Ficool

Chapter 1 - The Crimson Light of the Last Evening:-

The last light of the afternoon slowly melted into the waters of the Ganges.The sky over Kolkata was painted in shades of crimson, and a soft winter breeze floated through the air. Arnav and Meghla sat quietly by the riverbank.

The first day Arnav saw Meghla was on an afternoon just like this.

She was standing on the college veranda, fixing her hair as the wind played with her scarf like drifting clouds. In that moment, Arnav had felt something strange—perhaps this girl would change the story of his life.

Their first conversation was simple. They had both reached for the same book in the library and accidentally bumped into each other.

"You take it first," Meghla had said with a smile.

"No, you," Arnav replied awkwardly.

From that polite distance of "you" to the warmth of something deeper, it didn't take long.

Meghla was different.

She loved watching the sky, loved getting drenched in the rain, and most of all, loved dreaming. Sometimes she would say,

"Arnav, if I ever get lost, look for me in the sky."

Arnav would laugh and reply,

"You're not going anywhere. I'm here."

But life's stories are not written by us. They are written by fate.

One day, Meghla suddenly asked him,

"Will you marry me?"

Arnav was startled.

"We haven't even finished college yet. Why are you talking like this?"

She smiled softly.

"Time doesn't wait for anyone."

Arnav didn't understand then why she spoke like that.

Soon, Meghla began to grow weaker. She stopped coming to classes regularly and avoided calls. One day, worried and restless, Arnav went to her house. Meghla's mother opened the door. Her eyes were red; her face pale.

"You're Arnav?" she asked.

When he nodded, she whispered,

"Meghla has blood cancer."

It felt as if the world had stopped spinning.

Meghla lay in a white hospital room. Most of her hair was gone. Her body looked fragile, but her eyes still carried the same brightness.

"You knew?" Arnav asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes," she replied calmly. "I've known for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would have broken down. I didn't want your dreams to stop because of me."

Holding her hand tightly, Arnav said,

"I don't want anything without you."

Meghla smiled faintly.

"Love isn't always about holding on. Sometimes it's about letting go."

The days passed quickly—chemotherapy, medicines, unbearable pain. Yet in the middle of it all, Meghla would ask Arnav to tell her stories.

One day she whispered,

"Take me to the river."

The doctors had advised against it, but Arnav arranged everything. He took her in a wheelchair to their old place by the Ganges.

The sky was painted with the colors of the fading sun. The river reflected the crimson glow.

"Do you remember?" Meghla asked softly. "You said I wouldn't go anywhere."

"Yes," Arnav replied, fighting back tears.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said gently. "Just a little farther."

The wind brushed against her face. She was terribly weak, yet there was a strange peace in her eyes.

"Arnav, promise me something."

"Anything."

"You'll become successful. You'll fulfill your dreams. Don't stop for me."

"I can't," he cried.

She slowly lifted her hand and touched his cheek.

"You can. Because you love me."

The sun was almost gone now. The sky shifted from red to deep violet.

Suddenly, Meghla grew quiet.

"Meghla?" Arnav called.

There was no reply.

Her head slowly leaned against his shoulder. A faint smile rested on her lips. Her eyes closed.

The wind seemed to pause. Even the river felt silent.

Arnav realized—Meghla had merged with the sky.

Not inside a hospital room. Not surrounded by white walls. She left at the place where their first dream had begun.

Years have passed.

Arnav is successful now. A good job, his own apartment, a car—he has everything he once dreamed of. But every evening, he returns to the riverbank.

In the crimson light of the fading sun, he whispers,

"I didn't stop. I kept my promise."

Sometimes, in the gentle wind, he feels her laughter.

Arnav knows now—love never truly dies. People may leave, but feelings remain, like the red glow of the setting sun that fades yet colors the sky long after it disappears.

And whenever the sun sets, he looks up at the sky and says,

"You didn't get lost, Meghla. You just became the sky."

Thanks for reading.....

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