Me , Rohini And Ahmedabad

It had been a long, exhausting day. I was sitting on the flight, just wanting to close my eyes for a while, when a man in a red leather jacket and a long beard sat beside me. His face looked familiar — tired, but known.

It took me a few seconds to realize… this was Akash.

We had been the best of friends in college — the kind of boys who were always at every party, laughing loud, living free. But life happened, jobs happened, and we lost touch.

“Hey, Akash!” I said, almost surprised at my own excitement.

He looked up, smiled faintly, and said, “Rahul? What a coincidence, yaar! Kitne saal baad mil rahe hain.”

We talked. I teased him about his beard, about how he looked like a 40-year-old uncle instead of the wild, carefree Akash I used to know. He laughed a little, then went quiet for a few seconds.

When I asked where he was headed, he said, “Ahmedabad.”

“For work?” I asked.

He shook his head slightly. “Rohini yaad hai? Electrical department wali.

Rahul, ever been on a flight that feels heavier than it looks?” Akash said, looking out of the window. The city lights of Mumbai were fading behind us. He smiled faintly, that kind of smile that hides a story.

I nodded, and he began.

You remember Rohini, right?

That girl from the Electrical Department — the ultra-studious one half our college was crazy about?

Yeah… that one.

I liked her from the very first year, Rahul. But you know me — the fun guy, always at parties, never serious about anything. I knew someone like her would never take me seriously.

But on the last day of college, I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the feeling of losing something before even trying. So I walked up to her and said it — straight.

“Rohini, I really like you.”

She didn’t say yes… or no. Just smiled.

But that silence — that little smile — it gave me hope.

After that, we started talking.

First casually, then every day, then all day. From good morning to good night, she became a part of every routine I had.

We shared everything — work, life, random thoughts, stupid jokes. We weren’t officially in a relationship, but it felt like we were everything to each other.

Six, seven months passed like that.

Then one day, I got an office assignment — Ahmedabad.

And guess where Rohini was working? Ahmedabad.

My work was just for one day, but… I extended the trip.

Three days. Just for her.

And, Rahul… those were the three most beautiful days of my life.

⸻

Day One.

We planned to meet at a café around 10 a.m.

I didn’t sleep the entire night before. I kept imagining how she’d look, what she’d wear, what I’d say.

By 6 a.m. I was ready — like a nervous teenager.

And then I saw her walking towards me.

Man… she looked unreal.

White salwar suit, soft curls falling on her shoulders, those deep, calm eyes. It felt like time just stopped.

She hugged me — tightly, warmly. For those few seconds, I swear, everything else just disappeared. That hug… it felt like heaven.

We had lunch, watched a movie, roamed the streets. I don’t even remember half of what we talked about — I was too lost in her smile. That evening, when I dropped her back at her PG and returned to my hotel, I slept like a child. Peaceful. Happy. Complete.

Next morning, I went straight to her PG. She’d taken the day off.

She opened the door wearing a blue top and pink shorts. And Rahul… she looked stunning. That small, neatly decorated room — it felt like her reflection.

She made tea for both of us. We talked for hours, laughed like we used to in college. Then she looked at me and said softly, “Come, sit here.” She patted the bed beside her.

I sat. She held my hand.

And for a second, I just forgot how to breathe.

I kissed her. She didn’t stop me. It was soft, slow… like the world had vanished. I’d never felt anything like that before.

It was like electricity under my skin. My hands trembled as I slid her top a little. She didn’t stop me.

For a few seconds, time stopped. Her skin — white as milk, soft as cotton — and that scent, like rain on dry earth. I kissed her shoulders, her back, her neck. She moaned softly, her fingers clutching my shirt. I lost myself.

Then, just when I moved my hand to unbutton her shorts, she held my hand — firmly. “No, Akash,” she said.

And just like that, the moment broke.

She moved back, said softly, “This isn’t right.”

I stopped immediately.

I didn’t say a word. She didn’t owe me anything.

We sat in silence for a while, then went out for lunch as if nothing had happened.

The third day, she came to my hotel room. We got close again — a few kisses, some laughter — but still, no sex.

I didn’t understand why, but I didn’t question her either.

That was my last day in Ahmedabad. I dropped her, and the next morning, I was gone.

⸻

Back home, everything went back to normal — endless calls, long chats, inside jokes.

But now there was something more — something intimate, playful, a little naughty.

Then, one night, she said, “I need to tell you something important.”

Her tone was serious. I thought she was joking at first. But then she said it — and Rahul, I swear, my heart stopped.

She told me she’d been in a relationship for the past eight years.

Since school.

His name was Rakesh.

Those random moments when she’d suddenly disconnect my call saying “Mom’s calling”?

It was him.

I didn’t know what to say. I just exploded.

I shouted, cursed, said things I shouldn’t have. She kept saying “sorry,” over and over. But I couldn’t stop.

For days, we kept fighting. I started drinking. Stopped going to work. My life was just alcohol and anger.

And then… I crossed the line.

One night, in a drunken rage, I told her that if she left me, I’d leak her private pictures. The ones we’d taken together, mutually.

She broke down. She was terrified.

And you know what, Rahul? I didn’t even have those pictures anymore. I’d deleted them days ago because I couldn’t bear the thought of misusing them.

I loved her. I just didn’t know how to handle losing her.

She got scared — and left her boyfriend.

For the first time ever, she said, “I love you.”

But it didn’t feel like victory. It felt… hollow.

⸻

Days went by. We kept talking. But one night, she sounded off — distant, quiet.

When I asked what was wrong, she said her boyfriend had lost his job and was begging her not to leave.

I asked her what she wanted.

She said nothing. Just that her parents were visiting, and she’d call me later.

Four days passed. Then, one final call.

Her voice was steady, cold.

“Please don’t call or message me again, Akash. I can’t leave him.”

I begged. I cried. But she didn’t bend.

When I called again, she said she’d go to the police if I ever tried contacting her.

That’s when I stopped. Completely.

I was shattered. I’d lost my job, my mind, everything. I’d become someone I didn’t even recognize.

Slowly, somehow, I got back on my feet. Quit drinking. Got a new job. Learned to live again.

But the guilt… that never left.

I still think about her, Rahul. Not with anger, not with longing — but with guilt.

She didn’t deserve what I did. She trusted me. And I broke that.

And now… I’m going back to Ahmedabad.

The same city where I had the best days — and the worst nights — of my life.

I don’t know if she’s still there. I don’t even know if she’d recognize me.

But if I ever see her again… I’ll just say one thing — I’m sorry.

He looked at me. “That’s my story, Rahul. What about you? How’s life treating you?”

And before I could answer, the announcement echoed — “Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff.”

But I kept thinking about Akash… and the kind of love that never really dies — it just lives quietly, somewhere deep inside us.