Happyy reading ✨️🦋
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Aziza is in her room at night, post the chutney incident. The lughter has faded. She's alone, brushing her damp hair. A song plays low in the background - an old song, melancholic, something her ex-best friend used to hum.

Aziza sat by the window, the the soft moonlight hitting the pages of her old diary. She hadn't opened it in months-maybe years. But today, something just pushed her to confront a louder silence from her past.

She flipped through the worn pages, her handwriting shaky in some, furious in others. One entry caught her eye.

Feb 9 - " Today Tanya was talking to Aditi the whole day. I walked around the backstage alone. and then sat near the garden getting super bored. I miss her soo much... when we used to have fun together"

Feb 17 - "You know, Aditi was absent today, and I Had the best time with Tanya today. Just like the old times, we talked and ran in the backstage."

Her fingers trembled. The words blurred slightly, her breath catching in her throat.

It had been four years. four years of telling herself she was the problem. That she wasn't fun enough, cool enough, exciting enough. That's why Tanya drifted. That's why she stopped talking. That's why everything faded.

Aziza had waited. Through competitions they went to together, where Tanya barely spoke to her, only when the others were busy. Through that awful art event, where Tanya was busy clicking pictures with Aditi while Aziza stood with glue on her fingers and disappointment in her chest. They had been so excited to miss school on that Friday and going to the competition together, they had planned eating, gossiping and exploring the school together. but none of it happened- only echoes of laughter from Tanya and Aditi's conversation were heard. She waited, and waited-until one day, something in her broke.

She remembered thinking, What if she leaves me forever? What if one more month of attention from someone else, and I'm erased completely?

That's when she chose herself. She stopped chasing. Stopped hoping. And when Tanya came back, Aziza didn't.

Because she had nothing left to give.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She had cried enough back then. It did not end there- the time when Aziza needed space and did not need Tanya back in her life, Tanya forced her way back in. and Aziza let her, even after knowing this might destroy her.

FLASHBACK (Class 9th)

It was the day Aziza had finally decided to let go. To stop hoping. She entered school with a quiet resolve, her heart heavy but her face calm. Just outside her classroom, she saw Tanya laughing with Aditi again-so effortlessly, like Aziza had never even existed.

But today... it didn't sting the same way. Not like before.

"Aziza, aaj itni dukhi kyun lag rahi hai?" Saisha asked gently, settling beside her.

"Kuch nahi, mujhe kya hona hai?" Aziza replied, forcing a smile.

Before Saisha could press further, Tanya's voice cut through the corridor.

"Sania hat na, main apna bag rakhun!"

Tanya barely looked at Aziza anymore. They used to sit together, laugh about the dumbest things, share snacks and secrets. But ever since Aditi had entered the picture, everything changed. Tanya only spoke about Aditi-what Aditi said, what Aditi wore, what Aditi thought. And every lunch break, she left Aziza behind. Alone.

Aziza used to wait for Aditi to disappear so she could have Tanya back, even if only for a while. But now, she had learned something bitter:
Yes, she was important. But she wasn't a priority.

This went on for days, weeks until...

One day, Aditi stopped talking to Tanya. She exposed her secrets, mocked her behind her back, and turned the same group Tanya had chased against her. And when Tanya realised she had been used, she came running back...
Back to Aziza. Expecting open arms.

But Aziza had already learned her lesson.

She ignored her. Not with hatred, but with self-preservation. Tanya had been too late.

And when Juhi and Saisha were forced to take sides, they chose Aziza-not out of politics, but out of truth. Tanya was left on the sidelines. Alone.

Eventually, in 2 months things patched up after the summer break. They began talking again. Laughing. Even formed a new group of four-Aziza, Tanya, Juhi, and S. It felt nice for a while-safe, familiar. Like the hurt had never happened.

Until Tanya started dragging the past into every little thing.

FLASHBACK -
Group chat:

Juhi : Guyzz mai toh Kal school nhi aaungi

Tanya : Marjaa yaarr tujhe aana padega Maine tujhe kal bhi kaha tha!

Aziza : are nhi voh kyu aye, teri baat thodi sunnegi 😔☝️

Juhi : hahaha Haan Mai toh vese hi kissi ki baat nhi sunti hu 💅

Tanya : Marjao saare, mere upar kyu chhad rahi hai? Maine toh bas ese hi bola!

After this, Tanya became cold. Dry replies. Passive silence. Aziza noticed the shift and asked her if everything was okay. The reply shattered her.

Bhai dekh, Maine tujhe pehle bhi bol rakha hai and abhi bhi bolrahi hun... jab tum log gang up karthe ho mujhe pe toh mujhe bahut hurt hotha h yaar mat kara karo. Dekh bhai hassi mazaak ke liye it's totally fine when it's something stupid I did but when I'm making fun of someone and then you come up to defend that person it really hurts me Aziza. And the thing is it doesn't hurt me when Juhi does it or Saisha does. It does when you do beacuse, everytime something like that happens and everyone takes a side against me it takes me back to class 9th like how it was when none of u were talking with me. Dekh bro when in school jab saare hothe h na it's different, Saisha usually takes my side when u both side against me so it still seems fine but chat mein it's different and I just felt so bad like I used to in class 9 and i just can't overcome the trauma you gave me no matter what.

Aziza reread the message.

Once.

Twice.

Her fingers hovered above the screen, her heart beating so loud it drowned out the song still playing faintly in the background.

Trauma?

She bit her lower lip, blinking away the sudden sting in her eyes. The moonlight had shifted, casting softer shadows now. But Aziza didn't feel soft-she felt raw. Stripped bare.

How easy it had been for Tanya to twist the narrative. How easily she had forgotten the months Aziza had walked alone, eaten alone, stood in corridors with her heart squeezed tight because her best friend wouldn't even look her in the eye.

Tanya had left first. Tanya had chosen someone else. Tanya had made Aziza feel unwanted.

And yet... she always made Aziza feel guilty for walking away.

How many times had Aziza apologized-for being hurt? For having boundaries? For needing space?

Aziza remembered that one evening after school. She had walked home crying, trying to understand what she did wrong. Maybe she was too sensitive. Too emotional. Too boring.

But now, years later, sitting by the window with her diary open and that message glaring at her like a scar reopened.

Tanya wasn't looking for understanding. She was looking for submission-for Aziza to always fold, to always make space for her, even when Tanya had left none for her.

Aziza had always been made to believe that the breakup was her fault. That she was the one who abandoned Tanya. But the truth was-

Tanya only came back when it was convenient. When Aditi left. When she was alone.

And when Aziza didn't let her in immediately, she blamed her.

Not once did she say, "I'm sorry I left you."
Not once did she ask, "Were you okay?"
It was always, "You gave me trauma."

She looked at the old diary again. The paper had yellowed at the edges, the ink fading in places, but the pain was still sharp. Still present. As if no time had passed at all.

All those years, Aziza had shrunk herself-bent and twisted her heart into shapes that might be easier to love, to hold on to. She had tried to be softer, funnier, quieter, louder-whatever it took. But it had never been enough. Because no matter what she did, Tanya had already decided she wasn't worth staying for.

And now? Now she was the villain in someone else's story.

She shut the diary slowly and placed it beside her, her fingers still trembling. Then she got up, walked to the mirror, and looked at herself-really looked.

Eyes tired. Face pale. Hair clinging to her neck. But there was something else too. Something different from four years ago.

Aziza wasn't perfect. She had made mistakes. She had hurt people too, maybe unintentionally. But she had always shown up. Always given more than she had. Always stayed even when she was hurting.

Aziza stood there, still in front of the mirror, eyes glassy but unblinking. The fan whirred above, the song from her speaker had faded out, leaving only a hollow void. She could hear the faint tick of the wall clock.

1:00 AM.

Her phone lit up on the table.

Radio Majnu - 1AM

Her chest tightened, but not from fear. It had become a rhythm now - this strange, silent ritual. The blank calls.

She stared at it for a moment, letting it ring, unsure if she even had the strength to hear that silence again.

But then - it stopped.

And then... a soft hum.

"Jo tu nahi toh aisa main chehra

Ke jiski khoobsurti maand padi ho..."

Aziza's breath caught. She didn't know when her knees gave out, only that she was suddenly sitting on the floor, the cold tiles against her skin grounding her.

"Aisa main dariya, jo behna na chahe..."

A sound escaped her lips - not quite a sob, but something fragile, cracking at the edges.These weren't just lyrics. They were her reflection.

Her story.
Her silence.
Her ache.

How long had she felt like that unmoving river?

How long had she stopped trying to flow?

"Iski khamoshi ki tu wajah hai na..."

Aziza sat on the cold floor, her back pressed against the wall, eyes still closed, her fingers holding onto the phone like a lifeline. The music continued, but the silence between the notes was louder than anything she'd ever felt.

She didn't know how long she sat there, suspended in this moment between the past and the present. The song began to fade, but the hum of it still lingered, humming softly in her chest, like the heartbeat of the universe. She finally opened her eyes, standing up, still holding the phone, her emotions in turmoil but her mind beginning to clear.

With a deep breath, she walked over to her window and looked out into the dark night. The moonlight washed over the streets below, as if nothing had changed. But Aziza knew it had. She felt it deep within her, the beginnings of something-maybe closure, maybe a new chapter.

In the quiet of the night, the blank call had done something unexpected. It had unlocked a door she had kept shut for so long, and for the first time in months, Aziza didn't feel like the broken one. She didn't feel like the abandoned friend.

She felt like someone who had been found.
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What about me?

You say I hurt you, broke you apart
Like a villan with no heart.
But, what about me? Did u ever see?
The cracks in my heart, the ache within me?

You call me your world, your best, your light
Yet turn to another when I'm out sight.
You push, you pull, you walk away
Then act like I'm the one who made you a prey

You remind me of the pain I gave you
Like I'm a monster you forgave
But what about all the nights I cried?
When you ignored me, left me behind...
You say you've forgiven, but still twist the knife,
What did I do to deserve thus life?

I've apologised more times than I can recall
Yet this cycle of hurt shadows us all
Was choosing myself that bad?
Was wanting some freedom and peace that harsh?

This just seems like a dance of hurt in disguise
Friendship should never feel like lies...

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