Piya glanced at Sid's empty desk, her heart sinking with disappointment. The air seemed heavier, her carefully laid plans for revenge slipping through her fingers. Clenching her jaw, she turned to Rayan, who was engrossed in his notes.
"Where's the boss today?" she asked, trying to mask the irritation in her voice.
Rayan looked up, momentarily distracted. "It's Thursday, remember? He's working from the back office today," he said with a nonchalant shrug before returning to his tasks.
Piya bit her thumbnail, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Waiting till tomorrow felt unbearable, but there was nothing she could do. Letting out a quiet sigh, she sank into her chair and pulled the stack of assignments closer. The familiar rhythm of work beckoned her as she focused on the papers, trying to drown her thoughts in the monotony of deadlines and figures. But the sense of unfinished business refused to completely fade, lingering like an unwelcome shadow.
The weight of the day seemed to press down on Sid's shoulders as he flipped through a mountain of files. Pages rustled under his impatient fingers, but the work refused to shrink. His eyes burned from exhaustion, and the familiar ache in his temples reminded him he'd been at it far too long. The thought of leaving early crossed his mind, tempting but impossible. He sighed heavily.
Then, his phone buzzed sharply, breaking the monotony. He reached for it, almost reluctant, and slid his thumb across the screen. Yash's booming voice cut through the air, a refreshing burst of energy amidst Sid's sluggish demeanor. "What's up, bro?"
Sid let out a groan, rubbing his temple as he slouched deeper into his chair. "I'm drowning in work, save me," he muttered, his voice laced with fatigue.
Yash laughed, unbothered by Sid's despair. "Hang in there, man. I've got something planned for you. A surprise after this grind!" There was an infectious excitement in his tone that immediately caught Sid's attention. Despite his tired state, something sparked in his eyes.
"You're serious? What surprise?" Sid asked, straightening up, a glimmer of hope flickering within him.
"Meet me after work. Market near the clock tower. Just trust me." Yash didn't wait for a reply before hanging up, leaving Sid staring at his phone. The location made him pause—something about it felt odd. He frowned, feeling both intrigued and skeptical.
With a resigned shake of his head, he placed the phone back on the desk and returned to the mountain of files. Yash's promise lingered in the air, a small beacon pulling him through the day.
Sid pulled into the market's crowded parking lot, his exhaustion masked by a thin veneer of impatience. Yash was already there, leaning against his car with a smug grin plastered on his face. Sid stepped out, slamming his car door with more force than necessary.
"Why did you call me here, you crazy pig?" Sid grumbled, glaring at his friend.
Yash, unfazed, threw an arm around Sid's shoulders with exaggerated companionship. "My boss gave me this ridiculous task—gather info on old magazines and buy some vintage books," he declared dramatically. "I had to come to this scrap market alone, and then I thought, why suffer alone when my dear friend Sid can join in the misery?"
Sid shot him a withering look, too drained to summon even a hint of amusement. At this point, Sid seriously thought of strangling his friend and disposing of his body somewhere inconspicuous—maybe his own house, for irony's sake.
With a quick jolt, Sid shrugged Yash's arm off, causing him to stumble slightly. "You called me here for this? This stupid errand? I actually thought I'd get to relax tonight," Sid said, his voice dripping with betrayal.
Yash chuckled, unfazed by the murder plots likely brewing in Sid's mind. "Relax, brother. Look around. These streets—we used to come here, remember? Buying second-hand schoolbooks? Eating at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant over there?" He pointed towards a faded sign in the distance.
Sid followed Yash's finger, a flicker of nostalgia softening his scowl. He stood there for a moment, memories bubbling to the surface. Maybe hanging out wouldn't be so bad after all. With a resigned sigh, he muttered, "Fine."
"Now you're getting it!" Yash grinned, already marching towards the market entrance. Sid walked after him, the weight of the day still heavy on his shoulders.
The market was a maze of stores, and Yash, in full scavenger mode, flitted from one to another, his collection of books growing by the minute. Sid, meanwhile, dragged himself along, repeatedly asking, "How much longer?" only to receive vague, dismissive replies.
Finally, Yash led them to a shadowy corner of the street, where the oldest shop loomed. The entrance was so narrow that Sid, with his towering frame, had to duck and contort himself awkwardly to get inside. The shop, however, was deceptively spacious, its towering shelves crammed with dusty treasures.
An elderly shopkeeper shuffled about, retrieving a book Yash had requested. Sid took the opportunity to explore, his eyes skimming the faded titles lining the shelves. The air was thick with dust, and a particularly forceful sneeze erupted from him, echoing like thunder in the quiet space. His sneeze had an unintended consequence—his broad back slammed into a shelf, dislodging a small book that tumbled to the floor with a muffled thud.
Groaning, Sid bent to retrieve the fallen item. The book's cover, vibrant and colorful despite the wear, bore the quote: *Do what you love, love what you do.* As he picked it up, a photograph slipped out, fluttering to the ground like a forgotten secret. Sid snatched it up, his eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.
It was him—a younger, clean-shaven Sid in a school uniform, looking every bit the awkward teenager. No beard, no edge, just a potato-shaped boy staring back at him with a sheepish smile. A smirk tugged at his lips as he thought, *Well, that's a glow-down.*
His amusement quickly gave way to puzzlement. How had his photo ended up here? He flipped through the book, realizing it wasn't just a book—it was a diary. Intrigue sparked in his tired eyes as questions flooded his mind. This was no ordinary errand anymore.
"10 May 2013
Dear Diary,
I saw him again today, he left for his tutions at 4:25 pm. 5 minutes late from his usual time. I wonder how it would feel sitting on the back of his bike. Hugging him tight as he speeds up. Summer vacations are so cruel, i don't get to see him in school.
But good thing is that he plays cricket every evening with his friends in the park. Yash is one i hate the most, he's always covering the view of my cheeku. My cheeku stands right in the front, height like a tower. I feel so tiny in front of him. One day I'll grow as tall as him and beat him in a bike race. "
Sid let out a soft chuckle, his eyes lingering on the pages of the diary. *Who is she? And how does she know me?* The thought crossed his mind with a mix of curiosity and amusement. *Maybe she's just the girl next door.* Shaking his head, he carefully closed the diary, tucking the photograph back inside, and strode purposefully towards the old man behind the counter.
"Uncle, where did you find this?" Sid asked, holding out the diary. The elderly shopkeeper squinted at the book through thick glasses, his expression neutral.
"How would I know?" the man replied with a dismissive wave. "Scrap pickers bring in all sorts of things. This one caught my eye because of the cover, so I bought it. Is it a storybook?"
Sid flipped the diary open, showing the aged handwriting inside. "No, it's a diary—and it belongs to me. Look, this is my photo," he said, holding up the photograph for emphasis.
The old man shrugged, unimpressed. "That may be, but I bought it. If you want it, you'll have to pay for it," he stated flatly.
Sid rolled his eyes, already regretting this exchange. "Fine. How much?" he asked, his tone resigned.
Without missing a beat, the shopkeeper declared, "One thousand rupees."
"One thousand?" Sid shot back, his voice rising in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
The old man didn't flinch. "If you need it, pay. If not, put it back where you found it. Your choice." His tone was calm but unbothered, as if he'd had this conversation a hundred times before.
Muttering under his breath, Sid pulled out two crisp five-hundred-rupee notes and slammed them onto the counter with enough force to rattle the coins in the nearby jar. He grabbed the diary and turned on his heel, stalking out of the shop in a mix of annoyance and haste.
Outside, Yash was pacing near the entrance, a heavy bag full of books slung over his shoulder. His face lit up as he saw Sid approach. "Where were you, man? I've been looking for you!"
Sid waved him off, the diary clutched firmly in his hand. "Since when?" Yash asked, noticing the book and raising an eyebrow.
"Since now. Let's go," Sid replied, throwing his free arm around Yash's neck and pulling him along down the bustling street. Yash stumbled slightly under the weight of his bag, grumbling as he tried to keep up.
"Easy there! I'm carrying half a library here, you know," Yash protested, but Sid just smirked, his thoughts already elsewhere—back to the mysterious diary and the secrets it might hold.
The old restaurant stood unchanged, a relic of their shared past. Its peeling paint and worn wooden tables exuded a familiar charm, despite the air of shabbiness that had only grown over the years. The place was buzzing, packed with voices and laughter, the clatter of plates and glasses forming a symphony of chaos. Sid and Yash found a corner table, squeezed into it, and ordered their favorite platter—a meal etched into their memory from countless youthful visits.
As they waited, Yash studied Sid's face, the tired eyes and furrowed brows impossible to miss. "You look sick, bro. Not enjoying the new office, huh?"
"No," Sid replied, his voice unusually grim. He locked eyes with Yash, leaning forward as if to shield his words from the crowd around them. "Remember Piya? The one I told you about—the girl from the flight?"
Yash's grin was instant. "Oh, you mean the one you kept imagining everywhere?"
"I wasn't imagining her!" Sid snapped, his frustration spilling over. "She's real. Not just real—she's here. In this town. And in my office, of all places! Just seeing her annoys the hell out of me."
Yash burst into laughter, loud and unapologetic, clearly relishing Sid's misery. Sid shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it did little to stifle Yash's amusement.
"Alright, alright," Yash said, wiping at his eyes. "So, what did you do about it?"
Sid leaned back, arms crossed, his lips curling into a triumphant smirk. "I rejected her project. Sent it straight back without a second thought."
"That's what she gets," Yash declared, nodding sagely, "for daring to annoy the most handsome man in the office." His exaggerated tone sent them both into peals of laughter, their excitement cutting through the tension of the long day.
Later, Sid stumbled into his house, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. He kicked off his shoes, leaving his belongings scattered haphazardly on the couch. Changing into his pajamas with barely a thought, he collapsed onto his bed, the mattress welcoming him like an old friend. Within moments, the world faded, leaving only the hum of the day's memories to linger in the silence.