"Uhaa… It hurtssss!! Waaaa…!"
A little kid was crying his heart out, screaming as he fell to the ground while chasing after me.
He had a small, fragile body and pale skin. His clothes always looked a little too big for him, as if he hadn't grown into them yet. His hair was messy, and his eyes were filled with tears, red and swollen from crying.
"…Sigh. You really can't be helped," I said, turning back and walking toward him.
He sat there on the ground, knees scraped, hands trembling.
"Can you stand up?" I said, kneeling in front of him.
"Oh my gosh, you scraped yourself. Why are you tripping when there's nothing around, stupid?"
I stretched my hand toward him.
"Because… uhuu… because… uhuu…"
He couldn't even finish his sentence, still sobbing.
"Come on, let's go wash it off over there. It's fine, don't worry," I said gently.
"Don't cry—"
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
My alarm rang loudly.
I opened my eyes.
I was in my room.
The ceiling fan spun slowly above me, making a soft clicking sound. Morning light slipped through the curtains, falling across my bed and the small study table beside it. Books were stacked carelessly, notebooks half-open, pens scattered around like I had fallen asleep while studying. My phone buzzed nonstop near my pillow.
"…Was that a dream?" I mumbled.
Or was it just my past memories of Kunal…?
My head felt heavy.
My chest felt strange—tight, yet hollow.
I couldn't tell whether my heart was calm or restless.
"Tanvi, my sweetheart, are you up?"
Dad opened the door slightly and peeked into my room.
"Yeah, Dad. I'm up," I said, wiping my face with my hands.
"Sis!! Dad!!
Come down for breakfast!"
My younger brother, Hritik, shouted lazily from the hall.
"Coming, coming," I replied.
As I stepped out of my room, Dad suddenly asked—
"Sweetheart… do you remember Kunal?
Kunal Suryavanshi!"
"Oh… Kunal?"
"Yeah, I remember him," I said, pretending to think for a moment.
"I don't forget someone with that kind of personality."
Dad smiled knowingly.
"Yeah right. You were head over heels for him for that personality."
"Dad!" I said, my face heating up in embarrassment.
"I arranged tickets for a charity event," he continued.
"He's participating and doing a piano performance for the opening.
His dad and I are meeting there. Do you want to come?"
"…Yeah, sure," I said.
A memory surfaced instantly.
"Uwaaa… My fingers is like… ouch…"
Kunal sat beside me back then, crying softly, trying to move his fingers but stopping halfway because of the pain. He kept them stiff, like they had no strength left in them.
"I heard you started going to piano classes," I had said.
"I should've figured this would be the result."
"It's so difficult…" he cried.
"I can't playyy…"
I wanted him to play the Pokémon theme.
But at this rate…
he was never going to be able to do that.
---
I was seated in the front row, right next to the stage.
The opening ceremony was Kunal's piano performance.
The piano was already placed under the bright stage lights, silent and waiting. Then Kunal walked in.
He moved with a confidence that instantly made him stand out. He was wearing a black suit, simple but elegant, and his hair was styled neatly in a formal way. For a moment, it felt strange seeing him like this—so different from the clumsy boy I remembered.
He sat down in front of the piano.
And started to play.
"It's so beautiful…"
"It feels like my heart is being cleansed," a guy behind me whispered.
I couldn't help but let out a small sigh.
"Apparently he also won an award the other day," a girl said softly.
"Right? He's good at everything he does," another girl added.
"That's why they call him the Jack of All Trades. A.K.A. the Director."
"…Director?"
"Jack of all trades…?" I muttered.
No way…
I watched his fingers move smoothly across the keys. I didn't know anything about music, so I couldn't really judge it properly—but even I could tell.
He was really good.
Then, for a brief moment, his eyes shifted.
He glanced at me.
And then looked again.
"Huh? Wait… what?" a guy behind me spoke.
"The song…" another voice said.
"It changed."
"Wait—this song!"
"It's the opening theme of Pokémon!" a girl exclaimed.
"No, it's not!" another girl argued.
"Why is he—" I whispered in shock.
No… I know this.
This is definitely the brave and courageous music that leads heroes into the world of Pokémon—to become Pokémon Masters.
I stayed completely stunned.
I couldn't move.
After the performance ended, the applause filled the hall. Kunal stood up, bowed politely, and walked off the stage.
A moment later, he came down and sat in the audience.
Right next to me.
Dad!!
I screamed his name in my head at full volume.
My dad never told me he would be sitting beside me after the performance.
"Hey," Kunal said casually as he sat down.
"It's you, right? Salina's friend. The model."
"…What?" I turned toward him, annoyed.
"Ummm… you're not?" he asked, confused.
"No, no. That's me," I replied.
So that's how he remembers me…
As Salina's friend.
Yeah. That's normal.
Safe. Definitely safe.
My heart would've jumped out of my mouth if he remembered me out of nowhere.
"You forgot my name, right?" I asked.
I was about to tell him—
"Tannu."
I froze.
"Yeah, right!" I blurted out quickly.
"You're insane! I didn't know you were this good at piano, Kunal!
Did you really play the Pokémon theme on stage?!"
I hurriedly changed the topic.
He only ever called me Tannu when we were kids…
Even back in junior college.
"C-come on," he said, flustered.
"You must be stupid to think I'd play Pokémon at an opening ceremony."
"That's not what I meant," he continued.
"My fingers just… kind of started moving."
"No, no," I said softly.
"I heard something really nice. Hearing you play it in person… wow."
"I don't know why you played that, but—"
"That's a great question," he replied, staring at his fingers.
"I wish I knew."
How cute…
He really hasn't changed in that way.
"Anyways," he said, looking at me.
"What's your plan after this?"
"Nothing special," I replied.
"Then… wanna join me for lunch?"
"I usually eat with Kay, but he's not here today. And if I eat alone, I'll just keep thinking about the piano opening mess again and again."
"So please?"
"…Yeah, why not, Mr. Director?" I teased.
"Oh, come on," he groaned.
"Just give me a break from that nickname."
---
"Uhaa… it hurtssss!! Waaaa…!"
I was crying my heart out, screaming as I fell flat on the ground.
"…Sigh. You really can't be helped."
A girl walked toward me.
Her face was strange—like a white, empty canvas. I couldn't see her features clearly, no matter how hard I tried.
"Can you stand up?" she said. "Oh my gosh, you scraped yourself. Why are you tripping where there's nothing around, stupid?"
She stretched her hand toward me.
"Because… uhuu… because… uhuu…" I kept sobbing, my voice breaking from pain.
"Come on, let's go wash it off over there," she said gently. "It's fine, don't worry. Don't cry—"
I opened my eyes.
A faint smile formed on my face.
Sometimes, dreams are like this.
"Uwaaa… my fingers is like ouch…" I was crying again, trying to move my fingers, but keeping them stiff because they hurt too much—like they had no strength left in them.
"I heard you started going to piano classes," she said back then. "I should've known this would be the result."
"It's so difficult… I can't playyy…"
"I was going to have you play the Pokémon theme," she said. "I guess at this rate… you're never going to be able to do that for me…"
And that's where every dream ends.
Whenever I try to sleep again—
Whenever I try to continue that dream—
Whenever I try to imagine it further—
I can't.
I never reach the end.
I can't call that girl by her name.
I can't see her face clearly.
I always have these dreams.
Dreams of a girl who is always by my side.
She helps me whenever I trip over nothing.
She takes care of me, no matter how useless I am.
But I don't remember her name.
I don't remember her face.
That's why my music changed during the opening ceremony.
I saw an illusion of her sitting in the audience.
Just like always, her face was still a white, empty canvas.
But I knew.
When I started playing the Pokémon theme—
She was smiling.
She was happy.
Because that music…
It's her favorite.
---
We headed toward the rooftop of the building for lunch.
I had my lunch packed in my backpack. I asked Tanvi if she'd join me, and after a short pause, she agreed.
The rooftop was quiet and open.
From there, the whole campus looked small. Buildings stretched out below us, students moving around like tiny dots. The sky was wide and clear, clouds drifting lazily. A few potted plants were placed near the edges, and the metal railing felt warm from the sunlight.
It felt… peaceful.
We sat down on the rooftop floor, facing each other.
A cool breeze passed by, brushing against our faces, making the atmosphere breezy and cozy—perfect for lunch.
"…What are we doing here?" Tanvi asked, sitting across from me, clearly confused.
"Eating lunch, of course," I said, taking my lunchbox out of my bag.
"…What? Here?" she asked, blinking.
"Then where?" I shrugged. "A café? A restaurant?" "I can't afford that."
I scratched my head awkwardly.
"I'm rich, but that's my dad's money," I said honestly. "From my pocket money, I can only afford to treat you at a café once."
"And… I already used all of it last time, when we went together."
"So I cooked lunch by myself at home and brought it," I added. "Hahaha…"
I laughed, embarrassed.
Tanvi didn't say anything.
She just looked at the lunchbox quietly—
And for some reason, it felt like she was looking forward to it.
---
I watched as Kunal opened the lunchbox.
Warm steam slowly rose into the air.
The aroma reached me before I even leaned closer—chicken curry, rich but not heavy, mixed with the gentle sweetness of onions. It smelled comforting, familiar… almost like something from my childhood. The curry had a deep golden color, the surface glistening softly, with pieces of chicken coated evenly in the gravy. Thin slices of onion were mixed throughout, not overpowering, just right.
Without realizing it, I leaned forward.
"Oh… this is really good," I said after taking my first bite. "I'm really amazed at how incredibly good this is."
"Great," he said, sounding relieved. "Please eat as much as you like."
I took another bite, slower this time.
"The chicken curry flavor isn't too strong," I said quietly. "And the onion seasoning is really good… it's really delicious."
Then the words slipped toward my lips before I could stop them.
"But Kunal, didn't you really remember anythi—"
"Huh…?" he looked at me.
I froze.
"…Never mind," I said quickly. "It's nothing."
I focused back on the food, but my heart felt heavier than before.
This taste…
It pulled me back to sixth grade.
I remembered that day clearly.
Our teacher had asked everyone about their favorite food.
"I like chicken curry with onion seasoning," I had said without hesitation. "It's my favorite."
After class, Kunal had walked up to me.
"Tannu, do you really like chicken curry that much?" he asked.
"Yeah!" I had said happily. "Chicken curry with onion seasoning is going to be my favorite!" "I'm going to love it even after I grow up!"
"Okay then," he had said seriously. "I'll make it for you tomorrow."
And that was the day he almost burned down his kitchen.
I still remembered the smoke, the chaos, and his panicked face. If his mom hadn't been watching, something terrible might have happened.
And yet…
Here we were.
Years later.
On a quiet rooftop.
Eating the same dish.
Made by the same boy.
I kept eating, smiling softly.
But inside, a question kept echoing—
Does he really remember nothing?
Or does he remember more than he's willing to say?
---
"…nu, do you really like chicken curry that much?"
I asked her softly.
I still couldn't see her face clearly.
It was blurred, like always—just an outline, a presence. Yet somehow, I knew it was her.
"Yeah!" she said without hesitation.
"Chicken curry with onion seasoning is going to be my favourite!"
"I'm going to love it even after I grow up!"
Her voice sounded bright. Certain. Like she already knew her future.
"Okay then," I said quietly.
"I'll make that for you tomorrow…"
And then—
I opened my eyes.
The dream slipped away, like it always did.
"…That dream again," I whispered.
It felt so real. Too real.
I'd been having dreams like this for years now. Dreams of a girl whose face I could never remember, whose name I could never say out loud.
But ever since I met Tanvi again…
These dreams came more often.
Like flooded memories forcing their way back into my mind.
Scenes. Voices. Feelings.
Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't reach the end of the dream. I couldn't see her face. I couldn't call her name.
All I could do was wake up with my chest feeling strangely full—and painfully empty at the same time.
"I wish…" I murmured.
I wish I could meet that girl from my dreams.
Not in my sleep.
But in reality.
---
"So you're going to participate in the college sports festival too," I said, glancing at Kunal.
Before I even realized it, hanging out with him had become an everyday thing.
Life really does move forward without asking for permission.
"Um… yeah," he replied. "I'm the captain of the cricket team. Wicket keeper too."
We were walking down from the mountain temple, following the narrow path toward the river.
The sun was slowly setting.
The sky was painted in golden red, stretching endlessly above us like a quiet blessing.
Birds flew back toward their nests, their silhouettes cutting through the sky.
Streetlights blinked on one by one.
It felt calm.
Almost too calm.
"You used to not even be able to catch a single ball when we played cricket back then," I said softly, almost to myself.
"Tanvi…?" he asked. "Did you say something?"
"Oh—sorry," I said quickly. "I was just talking to myself."
I looked at him again.
"You're really working hard," I said. "That's great. But… hey, Kunal—why are you working so hard?"
"Huh…?"
"Studying, sports, everything. You do it all," I continued. "You must've worked really hard, right?"
He stopped walking for a moment.
"…That's really nice to hear," he said. "I think you're probably the first person who's said something like that."
He smiled faintly.
"You're right, though," he continued. "I used to not be able to do anything when I was younger. I was just a huge crybaby."
"Kunal, that's not—"
"It's true," he interrupted gently. "I'm not some kind of genius, so I had to try. And try. And try again." "Don't laugh at me, okay?"
I shook my head, but he kept going.
"I've been seeing a strange dream ever since I was fifteen or sixteen."
"…A dream?" I asked.
"In my dreams, I keep crying," he said. "I fall over and cry and never stop. I'm clumsy. Useless."
My heart tightened.
"But there's a girl who always shows up," he continued. "She saves me."
"Huh…?"
"I don't know her name," Kunal said quietly. "But that girl is really kind."
"Ku…nal…" I whispered without realizing.
He closed his eyes and spoke again.
"She's blunt. She has a bit of a potty mouth," he said with a small smile. "But at the end of the day, she always helps me." "She pulls me out whenever I get myself into trouble."
Then he opened his eyes and looked at me.
"That's why I wanted to become someone good enough for her," he said. "I worked hard and tried my hand at everything."
He took a breath.
"I know it's weird to fall for a girl in your dreams, right?" "So I never told anyone."
He hesitated, then—
"But… the girl in my dreams," he said. "She kind of looks a little like you."
He turned away and started walking toward the main road.
I stood there.
Silent.
My chest hurt.
I thought he hated me back then.
I thought he'd forgotten me.
Am I allowed to tell him?
Am I allowed to say it out loud?
I watched his back as he walked ahead.
My chest felt tight.
Am I allowed to tell him?
What if I say it and lose everything?
The river flowed quietly beside us, carrying my thoughts away.
I loved him.
I always had.
And maybe…
He loved the girl I used to be.
I… I…
The words were right there.
Pressing against my lips.
Burning my chest.
But then—
Kunal lifted his hand and scratched his eyebrow.
And I froze.
Just above his brow, barely visible under the fading light, was the scar.
My breath hitched.
I remembered that day.
White walls.
The smell of antiseptic.
The sound of machines beeping steadily.
He lay on the hospital bed.
His left eye was covered in bandages.
His head wrapped tightly.
Dried blood stained the collar of his shirt.
"…You?" he had said weakly.
I stood there.
Unable to move.
"Who are you?" he asked again.
His eye—
once bright, once full of life—
looked empty.
As if something precious had been taken away.
"Huh…?"
My chest had felt like it was collapsing.
"T-Tanvi?"
"Kunal?"
His voice pulled me back to the present.
I blinked rapidly.
The riverbank came back into focus.
The sunset.
Birds flying home.
Leaves rustling softly in the wind.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Concern crept into his voice.
"N-No… it's nothing," I said too quickly.
"I'm just… a little cold."
I looked down at my feet.
If I met his eyes,
everything I was holding back would spill out.
Without a word, Kunal shrugged off his jacket
and gently placed it over my shoulders.
The warmth settled around me.
And with it—
Guilt.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
"Let's go home," I said softly.
He nodded, smiling like nothing was wrong.
But inside, my thoughts were screaming.
I can't tell him.
What if he becomes like that again?
What if remembering breaks him?
What if I'm the reason
he falls apart… again?
I tightened my grip on the jacket.
It smelled faintly of detergent.
And something familiar.
Comforting.
Painful.
Kunal walked beside me,
hands in his pockets,
humming quietly to himself.
Unaware.
Completely unaware
that he once lay in a hospital bed—
bleeding, broken—
and that I had stood there, powerless,
watching him forget me.
I told myself I was protecting him.
But deep down, I wondered—
Was I protecting him…
Or was I just afraid
to be remembered?
---