ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Ashwani, an amateur writer, loves turning words into an imaginary world. Apart from reading books, writing makes her the happiest. Crafting engaging stories and exploring the pages of books, she thrives her best to bring her ideas into life. 

BEFORE THE LAST GOODBYE 

“Anjali, do you know Arjun has returned to India?“

Saira asked, and Anjali continued on doing her work absentmindedly. Anjali and Saira had been friends since Anjali joined the architectural house. And Arjun has been Anjali's classmate. More precisely, Anjali's love of her life, or so she thought. And Saira was also their classmate, who later down the lane became Anjali's friend.

Saira elbowed her, breaking Anjali's train of thoughts. “Hey,” Saira whispered, “Earth to Anjali?“

Anjali snapped out of her thoughts and blinked her eyes at the lady in front of her; Saira furiously glanced at her.

“What?“

“Are you even listening to me?“

Anjali gave her a vague nod and returned to her work.

They both work in the same firm as assistant architects.

Anjali was lost again in her thoughts, her beautiful yet painful past.

But Saira kept on talking about their school, their friendships, and also the upcoming school reunion that was less than two weeks away.

A reunion that she wasn't ready for.

Anjali kept her phone back and lay down on the bed, clutching the sheets too tightly. She traveled back to her memories; a single drop of tear found its way through her cheeks to her ears.

"Is this seat taken?" A sudden voice startled Anjali.

She wasn't expecting any human interaction at that moment. Her usual refuge, the quiet corner of the library, was her haven from the bustling, often bewildering, world of school.

Anjali had always been a plain Jane, her world revolving around the dog-eared pages of a novel or the intricate theories laid out in her textbooks.

She found her companions between hardcovers far more engaging than her life. She was interested in books and always found herself in the library, a place where the loudest sound was the gentle rustle of pages or the old fan's broken record-like whooshing.

The school was alien to her, despite having studied there since kindergarten. She knew every corridor, every classroom, but it felt like an outsider looking in.

The popular gangs, the loud chatter in the canteen, and the sports victories—it all felt like a foreign film she was observing, disinterested. She knew that most of the teachers didn't even know her name but mostly reinforced her comfortable anonymity.

She looked up, startled, to see a figure standing over her. Nodding vaguely, she returned to her books.

Arjun didn't wait for an answer. Arjun simply slid into the empty chair beside her, a move that was effortless.

Anjali's eyes, wide with surprise, darted from his face and around. She felt a blush creep up her neck, or more precisely, embarrassment. She didn't think he'd sit next to her.

She looked around the whole library, noticing that no one was staring at her. She was scared.

Arjun, however, seemed entirely at ease. He didn't pick up a book. Instead, he simply sat, precisely observing her. He watched the way her dusky small fingers carefully turned the pages of her worn copy of 'The Book Thief,' tracing the words even before her eyes caught them.

He noticed the subtle shift in her gaze, how her eyes danced across the words; sometimes she looked around, and sometimes she stole a glance at him.

He even saw the way she'd occasionally forget to breathe, thinking somebody noticed her or him, together.

He had been observing her for a while now. The first time he'd truly noticed her was on the school's first day a year ago. The multimedia room had been a chaotic hub of nervous new students, lenient parents, and loud chatter.

Yet, there she was, tucked away in a corner, already absentmindedly, as if she were in a different world. She seemed out of place.

And since then, she had been his interest.

Anjali abruptly stopped reading and silently walked out of the library, her brain clogged.

Arjun heaved a sigh and stared at the space where she was sitting a while ago.

A few days later, Arjun's eyes found her again, not in the library but in their classroom. All the other students were in the multimedia room, practicing for the upcoming annual day function. Anjali, however, was where she always seemed to be—alone, a book open on her desk, lost in its world.

He moved silently, like a shadow, pulling out the chair next to hers. She didn't flinch this time, didn't even register his presence until he was already settled. He just sat there, patiently waiting for her to notice him. But she was lost in her books, and Arjun in her.

Arjun cleared his throat softly, a gentle sound that startled Anjali from her trance. She looked up, her large, expressive eyes blinking, slowly settling on him. She fixed her glasses again, wiping the sweat beads and looking around scared.

"You really love books, don't you?" he questioned.

Anjali felt that familiar blush creep up her neck again. "Yes," she managed, her voice thin and low.

"They're... they're better than real life, sometimes." She immediately regretted the last part, wishing she could take back the words. Too much, Anjali, too much. She whispered, absentmindedly.

Arjun just smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I get that," he said, surprising her. "What are you reading now?"

"It's... it's Norwegian Wood," she confessed, holding up the well-worn paperback slightly.

"For the third time."

He nodded, trying to muster courage. "Okay. So, why aren't you in the multimedia room with everyone else?"

She shrugged, looking down at her book. "I'm not really good at it. Or anything related to the annual day. And anyway, I don't really have a part."

"Neither do I," Arjun admitted, leaning back in his chair.

"Couldn't stand another minute of Mrs. Sharma's scoldings. Plus, it's surprisingly peaceful here when it's empty." He glanced around the quiet classroom. "So, you just... sit here and read while everyone else is performing?"

Anjali nodded, feeling self-conscious as she felt his eyes traveling on her. "It's nice. Quiet." She managed to say it silently and softly. Her eyes traveled to and fro, from him to the entrance of the classroom. Praying no one notices her with him.

"Yeah," he agreed, "it is." You know," he continued, a hint of curiosity in his tone, "I've seen you around. Always with a book. You're always in the library, too."

She nodded but said nothing. Clearly, not showing any interest. Arjun could see her willfully avoiding him, but he dismissed the thought and started talking to her about books, and she was internally happy to talk to him about them. A part of her was scared at the thought of someone noticing them.

After a while, Arjun shifted a little closer to her and whispered, “Well, it's good.“

Anjali glanced at him, and he said, ”I mean, the quiet comfort of the classroom, with the quietest girl in school."

Anjali's cheeks flamed, but a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She didn't know what to say to that, so she just looked down at her book, but this time, she didn't read.

The silence wasn't awkward; it was comfortable. And that, for Anjali, was a feeling that was foreign.

They didn't confess but were aware of the feeling and continued their game of stolen glances or shy smiles.

The library and the quiet classroom became their unlikely havens. Arjun, the popular guy, found himself drawn to Anjali's calm demeanor, to the way her eyes lit up when she discussed a character or the books, or the shy smile that adorned her face.

They started meeting quite often, not just in the mounds of books or the silent, lit-up library, but during lunch breaks or even after school.

He'd tell her about the sports, and she'd listen to him quietly.

Anjali, the bookworm girl, slowly bloomed under his unexpected attention. His genuine curiosity, his easy laughter, and the way he listened, truly listened, made her feel seen in a way she never had before.

For the first time, she wasn't just observing life; she was living it. They shared quiet jokes, bookish characters and plots, and sometimes just sat in comfortable silence, their shoulders almost touching. These were beautiful moments, crafted together from stolen glances and whispered conversations. It was a secret world they built, fragile yet intensely real.

The annual day arrived, finally. Arjun, as expected, was a central figure celebrated for his role in a skit. Anjali watched from a distance, a soft smile on her face.

Later, during the performances of others, Anjali felt a familiar pang of being judged. She decided to slip away early, seeking the quiet, empty library once more.

As she was leaving, she overheard some students congratulating Arjun, while some stared at him with an unexpected but jealous eye. She then saw Arjun's friends looking at her with a smug smile. She darted her eyes but heard a conversation from them.

"I can't believe Arjun's actually spending time with her," one girl giggled, her voice laced with disgust. Another chimed in, "Yeah, it's probably just a dare, and he's obviously going to dump her in no time. You know how he is, always getting what he wants."

The words hit Anjali like a bullet. A dare? Was it all a game to him? Her mind, so accustomed to seeing herself low, immediately reflected her deepest insecurities. She forgot to breathe for a second, trembling. The whispers from others seemed to confirm every fear she'd ever had about being a "plain Jane," about being used or mocked.

She left the school premises, her heart heavy and eyes stinging.

The next day, Arjun found her, as usual, in the library. He walked up, a cheerful smile on his face, ready to tell her about yesterday's happenings.

But Anjali didn't look up from her book.

"Anjali?" he urged, with a slight frown and creased eyebrows.

She finally lifted her head, her eyes distant and cold. "Don't bother," she said, her voice flat and hurt.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused.

"I heard them," she continued, her voice slightly low. "Your friends. Talking about how I was just a dare. How you were just... playing a game."

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his face. She wiped her tears, too harsh.

"I'm not stupid, Arjun. I know what I am. And I know what you are. Just leave me alone."

Arjun's face fell. "A dare? What are you talking about? That's crazy! Who told you that?" He asked, but she looked away.

"It doesn't matter," she said, pulling her book close like a shield. "Just go. Please. I don't want to see you anymore." Her voice broke on the last word.

He stood there, stunned, hurt. He tried to explain, to ask again what she'd heard, but she was gone, just like that. Not caring about him, she walked away.

The bright, beautiful moments they had shared flashed in front of his eyes. He saw the pain in her eyes, a pain he was apparently responsible for, and a wall he couldn't break through.

With a heavy sigh and a feeling of utter helplessness, Arjun turned and walked away from the library. He never saw her again until the exams, but she ignored him skillfully.

And with that, their beautiful story came to an abrupt, painful breakup.

The school reunion invitation card shone brightly in her hand. Saira held her hand.

“It's nothing. If you see him in there, just ignore him.“

Anjali nodded, but her heart said something else. She wanted to meet him just to apologize. She had overreacted, although it's been a decade, but he deserved an apology.

She had been thinking about it; she had acted impulsively, and she believed his friend's words over him.

The lawn was full of humans, some clicking pictures while some were eating. Anjali stood in a corner, trying to find a face that she was eager to see.

But she didn't find him; walking out of the entrance, she found herself in the streets.

She slowly walked along the dimly lit streets. Her heart was heavy, and her eyes teared. She wished to see him, at least for once. A quiet pace next to her broke her reverie.

Anjali lifted her eyes and glanced at the man next to her.

“Anjali“.

Arjun called her softly. Anjali blinked her eyes several times, a scene that fluttered his heart, the exact way it did years ago.

The voice startled her. Arjun quietly studied her expressions.

She looked different.

“How have you been?“

Arjun questioned, watching her bewildered expressions.

Taking a breath, she replied.

They walked side by side quietly, with longing hearts.

“I'm sorry.“

Anjali said meekly, and Arjun turned to her but said nothing. When he remained silent, Anjali took a deep breath and softly whispered, “I'm sorry. I didn't trust you back then. I'm…“ She struggled to voice it, the pain still raw and fresh.

Arjun heaved a sigh but remained silent; he really needed to know what she had to say.

“Anjali?“ When she didn't say further, Arjun called out. She lifted her head but didn't glance at him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't try harder to make you stay.“

Anjali continued to stare at him.

His words hung in the air, but she felt wrong again. She felt his apology as a weapon that had shattered her confidence.

Arjun cleared his throat, but she still said nothing. And he looked ahead, where the moon's light shimmered gently and the night's cold breeze slapped his hair and her dupatta.

“You didn’t have to,” she finally said, her voice low.

“You were never supposed to fight, not for me. I should’ve let you explain. Instead, I walked away. I wronged you; I'm sorry.“

She said meekly but firmly. 

Arjun opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a moment, all he could hear was the wind, the chattering of kids playing in the playground, and the street vendors.

“Why didn't you trust me, us?“

Arjun turned to her then. His eyes were almost tearing and painful.

“I let my insecurities win. I overheard your friends saying I'm just a game for you, and my insecurities got the best of me. I'm sorry.”

“Anjali, I'm sorry too. I should have fought if you couldn't then. And I'm really sorry that I didn't take a stand for you. I should’ve.“

Arjun somehow hesitantly murmured.

Silence again. But this time, it felt different—less like avoidance, more like acknowledgment.

They stopped walking. Standing against a tree's shadow in complete silence, they have walked too far from the reunion location.

“Can we start again?“

After a long walk back, Arjun asked her, but this time with confidence.

“It's been years, Arjun. We don't know each other any longer.“

“But we're still the same, Anju.“

They stayed silent, a long, quiet, but soothing comfort.

“I missed you every day,” she whispered, the words trembling.

“Me too,” Arjun replied, and for the first time in years, he let it show.

Anjali teared up, but a small smile tugged at her lips, and Arjun stared at her with love-filled eyes.

Years after that reunion, they stood together, looking out at the glittering lights of Mumbai from their apartment, hand in hand. It was a happy ending.

"Second chances aren’t about rewriting the past—they’re about choosing love again, knowing exactly what it costs."