Aarohi didn't open her eyes for a long time.
She stayed buried in Arin's arms, her body shaking, her breath uneven, her mind spiraling.
Her heartbeat was too loud.
Her ears were ringing.
Her throat hurt from crying.
Arin kept whispering her name, again and again, as if pulling her back to reality.
"Aarohi… it's okay… you're safe… you're safe…"
But she wasn't.
Not inside.
Not in her mind.
Not in the part of her soul that still lived in that cold, dark night.
When she finally loosened her chokehold on Arin's shirt, she pulled back, wiping her trembling hands across her face.
Arin's eyes were red with worry.
"What did you see?" he whispered.
Aarohi swallowed hard, throat burning.
"A road…" she said slowly. "Rain… cold… darkness… and… and someone lying beside me."
Arin's breath hitched. "The boy?"
Aarohi nodded.
"I think so… I couldn't see his face. But I heard him say my name. My old name."
She closed her eyes and whispered:
"'Aara… don't leave me… please…'"
Arin clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Aarohi… listen to me."
His voice was sharp and soft at the same time.
"You didn't leave him. You didn't know anything. You were dying too."
Aarohi's gaze dropped to her trembling hands.
"But he remembers…" she whispered. "He remembers everything."
Arin shook his head fiercely. "Whatever happened that night, it wasn't your fault."
Her voice cracked like breaking glass:
"Then why does he sound so… hurt?"
Arin froze.
He had no answer.
---
The next morning, Aarohi didn't speak much.
She sat at the dining table, staring at her untouched breakfast.
Her mother touched her shoulder gently.
"Beta… are you still scared of school?"
Aarohi shook her head.
She wasn't scared of school.
She was scared of herself.
Of her memories.
Of the boy who followed her through death.
Her father placed a hand over her mother's.
"We'll take a family day," he said. "All four of us. Get some fresh air."
Aarohi tensed immediately.
Outside?
Where the boy could appear again?
Where she might see another message?
Where she might hear another whisper?
Her mother noticed her flinch and spoke softly.
"We don't have to go if it makes you uncomfortable."
Everyone waited for her answer.
Arin watched her more closely than anyone.
After a long moment, Aarohi whispered:
"I… want to stay home today."
Her parents nodded gently, not pushing her.
Arin secretly let out a breath of relief, as if he didn't want to leave her side either.
---
Aarohi sat on her bed while Arin sat at the foot of it, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket.
He finally looked up.
"Aarohi… do you remember anything else from that night?"
She shook her head slowly.
"Just… just the rain… and him calling my name…"
She closed her eyes tightly.
"There was a sound. Like… like metal hitting something. A crash. And then everything went dark."
Arin stilled.
"A car accident?" he whispered under his breath.
But Aarohi shook her head weakly.
"I don't know. I just remember the cold. And…"
Her voice trembled.
"And the sound of him breathing beside me. Weak. So weak…"
Her heart squeezed painfully.
"I think he was scared too," she whispered.
Arin's eyes softened with something that looked like pity and anger mixed together.
But not at her.
At whoever — or whatever — did this to her.
He scooted closer and took her hand gently.
"You're not alone in this," he said quietly. "We'll figure it out."
Aarohi nodded slowly, though fear still sat heavy in her chest.
---
The afternoon passed quietly.
Too quietly.
Aarohi sat by the window, staring at the gray sky.
Clouds gathered again—
dark, heavy, threatening rain.
The same kind of sky from her memory.
Her heart beat faster.
Her breath grew shallow.
She whispered to herself, "Please… not today… not again…"
But as the first raindrop hit the glass, she felt it—
His presence.
Subtle.
Cold.
Familiar.
Her fingers curled around the window frame.
Her heartbeat thudded painfully.
The sky darkened further.
The rain grew heavier.
With every drop, the memory grew clearer.
Aarohi pressed her forehead against the cold glass.
And then—
A shadow appeared at the edge of the backyard.
Her breath stopped.
Her body froze.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
Her lips parted, her voice a ghostly whisper:
"Riaan…?"
The shadow didn't move.
Didn't step forward.
Didn't step back.
Didn't hide.
He stood there under the rain, like a memory refusing to fade.
Aarohi's legs shook violently.
Arin's voice came from behind her.
"Aarohi? What are you—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
He looked out the window.
His jaw clenched.
Because he saw it too.
"Aarohi…" he whispered, putting an arm around her, "don't move."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"This is him… I know it… I feel it…"
Arin's grip tightened around her shoulder.
But then—
The shadow turned.
And disappeared behind the trees.
Aarohi gasped.
"No—wait—!"
She pressed her palm to the glass desperately.
"Don't go…"
Her voice cracked.
Arin turned her toward him.
"Aarohi! Stop! Don't follow him!"
But she wasn't trying to follow.
She was begging.
Begging for answers.
Begging for truth.
Begging to remember who he was.
Her tears fell faster.
"Arin…" she whispered, voice breaking, "why does it feel like I hurt him?"
Arin pulled her into his chest.
"You didn't," he whispered fiercely. "You didn't."
But Aarohi sobbed harder.
Because the deeper she fell into her memories…
the more she felt the truth:
She wasn't just afraid of the boy.
She was ashamed.
Ashamed of forgetting him.
Ashamed of leaving him in the darkness.
Ashamed that he remembered every detail while she remembered nothing.
And somewhere deep inside her soul—
she felt something else too.
Something she didn't want to admit.
Something far more dangerous than fear.
A connection.
A thread between their souls.
Bruised.
Torn.
But still there.
Still tight.
Still pulling her toward him.
She whispered the truth she couldn't deny anymore:
"It feels like… like he knew me better than I knew myself."
And that…
scared her more than death.
---