Aarohi didn't go to school the next day.
She couldn't.
Her body wouldn't move.
Her mind wouldn't calm.
Her heart wouldn't settle.
She sat curled on her bed, hugging her knees tightly, staring at the faint initial carved on the fence in her memory—
R.
Just one letter.
But it felt like a blade.
Her head throbbed with questions she didn't know how to answer.
Who was Riaan?
Was he kind?
Was he cruel?
Was he a stranger?
Or someone who watched her from afar?
The thought made her stomach twist.
Her mother entered quietly and placed a tray of warm porridge next to her bed.
"You don't have to go today," she said softly. "Rest. We're here."
Aarohi nodded, eyes distant.
Her mother hesitated before sitting beside her. She brushed Aarohi's hair back gently.
"You look like you're carrying something too heavy for your age, sweetheart."
Aarohi swallowed hard.
If only she knew.
Her mother kissed her forehead, then left the room quietly.
Silence settled again.
Except her silence wasn't empty.
It was loud.
Loud with memories she didn't fully remember.
Loud with fear that grew in her chest day by day.
Loud with the name she whispered under her breath—
"Riaan…"
The name tasted bitter.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar.
But connected to her somehow.
She pressed her palms to her eyes as tears slipped out.
"This isn't fair…" she whispered shakily.
She had died.
She had suffered.
She had been broken.
Wasn't reincarnation supposed to erase her pain?
Wasn't this new life supposed to heal her?
Why did the past follow her?
Why did fear find her again?
Why couldn't she escape the people who hurt her before?
Her tears fell harder.
"Why didn't you leave me behind…" she whispered to the unseen boy, to the shadows, to the universe itself.
---
Arin knocked softly on her door.
He didn't enter until she said yes.
When he stepped inside, he closed the door gently behind him and sat beside her on the floor, back leaning against her bed.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Arin finally said, "I'm not going to school either."
Aarohi's head snapped up. "W–What? Why?"
Arin shrugged. "If you're not okay, I'm not leaving you alone."
Her throat tightened painfully.
In her first life…
no one ever stayed with her when she cried.
No one ever missed school for her.
No one ever sat beside her like this.
She whispered, "Arin… I don't want to ruin your life."
He looked at her sharply.
"Shut up."
Aarohi's eyes widened.
"You're my sister," he said, voice soft but full of emotion. "Your life is part of mine. You're not a burden. You're not ruining anything. I choose to be here."
A tear fell down Aarohi's cheek.
Arin reached out and wiped it away gently.
"Now tell me everything again. Slowly."
Aarohi took a shaky breath.
She repeated everything —
the boy,
the fence,
the carved R,
the name Riaan echoing in her mind,
the fear that clawed at her chest.
Arin listened without interrupting, jaw tightening with every word.
When she finished, her voice cracked. "I feel like… like he knew me. Like I knew him. But I don't remember anything clearly."
Arin lowered his gaze.
He whispered, "Do you want to remember?"
Aarohi froze.
Did she?
Remembering meant reopening wounds she wasn't ready for.
Remembering meant facing a boy who watched her die.
Remembering meant uncovering a past life she wasn't strong enough to relive.
But…
Not remembering meant living in fear.
Not remembering meant never understanding why he followed her.
Not remembering meant always staying a step behind the truth.
Aarohi whispered, trembling, "I don't know…"
Arin placed a hand on hers gently.
"Then we'll remember together."
Her breath caught.
He continued, "We'll figure out who he was. Why he died. Why he followed you. Everything."
Aarohi shook her head quickly. "No… no, Arin, this is dangerous—"
"I don't care," he said firmly. "You're not facing this alone."
Her chest tightened.
Her eyes blurred.
Her lips trembled.
No one had ever said those words to her in her first life.
Ever.
Aarohi's voice shook. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
Arin squeezed her hand.
"I'd rather be hurt with you… than safe without you."
Aarohi broke.
Her tears spilled freely as she leaned into Arin's shoulder, letting herself cry silently.
Arin wrapped an arm around her.
For a moment — just a moment — she felt like the world wasn't falling apart.
---
Later, as Aarohi tried to rest, she heard something.
A soft tapping.
At her window.
Her heart stopped.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Her breath froze in her throat.
She forced herself to stand, each step heavy with dread.
When she reached the window…
A shadow moved outside.
Her blood ran cold.
She pulled the curtain aside slowly…
And found—
A small folded paper pressed against the glass.
Her hands trembled violently as she opened the window just enough to pull it inside.
She unfolded it.
One line.
One sentence.
One truth that shattered the ground beneath her feet.
"I remember more than you think, Aara."
Aarohi's fingers tightened around the paper.
Her legs weakened.
Her vision blurred.
Arin, hearing her faint gasp from the hallway, rushed into the room.
"Aarohi?!"
She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
"Arin… he knows everything…"
Her voice broke into a whisper:
"He remembers me."
---