He had come back to Indore for his best friend’s farewell before the friend left for the U.S.
This time, everything felt different.
Between his birthday and this day, he had already told his sister and his best friend about me and they were happy for him.
For the first time, I wasn’t a secret they didn’t know; I was someone they quietly smiled about.
When I picked him up from his sister’s place, the city felt familiar, like it remembered us.
At the Airbnb, I handed him the camera I’d bought.
He’d been dreaming about starting vlogs, and I wanted him to have something that could catch the world the way he sees it bright, full of color, full of life.
He laughed, that same shy laugh, and said I always remembered everything he said in passing.
He came with his own surprises: a small panda, a frog toy, a handwritten two-sided letter, even a few pictures from his childhood.
Those gifts felt like pieces of his heart folded into paper and cloth.
I bought him a tshirt from H&M he said he wanted to dress up, and he looked perfect.
The first night it rained, so instead of their usual night out, everyone came to our place.
His sister, her boyfriend, his best friend we had a full house.
Music, laughter, the smell of food, and him moving around the room with that glow that never fades.
For a few hours it didn’t matter what names we used; it just felt right.
The next day we all went out for dinner.
It was hard, pretending again to be only his best friend’s brother, sitting across from him and not being able to hold his hand.
But even then, just being near him was enough.
The following night we went exploring haunted places, long drives, ridiculous stories.
We got scared, we laughed until our stomachs hurt.
The last day we drove out of the city, just to be alone for a while before the inevitable goodbye.
That final hug before I left still sits heavy in my chest.
He cried, and so did I.
But underneath the ache was this quiet certainty: we would meet again, and until then, we’d keep each other alive in every message and call.
Those days were full of night-outs, cafés, inside jokes, and love that kept growing quietly between us.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was real and that’s what made it beautiful.
💭 “Sometimes love isn’t about holding on—it’s about promising you’ll always return.”
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