Kavya's POV:
The day felt… normal.
Too normal, considering everything that had happened in the morning.
I walked down the street toward the café, my bag slipping slightly from my shoulder as my steps slowed on their own. The sky was beginning to dim, and the usual evening rush had started, but my mind was somewhere else.
Back at school. That scene. The accusation.
At that time, I was so sure. So confident that I was right.
But now… I don't know why, but something about it kept bothering me.
I let out a quiet sigh and pushed the thought away as the café came into view. The warm lights inside felt strangely comforting, like nothing had changed. Like everything was still in place.
Maybe I just needed to focus on work.
As soon as I stepped inside, the familiar smell of coffee surrounded me. I walked behind the counter, placed my bag beside it, and casually said, "I'm here"
"Kavya."
I looked up.
There was something different in their voice.
Serious.
"Do you know the one you accused this morning? For bullying?"
My fingers paused against the counter.
"…Yeah," I replied, slower this time.
There was a brief silence that made my chest feel oddly tight.
"He wasn't the one at fault."
For a second, I thought I heard it wrong.
"What do you mean?"
"We checked the CCTV footage," they said. "He was actually the victim."
My mind went blank.
Victim?
"That boy who's been causing trouble around here… the one who steals and messes with people," they continued, "he was the one behind it."
I stared at them, unable to respond.
No… that didn't make sense.
Or maybe it did—and I just didn't want it to.
"He left in a hurry this morning," they added, "so we couldn't apologise to him. From our side too."
My grip tightened slightly on the edge of the counter.
Apologize.
The word echoed in my head.
"And Kavya…. you should apologise as well."
I lowered my gaze.
A mistake.
Not just small—something worse.
I had judged him without thinking. Without even giving him a chance to explain.
"I…" my voice felt smaller than usual, "I didn't know."
"None of us did," they said. "But now we do."
Silence filled the space between us.
But this time, it wasn't quiet.
It was heavy.
I nodded slowly, more to myself than anyone else.
"Yeah," I whispered. "I'll apologise."
Because this wasn't something I could just ignore.
Not anymore.
I didn't realise how long I had been standing there… just staring at nothing.
My mind kept replaying everything. Every word. Every moment.
The way I had said it so confidently.
The way I hadn't even stopped to think.
A mistake.
A stupid one.
"Kavya?"
I blinked.
My aunt's voice pulled me back, and I turned slightly to look at her. She was watching me carefully, her expression softer than usual—like she had already figured everything out without me saying a word.
She walked closer and gently placed her hand on my shoulder.
"Oh, Kavya," she said quietly, "don't overthink it so much."
I looked down, unable to meet her eyes.
"It was just a mistake," she continued. "Whatever you did… You thought it was right at that moment."
Her voice wasn't scolding.
It wasn't judging.
And somehow, that made my chest feel even heavier.
"I know," she added softly, "he'll understand. Just… apologise sincerely."
I swallowed, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the counter.
Sincerely.
Those words stayed.
I nodded slowly.
"Yeah…" I murmured.
For a moment, I felt… lighter.
Not completely okay—but not as suffocating as before.
I picked up a cloth and moved toward the tables, forcing myself back into routine. Cleaning. Arranging. Delivering parcels. Taking orders.
The café grew busier as the evening went on, voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, cups clinking against saucers.
Everything moved fast.
But my mind didn't.
Even in the middle of all that noise… that one thought stayed.
Curled up somewhere deep.
Waiting.
I need to apologise.
On my way back home, I didn't go straight.
My steps slowed near a few small shops, and before I could overthink it, I walked in.
If I couldn't say things properly… maybe I could show them.
That felt easier.
Better.
I picked out a few small things—nothing too much, just simple stickers, a few colored sheets, and some little decorative pieces. Things that could help me say what I couldn't out loud.
When I reached the café earlier, Aunt had quietly handed me a small box.
"The best cookies we have," she had said with a gentle smile. "Give him these… from our side."
I had nodded.
So now, I had everything.
A small apology… and a piece of me in it.
By the time I reached home, it was already late.
The house was quiet. The kind of silence that makes your thoughts louder.
I sat down on the floor, spreading everything around me—papers, colours, stickers.
For a moment, I just stared at it all.
What am I even supposed to write?
I let out a slow breath and picked up a pen.
"I'm sorry."
I stopped.
It didn't feel enough.
Nothing felt enough.
Still… I kept going.
Carefully, slowly, I started making a small handmade letter. Folding the paper, adding colours, placing stickers here and there, trying to make it look… warmer. Softer.
Maybe if the words failed… this wouldn't.
Every line I wrote felt heavier than the last. My hand paused.
There was one more thing left to say.
The hardest part.
You don't have to forgive me.
I stared at the words for a long moment.
Because it was true.
What I did… didn't really deserve easy forgiveness; accusing someone isn't worth forgiving.
A small sigh escaped my lips as I leaned back slightly, looking at the letter in front of me.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was honest.
And maybe… that was all I could give.