Bittersweet
Aaditya stepped out of the cab, the dry leaves crunching beneath his feet. He had just reached Ananya’s house after nearly a year away, summoned for a family get-together. The air was warm with nostalgia. He walked toward the familiar silver car parked under the gulmohar tree and noticed her mother struggling with the boot, shifting bags and boxes around. “Let me help you with that, aunty,” he said, stepping forward. “Oh Aaditya, you’re back! How tall you’ve grown!” she chuckled, wiping her forehead. The boot was barely visible under the mess of bags and gift boxes, when suddenly—like the sun peeking through clouds—Ananya popped up from the other side of the car, her hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing an old T-shirt that said ‘Not Today, Satan’. Their eyes locked for a moment longer than needed. “Aadi! You look like a grown-up now!” she teased, hands on her hips. “You still look like you steal puppies,” he grinned. They spent the next ten minutes laughing about everything and nothing...