The Ghosts We Carry

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Aashna stepped into her apartment, greeted by the familiar warmth of home. The scent of freshly cooked dinner lingered in the air, and the faint chatter of the television buzzed from the living room. Kicking off her shoes, she let out a deep sigh, exhaustion settling into her bones.

Shadow, her German Shepherd, came bounding toward her, his tail wagging excitedly. She bent down, ruffling his thick fur as he licked her cheek

“Missed me, bud?” she murmured, pressing her forehead against his.

Her mother peeked out from the kitchen, hands dusted with flour. “Tu aalis? Jhopnar ahes ki jevnar aaj?” (You’re home? Are you planning to sleep or eat tonight?)

Aashna rolled her eyes playfully. “Aai, I’m starving.” She walked into the kitchen, grabbing a steel glass of water before slumping onto a chair.

Her father, seated at the dining table with the newspaper in hand, glanced at her. “Kiti vela late yete? Time management shikha thoda.” (How many times will you come home late? Learn some time management.)

“Baba, it was just a normal day at college,” she replied, biting back a sigh.

Her little brother, Aryan, looked up from his plate, grinning. “A normal day that made you look like someone stole your favorite book?”

She flicked a piece of roti at him. “Shut up.”

Dinner was the usual mix of casual conversation and gentle scolding from her parents about her eating habits, college work, and her future. But through it all, her mind kept drifting. Two weeks… and then today. That fleeting moment near the badminton court, the way Dhruvin had looked at her—as if seeing her for the first time—sent a strange, unwelcome feeling through her.

She quickly shoved those thoughts aside.

After dinner, she retreated to her bedroom, her sanctuary. The small space she shared with Aryan was lined with bookshelves overflowing with novels, the only company she ever needed. She curled up on her bed, flipping through the pages of her latest read, but the words blurred together.

A soft knock at the door made her look up. Aryan stepped inside, his usual mischievous grin replaced by something softer. “Didi, kya ho raha hai? You’ve been acting weird for days.”

Aashna hesitated. Aryan was just in ninth grade, but sometimes, he understood her better than anyone else. Letting out a long breath, she closed her book. “Do you remember Dhruvin Deshmukh?”

Aryan’s brows knitted together. “Dhruvin… the name sounds familiar.” Then, realization dawned in his eyes. “Wait, wasn’t he your senior in school?”

She nodded slowly, gripping the book in her lap. “Yes. And his best friend back then was Nishant.”

Aryan's face darkened. “That guy who—”

“Yes.” Aashna’s voice was tight. “Nishant was the one who bullied me. Every day. He humiliated me, made fun of me in front of the whole school. He spread rumors, made me feel like I was nothing.” Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to continue. “He made my life a living hell. And you know what hurt the most?” She looked up at Aryan, her voice barely a whisper. “Dhruvin never did anything. He just stood there, watched, and let it happen.”

Aryan was silent, fists clenched. “And now he’s in your college?”

She nodded. “I ran into him a few weeks ago. And today, I saw him again. And for some stupid reason, he looked at me like I was some mystery he wanted to solve.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “He might have changed, Aryan, but I don’t care. Because all I see when I look at him is Nishant. I see everything I went through.”

Aryan swallowed hard. “Does he remember?”

“I don’t think so.” She let out a bitter laugh. “It wasn’t a big deal for him, right? Just another school memory. But for me? I still have panic attacks, Aryan. I still get anxious when people laugh behind my back. That’s why I keep my distance. That’s why I stick to my books and my small circle.”

Aryan sat beside her, placing a comforting hand on hers. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Didi. You do whatever makes you feel safe. But if that guy ever hurts you again, just tell me. I’ll break his face.”

She let out a small, genuine laugh, ruffling his hair. “You and your ninth-standard strength?”

“Hey, I’ve been working out.” He flexed his tiny arms, making her chuckle.

For the first time that evening, she felt a little lighter. But as Aryan left the room, she lay back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling.

Dhruvin Deshmukh.

The boy who had been a silent bystander to her worst years.

And now, the man who looked at her like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

She wasn’t going to let him get anywhere close.

❤️❤️❤️

Author’s Note

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