The lights of the banquet hall shimmered like a hundred restless stars, caught and suspended in chandeliers above. Aisha Banerjee stepped inside, a few minutes late, her soft lavender dress swaying just below her knees. Her mother had insisted — not flashy, but presentable, grown-up. A silver pendant rested against her collarbone, earrings catching the faint glimmer, and a simple purse hung at her side. She felt every pair of eyes might be watching, though most were too lost in chatter and laughter to notice. It's been years... why does my heart feel like a bird beating against a cage? Her sandals clicked softly against the marble floor as she made her way through the crowd. Old classmates turned at the sound of her name, and greetings bloomed like small, familiar flowers. Arre, Aisha! You look so different now! You've gotten prettier, yaar, not at all the same shy girl from classes. She smiled, polite, but her hands trembled slightly on her purse. Every compliment felt like a poem that had lost its rhythm — sweet, but not the line she had been waiting for. And then she saw him. Rohit Sen. Tall, easy smile, the same casual charm that had haunted her thoughts long after college ended. He laughed with a group near the drinks table, his voice carrying above the din like the opening line of a song she still remembered by heart. There you are... all these years, and still, you shine like I always believed. Summoning a courage she didn't quite believe belonged to her, Aisha stepped closer. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. Rohit... hi. Do you... remember me? His eyes flicked toward her, a brief pause before that practiced grin curved his lips. Aisha, right? Of course. You've changed a lot. Can't believe it's been... what, four years? Her breath caught. He remembered. Even if the memory felt faint, like a page half-folded, it was enough for her to cling to. They exchanged a few words — polite, shallow ripples on a deep river she longed to dive into. She felt the weight of her pulse, the lines of poetry unspoken in her chest, and then dared what she had never dared before. Could we... talk somewhere quieter? Just us? For a moment, he seemed amused. But then, shrugging lightly, he followed her lead as she guided him toward a quieter corner, away from the golden flood of voices and laughter. The hall dimmed around them, until it felt like a world reduced to two silhouettes standing apart from the crowd. Please... let this be the night where my words finally find their meaning. The music from the banquet faded into a dull hum as Aisha and Rohit stood in the quiet corner. A faint light from a half-closed window cut across the floor, catching the lavender of her dress in its glow. Her hands twisted together, restless, and every heartbeat felt like a drum of war inside her chest. Rohit... I... I've always admired you. Since college. You probably never noticed, but— Her voice trembled, but the words spilled like ink from a pen that had long been waiting to write. She swallowed, gathering courage. I liked you. Truly. And even now, after all this time... I still feel the same. For a moment, silence. Then Rohit sighed, leaning casually against the wall, eyes half-lidded as if she had asked him about the weather. Aisha... you're sweet. Really. But relationships? They feel like cages to me. I don't want to be tied down. I want to enjoy my youth, yaar. Live freely. The words crashed through her chest. A cage. Her? A cage to him? Was that what love meant in his eyes — chains, burden, adjustment, compromise? Her breath quivered, and her eyes burned hot. Quietly, tears began to slip down, tracing delicate lines over her cheeks. I was never meant to be a song in his heart... only silence between his laughter. Rohit shifted then, his tone softening, his smile curling with practiced ease. He reached out, brushing her tears away with a finger. His voice lowered, coaxing like honey poured over thorns. Arre, don't cry. Look at you... do you know how beautiful you are right now? How many guys here must be jealous I'm the one talking to you? Her chest ached, but his words wove around her like threads of silver. He leaned closer, murmuring with warmth that felt real, even if it wasn't. You're not a cage, Aisha. You're... special. Someone I could never forget. You make me feel things others don't. Every line was a spark thrown into the dry paper of her heart, feeding a fire she had long kept hidden. The more he spoke, the more she wanted to believe. To feel wanted. To feel like she mattered. His hands, his closeness, the way his eyes locked into hers — it was all too much, too sudden, and yet she surrendered. Because he made it sound like love, even when it wasn't. The room became a fragile glass bubble, a world reduced to warmth, whispers, and trembling hands. Innocence, like a flower pressed too roughly, was crushed in the moment. She gave herself not to love, but to the promise of it — and when it was over, the silence was louder than any rejection could ever be. Rohit pulled away almost instantly, adjusting his shirt with careless ease. His smile was already fading into disinterest. He glanced at his phone, muttered something about catching up with friends, and within a minute, the door clicked shut behind him. The air was empty. The room, stripped of its fragile illusion, felt colder than before. Aisha remained still, her dress slightly wrinkled, her pendant heavy against her skin as though it bore witness to her naivety. Her tears returned, softer now, tracing lines of shame and sorrow. She wrapped her arms around herself, whispering to the silence: Was I only ever meant to be... forgotten?