Aarohi woke with swollen eyes.
Her entire body felt drained, as if the night had taken something from her —
something heavy, something deep, something she wasn't sure she could ever get back.
Her head throbbed.
Her chest hurt.
Her breath was shallow.
But worst of all?
She felt watched even in the morning light.
She sat up slowly.
Arin was asleep at the foot of her bed, head resting on his folded arms.
He must've stayed awake again… guarding her.
Aarohi's heart ached painfully.
Why is he suffering because of me?
She gently touched his hair.
He stirred but didn't wake.
His eyelashes brushed his cheeks softly, his shoulders rising and falling with exhausted breaths.
He was fighting a battle that wasn't his.
A battle she wasn't ready to share.
---
A soft knock came at the door.
"Aarohi?" her mother whispered. "May I come in?"
Aarohi nodded faintly.
Her mother walked in, carrying a tray of warm breakfast.
The smell of parathas and butter filled the room — a smell that used to mean comfort.
But today, it made Aarohi's stomach twist.
Her mother sat beside her gently.
"Beta… Arin told us you had a terrible nightmare."
Aarohi swallowed hard.
Her mother stroked her cheek. "You're shaking. Were you crying again?"
Tears instantly burned her eyes.
She didn't want to lie.
She didn't want to tell the truth.
She didn't want them to see the monster of her past creeping into her new life.
So she whispered:
"I don't know what's happening to me."
Her mother's eyes softened.
"You're still healing, Aarohi. Sometimes the body remembers things before the mind can."
Aarohi stiffened.
Her mother didn't know how true those words were.
Her mother kissed her forehead.
"We're here. Always."
Aarohi bit her lip hard, trying not to break in front of her.
Her mother left quietly after placing the tray on the bedside table.
Aarohi stared at the food.
And suddenly—
The smell triggered something.
A flash.
A blurry kitchen.
Aara sitting at a table alone.
A cold chapati on a metal plate.
Silent tears dropping on it.
Her brother yelling in another room.
Her mother ignoring her shaking hands.
Her father walking past as if she didn't exist.
Her breath quickened.
"No… stop…"
Arin woke with a jerk.
"Aarohi?! What happened?!"
She pressed her hands to her temples.
The room spun.
Tears streamed down.
"I remembered something else…" she whispered.
Arin pulled her close immediately.
"Another memory from that night?"
She shook her head.
"No… from my first life."
Arin froze.
She took a shuddering breath.
"Arin… I wasn't happy. I wasn't okay. I cried alone every day. I ate alone. I lived alone."
Her tears fell faster.
"I didn't have anyone. And when I finally died… someone died with me."
Arin held her tighter, burying his face in her hair.
"Aarohi… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through that…"
Aarohi sobbed softly.
"It's like everything I buried is coming back all at once."
Arin's voice cracked.
"I wish I could've been there in your first life too."
Aarohi's heart twisted painfully.
She whispered:
"You're here now."
Arin's grip tightened.
"I'll never leave."
---
Later, Aarohi stepped into the bathroom to wash her face.
She turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto her skin.
When she looked up at the mirror—
she didn't see herself.
She saw Aara.
The older version of her.
Sad.
Lonely.
Eyes filled with exhaustion and heartbreak.
Aarohi stumbled backward, hand covering her mouth.
The reflection flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And then—
Behind Aara's reflection…
a silhouette appeared.
Tall.
Still.
Silent.
The boy.
The one who died with her.
Aarohi gasped.
The reflection moved closer.
The boy's blurred face leaned near Aara's ear.
And whispered:
"I waited for you."
Aarohi screamed and fell against the bathroom wall.
Arin burst in instantly.
"Aarohi?!"
She pointed at the mirror with shaking hands.
"He was there… he was right there…"
Arin looked.
The mirror showed only their reflections.
Empty.
Aarohi crumbled to the floor, head buried in her palms.
"Why can't he leave me alone…?"
Arin knelt and pulled her into his arms.
"Aarohi… look at me. I'm here. He can't touch you."
But she wasn't crying because of fear.
She was crying because—
"He looked… broken."
Arin froze.
"What?"
Aarohi wiped her trembling lips.
"In the mirror… he didn't look angry. He looked like…"
She swallowed painfully.
"Like someone who lost everything."
Arin's chest tightened.
"Aarohi, don't empathize with him—"
"I can't help it," she whispered.
"I feel like my pain is tangled with his."
Arin shook his head.
"Aarohi, please—"
But she wasn't listening.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I feel like he knew me better than anyone ever did."
Arin's entire body went still.
His breath stopped for a second.
Something inside him cracked.
He whispered tightly:
"Aarohi… he died. He's not here for love. He's haunting you."
Aarohi shook her head slowly.
"No… it doesn't feel like haunting. It feels like hurting."
Her voice trembled.
"Hurting because I forgot him."
A painful silence filled the room.
Arin closed his eyes, jaw clenched.
There was a storm inside him too.
Fear.
Jealousy.
Helplessness.
Protectiveness.
And something else—
Hatred.
Not for Aarohi.
But for the boy who refused to let her live.
He whispered finally:
"Aarohi… whatever he was to you… whoever he was… he's gone now. He can't come back."
Aarohi looked up at him with broken eyes.
Her voice barely a breath:
"Then why does it feel like he never left?"
Arin had no answer.
Because deep down…
he felt it too.
A presence in the walls.
A watchful gaze.
A memory of a boy neither of them fully knew.
But Aarohi whispered one last truth that made Arin's heart drop:
"When I looked into the mirror… I didn't see a ghost."
She swallowed hard.
"I saw a boy who's still waiting for me."
---