Aisha clutched her jacket tightly as she approached the café on 5th Avenue. The soft glow of its warm lights spilled out onto the street, a stark contrast to
the frigid New York evening. Her heart raced with every step closer. She didn’t know what to expect—closure? Answers? Or an even deeper wound?
Through the glass window, she spotted him. Arjun sat at a corner table, looking down at his phone, a cup of coffee untouched in front of him. He looked up just as she walked in, his eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, the years seemed to disappear.
Aisha took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Song Flashback
Through the storm and the rain,
I called out your name,
Did you hear me… or was it in vain?”
“Hi,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she slid into the chair across from him.
“Hi,” Arjun replied, his tone equally soft, but his eyes were searching, drinking her in as if trying to reconcile the girl he once knew with the woman sitting before him.
The silence between them stretched uncomfortably until Arjun broke it. “I saw your song.”
Aisha’s cheeks flush “It was just… something from the past.”
“It was more than that,” Arjun said firmly. “It was beautiful. And it was us.”
The weight of his words settled over her, making it hard to breathe.
“I didn’t know you were here, in New York,” he continued. “When I saw that video… I couldn’t believe it.”
“I didn’t think you’d see it,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I didn’t think you’d even remember.”
“Remember?” he repeated, incredulous. “Aisha, that song… it was everything to me. You were everything to me.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but before she could respond, the waitress approached with menus, breaking the intensity of the moment.
As they ordered, a shadow fell across the table. Aisha looked up to see the woman from Arjun’s social media photo standing there.
“Arjun,” the woman said, her tone sharp. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting someone tonight.”
Aisha stiffened as Arjun glanced at her awkwardly. “Nisha, this is Aisha. An old friend.”
Old friend. There it was again.
Nisha’s gaze flicked to Aisha, and her lips curved into a tight smile. “An old friend, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The words felt like a slap, though Aisha couldn’t figure out why.
“Excuse me,” Aisha said, standing abruptly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”
Arjun grabbed her wrist gently. “Aisha, wait.”
But she pulled away, her emotions a whirlwind. “No, Arjun. You clearly have a lot going on. I shouldn’t have come.”
She walked out before he could stop her, the cold air biting at her cheeks as tears threatened to spill.
Later That Night
Aisha sat on her bed, replaying the scene over and over in her mind. She felt foolish for believing Arjun might still feel the same after all these years.
Nisha’s presence had shattered any illusion she’d held onto.Her phone buzzed—another message from Arjun.
“Aisha, please let me explain. It’s not what you think.”
She stared at the message, her anger warring with her curiosity. Finally, she
replied:
“Then what is it, Arjun? Who is she?”
The response was immediate:
“Nisha is my colleague. She’s not… what you think. I just need a chance to explain. Please.”
Aisha wanted to believe him, but the hurt was still too fresh.
The next morning, Aisha was in the middle of a recording session when Danny burst into the studio, his face pale.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, holding up his phone.
“What now?” Aisha asked, her tone wary.
“Your video? It’s been picked up by a major Indian music label. They want to sign you!”
Aisha’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“And that’s not all,” Danny continued. “They want you to perform it live at the International Sports Awards in Mumbai.”
Aisha’s head spun. First the song went viral, then Arjun reappeared, and now this? It felt like her life was spiraling out of control.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Arjun—it was an unknown number.
“Miss Aisha Khan, this is Rajat Verma from Titan Productions. We’d like to formally invite you to perform at the awards ceremony. We understand you’ll be collaborating with our media partner for the event. His name is Arjun Mehra.”
After hearing the name Arjun Mehra over the phone, Aisha’s heart skipped a beat. The words from Rajat Verma seemed to echo in her mind, the weight of the mention of Arjun hanging in the air like a melody she hadn’t thought about in years.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions that hit her. Her
mind raced: Why now? Why him?
A Part of her had hoped—no, expected—that this name would be the one linked to the event. After all, she had thought about him countless times over the years. Now, fate had orchestrated this moment, bringing him back into her life. Her heart fluttered at the thought of collaborating with him, even though part of her remained uncertain.
But as she let the news sink in, memories from the past flooded her thoughts. The way Arjun had once promised to be there for her, the way he had disappeared from her life without a trace—it still stung. And yet, in the midst of all that pain, Aisha realized something profound. Deep down, she’d never truly let him go. She had tried, of course, moved on with her life, built a career, but her heart had always carried a piece of him. The love she had for him had never faded, even when she pretended it did.
It wasn’t just the surprise of seeing him again—it was the realization that maybe, just maybe, there was more to their story than what had happened before. The past had been messy, full of unsaid words and misunderstandings, but Aisha felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this collaboration, this chance to work with him again, could be the moment where everything was finally set right. She wanted him. More now than ever before. To be honest, she had never stopped wanting him.
No matter what the future held with Arjun, the opportunity to perform in front of such a prestigious audience was something Aisha had worked hard for. It was a chance to showcase herself, her music, and her talent. It was something she had longed for. So, even if the emotions were complicated, she couldn’t deny the excitement she felt.
Aisha smiled softly to herself, making a silent promise to see where this would go. Whatever happened next, she knew this was a moment she couldn’t let slip away. She was ready—for her performance, for whatever was waiting between her and Arjun. This time, she wasn’t going to hold back.
A week later, Aisha found herself on a plane to Mumbai, her nerves a tangled mess. She hadn’t responded to Arjun’s messages since the café, but now she was about to see him again in a professional setting.
When she arrived at the event’s rehearsal hall, Arjun was already there, leaning casually against the piano.
“You’re late,” he teased, though his eyes held something deeper—an apology, perhaps.“
I’m here, aren’t I?” she shot back, refusing to let her guard down.
As they began rehearsing the song together, the tension between them was undeniable. When Arjun stepped closer to adjust her microphone, their hands brushed, sending a spark through her.
“Aisha,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “You have to let me explain.”
“Not now, Arjun,” she whispered, her breath hitching as his gaze lingered on her lips.
But before anything could happen, the director called out, breaking the moment.
That evening, Aisha returned to her hotel room, only to find a handwritten note slipped under her door.
“I’ll wait for you at the terrace tonight. Please give me a chance to tell you the truth. -Arjun”
Aisha stared at the note, her heart pounding. Should she go? Could she risk opening herself up to him again?
As the night deepened, she found herself standing on the terrace, the city lights stretching out before her.
“Arjun?” she called softly.
When he stepped out of the shadows, his expression was unreadable.
“I’m here, Aisha. And I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”
“As the wind carried the fading notes of their unfinished song into the night, Aisha wondered if some stories were meant to be rewritten—or if they were destined to remain the songs they left behind”