.
"I'm happy for you," she said.
But her arms were stiff. Her voice rehearsed.
I didn't hear the warning bells then.
Back then, I thought love always announces itself loudly—
not knowing jealousy prefers to whisper.
And five years later, sitting in a parked car, I would finally understand:
That my first love was real.
But so was the quiet envy watching it.
I will fix whatever I have ruined. Mahi murmured.