Time didn't stop for Areeba.
And neither did life.
In the new school, surrounded by familiar faces of her cousins and a calmer environment, she slowly began rebuilding herself. This time, she didn't focus on friendships or emotional attachments. She focused on something that could never betray her — her own growth.
She studied harder than before.
Books became her comfort.
Silence became her strength.
Every morning she walked into school with a quiet determination to make something of herself. She listened carefully in class, completed her work sincerely, and gave her best in everything she did. Gradually, teachers began to notice her dedication.
They praised her discipline.
They admired her calm nature.
Some even called her one of the most sincere students in class.
For others, it was just appreciation.
For Areeba, it was healing.
She began to get used to her classmates. Conversations became easier, smiles more natural. She was kind to everyone, polite to all, and respectful in every interaction. People liked her presence. She never created conflict, never spoke harshly, never disrespected anyone.
Yet, one thing never changed.
She still didn't trust completely.
Behind her calm behavior lived a heart that was still wounded. She had learned to smile in front of people and cry only when alone. Nights were often heavier than days. When the world went quiet, her thoughts grew louder. Memories returned without warning, and tears followed silently.
She was healing…
but she wasn't healed.
Even after everything, one belief remained alive within her:
she still believed in true friendship.
Somewhere in her heart, she refused to accept that loyalty no longer existed. She believed there were still people who valued friendships deeply, who stayed genuine, who didn't change with circumstances. Whenever she thought about Anny, a strange warmth filled her heart.
It didn't matter that they no longer spoke regularly.
It didn't matter that years had passed.
To Areeba, their bond still held meaning.
Sometimes she wondered if Anny ever thought about her the same way. If those years together still lived somewhere in her memories too. The thought overwhelmed her at times, but it also comforted her. Some connections, she believed, didn't require daily conversations to exist.
They simply remained — quietly.
Over the two years she spent in that school, Areeba maintained the same balance. She stayed distant, yet kind. Friendly, yet careful. She laughed with others but never allowed anyone to reach the depth where they could hurt her again.
She shared stories of Anny with her cousin sister, speaking softly about that friendship that once felt like home. But there was one story she never told anyone.
The story of Isha.
Not even her cousins knew.
Not even her closest family members.
She buried that chapter deep within herself. The name alone brought discomfort. She avoided hearing it, avoided remembering the face, avoided revisiting those moments. Hatred was not in her nature, yet the pain attached to that name was something she couldn't ignore.
She didn't want revenge.
She just wanted distance.
Distance from memories.
Distance from that place.
Distance from the version of herself who had trusted blindly.
Many nights she cried alone, regretting how easily she had trusted, how silently she had suffered. But regrets cannot rewrite the past. They only remind you of the lessons you learned too late.
Time moved forward, as it always does.
Soon, the final year ended. Farewell arrived quietly, marking the end of another chapter. As students celebrated endings and new beginnings, Areeba stood among them with mixed emotions. She had survived those years. She had grown stronger. But she still carried unfinished feelings within her.
After farewell, a new decision was made.
For further studies, she would move back to Anny's hometown — the same place where a part of her heart still existed. Her parents agreed, especially since her elder sister was already there. The decision filled Areeba with a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.
She was happy.
Truly happy.
The thought of returning to that town, walking those familiar streets, breathing the air of a place that once felt like home — it all filled her with quiet joy. Somewhere deep inside, a small hope awakened: maybe she would see Anny again.
But along with excitement came uncertainty.
It had been three years.
Three long years without real conversation.
She didn't know if their friendship still held the same meaning for Anny. She didn't know what to say if they met again. Would it feel the same? Would it feel distant? Would they still recognize each other's hearts the way they once did?
Even Anny's phone number was no longer saved in her mother's phone.
The connection had faded completely.
Yet Areeba believed in something stronger than time —
the memories they shared.
She believed that genuine bonds don't disappear completely. They may grow quiet, but they never truly end. Holding onto that belief, she prepared herself for the journey ahead.
There was another reason for her excitement — she loved traveling. New places, new journeys, the movement from one chapter to another always filled her with a strange happiness. It felt like life was giving her another chance, another beginning.
As she packed her belongings and prepared to leave once again, her heart carried many emotions at once: excitement, nervousness, hope, and a quiet fear of the unknown.
She was ready to return.
Ready to face whatever waited for her there.
Ready to see whether some friendships truly survive time…
or exist only in memories.