The summer in our small town was always unforgiving, but that year, it felt different. I still remember the day they moved into the flat next to ours. My mother, always the welcoming soul, came into my room and said, "Deepankar, take this bowl of sweets to the new neighbors. A gentleman named Promis has shifted here for work."
I didn't know then that walking those few steps to the next door would change my life forever.
When I rang the bell, the door opened, and time seemed to freeze. It wasn't Promis who stood there, but a girl about my age. She had eyes like a calm lake and a face that felt like a melody I had been waiting to hear. We didn't speak. I just handed her the bowl, my heart thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. She took it with a shy nod, and I practically ran back to my room. That was Ruhi. My first love.
A few days later, I saw her walking home from school. The sun was a blazing furnace, and the asphalt was radiating heat. Ruhi looked exhausted, her face flushed red from the sun. I gathered all my courage and caught up to her.
"Hey," I stammered, holding out an ice cream I had just bought. "It's really hot. Would you like some?"
Ruhi looked at me, her eyes widening in surprise. She was painfully shy. She looked at the ground and whispered, "No, thank you. I'm fine."
I felt a sting of rejection, but I didn't give up. I noticed her lips were parched. A few minutes later, I ran to a nearby shop, bought a bottle of ice-cold water, and approached her again from behind.
"At least take this water," I said firmly but gently. "The heat is dangerous today."
This time, she stopped. She looked at the condensation on the bottle and then at me. A small, breathtaking smile played on her lips as she took the bottle. "Thank you," she said softly. That smile was more refreshing than any cold water could ever be. At that moment, I knew I would do anything just to see that smile again.
Years passed like a beautiful dream. We grew up together, shifting from shared school corridors to the same college campus. Our friendship had blossomed into a love so deep that words often felt unnecessary. Everyone in college knew—Deepankar and Ruhi were inseparable.
But every light has a shadow. In our college, that shadow was Amit. He was a bully, someone who thought power came from fear. He had been eyeing Ruhi for a while, and one afternoon, while I was delayed in the lab, he cornered her near the library. He was being disgusting, using foul language and making gestures that made Ruhi tremble with fear.
When I arrived and saw tears streaming down Ruhi's face, something inside me snapped. I wasn't the shy boy with a water bottle anymore. I was a man protecting his world. I don't remember much of the fight, only the sound of my fists and Amit's pleas for mercy. I left him half-conscious on the floor.
Ruhi ran into my arms, sobbing. "Deepankar, stop... please," she cried. In that hug, she realized the intensity of my love—a love that could be both a soft breeze and a devastating storm.
But our happiness was short-lived. That night, as I was walking home, a group of shadows emerged from the darkness. Amit's friends. I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head, and then... darkness.
When I finally opened my eyes, the world was white and smelled of medicine. My mother was there, her face etched with worry. And then I saw her—Ruhi. She rushed to my side, her hand reaching for mine, her eyes filled with relief.
"Deepankar! Thank God you're awake!" she sobbed.
I pulled my hand away, my brow furrowed in confusion. I looked at her, this beautiful girl whose face felt strangely familiar yet completely unknown.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Who are you? Do I... do I know you?"
The silence that followed was the loudest sound I had ever heard. Ruhi's world shattered right in front of me, and for the first time in my life, I couldn't remember why my heart was breaking for a stranger.