Shant couldn't sleep.
He'd been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows shift as cars passed outside. The city never really went quiet, even this late. There was always some distant hum, some reminder that the world kept moving whether you were ready or not.
His mind wouldn't stop.
The collision. Her voice. The way his whole body had reacted before his brain caught up.
"Sorry!"
That one word, spoken so quickly, so casually, and it had turned his entire world upside down.
And the name.
Aradhya.
He'd grabbed a stranger's hand and said that name like he'd been saying it his whole life. Like it belonged to him. Like she belonged to him.
But who was she?
He rolled onto his side, punching the pillow, trying to find a position that didn't feel wrong. His thoughts spiraled.
The fortune teller's words kept circling back.
The past is yet to come. The future has already passed.
What the hell did that mean? Were the dreams memories? Visions? Was he losing his mind?
He thought about the flowers. White roses and yellow marigolds. The way his mother's face had softened when he gave them to her. The way she'd hugged him like he'd given her something precious.
But they weren't for her. Not really.
They were for someone else. Someone he couldn't even find.
Shant squeezed his eyes shut, willing his brain to stop. Just stop. Just for a few hours.
He needed to sleep.
He needed to not think.
He turned onto his back again. Stared at the ceiling.
The clock on his desk read 2:47 AM.
His body felt heavy. His mind felt wired.
Just sleep. Just sleep. Just...
Slowly, finally, his thoughts started to blur. The edges softened. His breathing slowed.
And he fell.
The dream started differently this time.
No haze. No fog.
Everything was sharp. Clear. Real.
He was walking through the city. Familiar streets. The late afternoon sun casting long shadows. The air warm but not heavy.
And she was beside him.
Aradhya.
He couldn't see her face yet. It was still blurred at the edges, like his mind couldn't quite hold onto the details. But her presence was there. Solid. Real.
They were walking in comfortable silence. No words needed. Just the rhythm of their steps matching, the city moving around them.
They turned a corner, and the flower shop came into view.
Shant's chest tightened.
This place. He'd been here before. In another dream. In real life.
The old man was arranging flowers in buckets out front. Roses, marigolds, lilies.
Aradhya stopped.
She looked at the flowers for a long moment, then pointed.
"Those," she said quietly.
White lilies.
Shant frowned. "Why those?"
She didn't answer right away. Just reached out and touched one of the petals, her fingers gentle.
"They're honest flowers," she said. "They don't pretend to be something they're not. They say goodbye and mean it."
Shant's stomach twisted.
"Goodbye?"
She smiled. Small. Sad.
"Let's take them."
He paid. The old man wrapped the lilies in brown paper, and Aradhya took them, cradling the bouquet in her arms like something fragile.
They started walking again.
Shant wanted to ask. Wanted to understand. But the words stuck in his throat.
They walked through the streets, past chai stalls and bookshops and the noise of evening traffic. And then the city opened up, and they were standing at the edge of the botanical garden.
Green everywhere. Trees and flowers and winding paths. The kind of place that felt separate from the chaos outside.
Aradhya walked ahead, and Shant followed.
They walked deeper into the garden, past beds of roses and jasmine, until they reached a quiet corner. A bench under a sprawling tree. Flowers blooming all around.
She stopped.
Turned to face him.
And for the first time, her face came into focus.
Shant's breath caught.
She was beautiful.
Remarkably, impossibly beautiful.
Long dark hair falling over her shoulders. Brown eyes that caught the light, warm and deep and sad. Her face soft, delicate, but strong too. And her eyes were glimmering. Not crying. But on the edge. Tears that wouldn't fall.
She was smiling.
A small, brave smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Shant," she said softly. "You remember this place?"
He looked around. The bench. The tree. The flowers.
Something tugged at him. A memory just out of reach.
"This is where we met," she said. "Where everything started."
She sat down on the bench, setting the white lilies beside her. Shant sat too, his heart pounding.
"And this is where everything will end too," she said.
The words hung in the air.
Shant stared at her. "What are you talking about?"
She looked down at the lilies, her fingers tracing the edge of a petal.
"I can't do this anymore," she said quietly.
"Do what?"
"This." She gestured between them. "Us."
Shant's chest tightened. "Aradhya..."
"You're not here, Shant," she said, and her voice was so gentle it hurt. "Even when you're sitting next to me, you're somewhere else. In your head. In your family's problems. In your fear. And I've waited. I've tried to understand. But I can't keep being the one who stays when you keep leaving."
"I'm not leaving," he said, and his voice cracked. "I'm right here."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "You're not. You haven't been for a long time."
She stood up, picking up the white lilies.
"You'll be fine without me," she said, and she was still smiling. That sad, brave smile. "You'll figure yourself out. You'll be okay."
"I don't want to be okay without you," Shant said, his throat tight.
She looked at him, and her eyes were glistening now, the tears threatening to spill but refusing to fall.
"I know," she whispered. "But you have to be."
She took a step back.
And then another.
"Shant," she said softly. "This is goodbye."
"Aradhya, wait..."
But she was already turning. Already walking away.
"Aradhya!" he shouted.
She stopped.
Turned back.
Just a glance. Her face fully clear now. Every detail. The curve of her jaw. The sadness in her eyes. The single tear that finally, finally fell.
And then she turned away again.
And kept walking.
Shant tried to move. Tried to run after her. But his legs wouldn't work. His body was frozen.
She disappeared into the trees.
The world tilted.
Colors bled into black.
And Shant fell.
He sat up gasping.
"Aradhya!"
The word tore out of him, raw and desperate.
His face was wet.
He touched his cheek, his hand coming away damp. Tears. Real tears.
He was crying.
His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The dream was gone, but the feeling wasn't. The weight of it sat heavy in his ribs, crushing.
She left. She left. She left.
He didn't realize he'd been sobbing out loud until he heard the knock.
"Shant?"
His mother's voice, muffled and worried.
The door opened, and she stepped in, her face tight with concern. His father appeared behind her, silent, his expression unreadable.
His mother crossed the room quickly, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"You were crying," she said softly, her hand reaching for his face.
Shant wiped at his eyes, his throat too tight to speak.
"A bad dream?" she asked.
He nodded.
She pulled him into a hug, and Shant let her. Let himself be held. Let the tears keep falling.
His father stood in the doorway, watching. He didn't say anything. Just stood there, arms crossed, his jaw tight. For a moment, Shant thought he saw something shift in his father's expression. Concern, maybe, or discomfort. But it was gone before he could be sure.
After a long moment, his mother pulled back, brushing the hair from Shant's forehead.
"It's okay," she whispered. "It was just a dream."
But it wasn't.
It wasn't just a dream.
It was real. It had been real. Or it was going to be real.
Shant didn't know anymore.
His mother stood, glancing at his father. "Come on. Let him rest."
His father nodded once, then turned and walked back down the hall.
His mother lingered at the door, her eyes soft and sad.
"Try to sleep," she said.
Then she closed the door, and Shant was alone again.
He looked at the clock.
5:03 AM.
The room was still dark, but the sky outside was starting to shift. The faintest hint of light creeping in.
Shant sat there, staring at nothing, his chest still aching.
Her face. Clear. Finally clear.
Brown eyes. Long hair. That sad, brave smile.
"Shant, this is goodbye."
He could still hear her voice.
He wanted to write. Wanted to get it all down before it faded like the other dreams. The way her face had looked. The exact words she'd said. The feeling of being frozen while she walked away.
But his hands wouldn't move. His body felt too heavy. The grief sat in his chest like a stone.
He wiped his face with the heel of his hand, his breath shaky.
And he whispered into the quiet.
"Aradhya."