Chapter 15 – What the Heart Remembers
There are memories your mind forgets.
And then there are memories your heart holds on to—quietly, endlessly, like a secret it refuses to give up.
This was one of those.
—
Two weeks had passed since that night beneath the stars.
And yet, every time Mehar closed her eyes, she could still feel Aarav's arms around her.
Still hear his promises echoing in the silence.
Still taste the moment like it had just happened.
But reality, as always, had its own rhythm.
Exams were approaching. Schedules were packed. Deadlines loomed.
And they were both trying—desperately—to find time in between everything.
Love, when it's new, is easy to get lost in.
But staying in love? That's where the fight begins.
—
That morning, they hadn't spoken.
Aarav had left early for practice. Mehar had back-to-back classes and a presentation to prepare.
By afternoon, her mood had already started slipping. A group project had gone wrong. One of her teachers had been unnecessarily harsh. She hadn't eaten. And worst of all—she missed him.
She hated that.
How much she needed him just to feel okay.
—
At 5:27 PM, her phone buzzed.
Aarav: Come to the rooftop. Now.
She didn't respond. Just gathered her things and climbed the four floors.
When she reached, the sunset hit her first—brushed gold and orange across the concrete.
Then she saw him.
He was sitting cross-legged on the ledge, two iced coffees beside him, and a notebook in his lap.
"I thought you forgot about me," she murmured, walking over.
He looked up, eyes tired but smiling. "I could never."
She sat beside him, letting the silence settle between them like a soft blanket.
"What's in the notebook?" she asked after a minute.
He hesitated. Then handed it over.
Her name was written on the cover.
Inside—pages and pages of tiny moments.
Things she had said. Things she had worn. Doodles of her smile. A list titled "Things to say when she feels small." A section of her favorite songs. Notes from the night of their first walk. A page that read: I loved her when she was loud. I loved her more when she was quiet.
Her eyes stung.
"Aarav... when did you...?"
"Since the beginning," he said. "I started writing the day I realized you weren't going to be just someone I liked."
Mehar shut the notebook gently. Her heart wasn't just full—it was overflowing.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you," she whispered.
He looked at her, serious now. "You existed. That's all you had to do."
—
Later, as they sat side by side, watching the last bit of daylight fade, she rested her head on his shoulder.
And in that stillness, they both understood something unspoken:
Love doesn't always shout.
Sometimes, it scribbles itself into pages.
Sometimes, it shows up with cold coffee and quiet corners.
Sometimes, it waits on rooftops just to remind you—you are not forgotten.
—