Nobody confessed anything.Nobody promised forever and nobody belonged to anybody. It is just a memory-one that somehow managed to stay with me for fifteen long years.
The Ordinary Days
We were classmates in school. Like most friendships, ours started in the margins of daily life:
- Sharing tiffins
- Travelling on the same bus
- Exchanging school gossip
- Spending hours talking on the phone
At that age, everything felt completely normal. We never could have guessed that one day, these utterly ordinary moments would become the ones worth writing about.
She wasn’t perfect. She had her flaws and her habits. But whenever she smiled, her cheeks would swell like a rasgulla, and a tiny dimple would peek out on her right cheek. Even today, fifteen years later, I can see that smile perfectly.
I also remember her ponytail. I used to pull it, tease her, and call it a broom just to annoy her. She would get angry for a few seconds, puff her cheeks, and then burst out laughing. At the time, it was just another silly joke between friends. Today, it’s a memory that refuses to leave.
Funny how memory works. It forgets the exact words, but it keeps the emotions alive.
The Coffee “Date”
As time passed, life grew busier and the future started demanding our attention. Yet, we always found time. Long phone calls became a ritual. Some conversations lasted so long that day melted into night before we even noticed. Hours felt like minutes; days felt like seconds.
Then came the day we decided to meet for coffee.
To this day, I still don’t know what that meeting actually was. Was it just coffee? A casual hangout between friends? Or something that looked suspiciously like a date? I never found the answer.
What I do remember is rocking up to the café wearing shorts and chappals. Even after fifteen years, that memory makes me laugh out loud.
Then she arrived.
She was beautiful. Not in a dramatic, slow-motion, movie-like way, but in a way that made me completely forget every sensible thing I had planned to say.
We ordered coffee. Then brownies. Then more coffee. Before either of us realized it, three hours had completely vanished. At one point, we joked that we had consumed so much caffeine that neither of us would sleep that night. “And if we can’t sleep,” we laughed, “we’ll just call each other and make plans to meet again tomorrow.”
Looking back now, it sounds so simple. But at that time, it meant everything.
Before leaving, she looked at me, smiled, and said, “Next time, dress properly.”
I just laughed. Maybe because she was entirely right, or maybe because I was secretly thrilled that she had already assumed there would be a next time.
The Aftermath
Eventually, the evening ended. I dropped her near her ride, said goodbye, and watched her blend into the crowd. That should have been the final chapter.
But somehow, it wasn’t.
That night, she slept soundly. I didn’t. I stayed up for hours, replaying the entire day in my head-the coffee, the brownies, the laughter, and that one parting sentence: “Next time, dress properly.”
Fifteen years have passed since then. Life moved on, people changed, and time did what time always does. Yet, some memories stubbornly refuse to fade.
Sometimes I remember her smile. Sometimes I remember the little dimple on her cheek. Sometimes I remember the ponytail I used to tease her about. And sometimes, I remember a simple cup of coffee that somehow stayed with me for fifteen years.
I can still hear the exact way she used to say “Hi.” And every single time it echoes in my mind, I find myself smiling.
This is not a love story. It is just a memory.
One that never learned how to leave.