Aarohi didn't leave Arin's arms for a long time.
Her fingers clung to his shirt like a frightened child, and Arin held her just as tightly — his jaw clenched, his heart racing, his protective instinct burning like fire.
But inside her mind?
The fire was cold.
Freezing.
Because the boy's whisper wouldn't stop echoing there—
"You left me behind."
Her breath trembled uncontrollably.
She didn't remember.
She didn't remember.
She didn't know who he was, or what he meant, or why that night was tied to him…
But her soul reacted.
Her bones reacted.
Her heart reacted.
As if a wound she couldn't see had been torn open again.
Arin pulled back slightly, brushing her hair away from her face. His fingers were gentle, but his eyes were full of fear.
"Aarohi…" His voice broke. "Please tell me what he said. Exactly."
Aarohi swallowed hard.
Her voice felt trapped in her throat.
Finally, it slipped out, barely audible:
"He said… I left him behind."
Arin froze.
Aarohi looked down, tears falling silently onto her trembling hands.
"I didn't know," she whispered shakily. "I didn't know he was there… I didn't know he was dying too…"
Arin's breath hitched. "Aarohi… how could you know? You can't blame yourself."
But she did.
Her heart blamed her.
Her mind blamed her.
Her soul blamed her.
Because somewhere, buried deep inside memories she didn't want to face…
she felt like it was true.
She felt like she had left someone in the dark —
forgotten someone —
escaped while someone else didn't.
She whispered with a trembling voice:
"Arin… what if I caused it? What if he died because of me?"
Arin grabbed her hands tightly.
"Aarohi, stop. Don't think like that. You don't even remember him."
But that was the worst part.
She remembered nothing…
yet felt everything.
Her body remembered fear.
Her heart remembered guilt.
Her soul remembered a presence in the darkness.
The boy wasn't a stranger.
That terrifying truth pressed against her chest like a weight:
She knew him…
but didn't remember knowing him.
Arin exhaled sharply and stood up.
"That's it. I'm telling Dad—"
"No!" Aarohi cried, grabbing his wrist.
Arin froze.
Her grip was weak but desperate.
"If you tell them… they'll think I'm losing my mind," she whispered. "They already worry so much… I can't put more fear on them."
"Aarohi—"
"Please," she whispered, dropping her gaze. "Just stay with me."
Arin's anger melted instantly.
He sat beside her again.
"Always," he murmured.
---
When night came again, Aarohi sat on her bed with her back against the headboard, blanket pulled to her chest, eyes wide open.
Arin sat on the floor beside her bed, leaning his head against the edge of the mattress.
"If you hear anything, wake me," he said softly.
She nodded.
But she knew she wouldn't sleep.
She couldn't.
Her eyes drifted to the window occasionally, terrified she'd see a silhouette standing there again.
At some point, Arin dozed off, his breathing slow and steady.
Aarohi watched him with a painful ache swelling in her chest.
He was the one good thing in this life.
The only person she could truly lean on.
She curled her fingers into the blanket and whispered softly to herself:
"Why is this happening to me again…?"
The room didn't answer.
The night didn't answer.
But her memories did.
Faintly.
Softly.
Like a whisper carried through time.
A flash —
the cold pavement under her hands
the taste of blood
the desperate need to breathe
someone else gasping beside her
a hand almost touching hers
a voice calling her name weakly…
"Aara…"
Aarohi gasped and clutched her head.
The pain hit like a shockwave.
Not physical.
Emotional.
A memory trying to surface.
A memory her mind wasn't ready for.
"No… stop…" she whispered through tears. "Please stop…"
But the images kept coming in fractured pieces.
A road.
Rain.
A cry.
A boy collapsing.
Aara falling beside him.
The world going dark.
The stars above them dimming.
The silence.
The cold.
The death.
Aarohi's tears flowed uncontrollably as she curled into herself.
It was too much.
Too fast.
Too raw.
She covered her ears as if blocking out her own past.
"Please… I'm not ready… I'm not ready to remember…"
Her voice cracked into a sob.
But the universe didn't care.
The past didn't care.
The boy didn't care.
Because the moment she closed her eyes—
she heard him again.
Not outside.
Not behind her.
Not in the shadows.
But inside the memory itself.
Close.
Hurting.
Breaking.
"Aara… don't leave me… please…"
Aarohi screamed.
Arin jolted awake immediately, jumping to his feet.
"Aarohi?! Aarohi, what happened?!"
He grabbed her, holding her tightly.
Her entire body trembled violently.
Her voice came out shattered—
"I remembered something…"
Arin froze.
"What?" he whispered, terrified.
Aarohi cried harder.
"He was there," she sobbed. "He died with me… and I… I left him…"
Arin held her as she shook, whispering "It's okay, it's okay," again and again.
But even his arms couldn't stop the truth from settling in her chest like a dagger—
She wasn't haunted by a stranger.
She was haunted by someone who died crying her name.
And she had forgotten him.
---