“Some wounds didn’t bleed — they echoed.”

The sunlight slanted through the curtains, casting soft golden stripes on the floor. Sia sat curled up on the edge of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her phone held tightly in her hand. There was a hollowness in her chest — one she couldn't explain. It wasn’t the silence. It was the emptiness. She didn’t want to be alone. After staring at her screen for several minutes, she finally opened her contacts — just one number saved from earlier that morning. She pressed call.

On the other side, the newsroom buzzed around Amaya — phones ringing, journalists discussing headlines, the typing of a hundred stories echoing like background music.

Amaya’s phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

Silence. Then a soft, unsure voice. “Amaya… it’s me.”

She froze for a beat, confused. “Who?”

“Jhanvi…”

The voice was barely above a whisper, but Amaya’s breath hitched. She stood up from her desk, her chair skidding back slightly. “Jhanvi?” she repeated, still processing.
Her voice warmed instantly. “Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me you had this number? I was literally thinking about you—”

Sia gave a small laugh, the first real sound of comfort in hours. “I just… I wanted to see you.”
There was a pause. “I didn’t want to be alone today.” Amaya’s expression softened.

“Good,” she said quietly. “Because I wanted to talk to you too.” Her thoughts drifted — unintentionally — to earlier that day.

FLASHBACK — A Few Hours Earlier: News Office

Amaya was hunched over her laptop, finishing edits on an article, when her phone lit up.

Harsh calling. She answered casually, sipping her cold coffee. “Hello?”

His voice was strangely… restless. Excited?

“Janu aayi thi.”

She choked on her sip. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harsh went silent for a second. Then coughed awkwardly. “I mean — Sia aayi thi. Not Janu. That’s what you kept calling her yesterday, and… it just slipped out.”

Amaya raised an eyebrow, amused now wondering why harsh is calling Jhanvi as Sia, but anyways continued talking to him.
“Wow. You’re slipping up already, lover boy Hershey”

Harsh groaned. “No. Stop. I just— I meant, Sia came to meet you. But you weren’t home. I was leaving for work. Urrgghh, you are so annoying Amu. Bye.” She didn’t say it out loud, but inside — her mind did pause.

Sia?
The name suddenly held more weight than any other word.

BACK TO PRESENT — News Office

Amaya blinked out of the memory, still holding the phone to her ear.

“I’m off in an hour,” she said gently. “Why don’t we meet at the café? You, me, chai”

On the other end, Sia hesitated for just a second, then said softly: “I work at a café nearby… I’m texting you the address.”

A notification popped up instantly on Amaya’s screen. Sia followed up, her voice just as quiet, “Come if you can. No pressure.”

Amaya read the location, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Of course I’m coming, idiot.”
She paused. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

Sia didn’t answer right away — but that silence felt like a smile. “See you soon, then.”

“Yeah,” Amaya replied, grabbing her bag and glancing at the clock. “See you, Janu.”

Late afternoon — warm sun filters through the café windows. The soft clink of cutlery, the low hum of chatter, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine fill the air. Sia had her hair tied in a messy bun, sleeves rolled up, as she wiped down a table. She looked a little tired — but more than that, she looked alone.

The bell over the café door chimed softly. She didn’t turn at first — distracted by a spill. But then… A voice, soft and familiar, floated toward her. “Excuse me… is there anything on the menu for old best friends who were practically sisters?”

Sia froze.

Her heart stopped for a full second. She turned around — slowly — almost like she was afraid it might be a dream.

There, standing just a few steps away, wearing the same crooked smile and mischief in her eyes, was Amaya.

Sia didn’t think.

She ran.

Across the small space. Past the coffee machine. Past the rows of chairs. And right into Amaya’s arms. Tightly. Silently. Wholeheartedly.

Amaya wrapped her arms around her just as tight — burying her face into Sia’s shoulder. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

It was a hug that said,
“I missed you.”
“I needed you.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”
And most of all —
“I never stopped loving you.”

Sia whispered shakily, “You really came.”

Amaya swallowed the lump in her throat. “Of course I came, stupid. You called.”
She leaned back a little to look at her face. “You look… the same. But stronger. Different, somehow. Like you’ve been carrying too much alone.”

Before Sia could answer, Swara appeared from behind the counter — concern written all over her face. “Everything okay, Sia?” she asked gently, then glanced at the stranger.

Sia quickly pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and trying to compose herself. “Swara aunty…” she said with a smile that was soft and a little embarrassed,
“This is… Amaya. My best friend. My sister. From before.” Swara’s expression immediately softened.

“Ah, that Amaya,” she said knowingly. She walked over and patted Amaya’s arm gently, “She talked about you even when she said she didn’t want to talk about the past.”

Amaya smiled back warmly. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

Swara nodded. “She’s like my own. You both sit — I’ll bring something sweet. This moment deserves it.” As Swara walked off, the two girls finally sat at the corner table by the window. Quiet for a second — just… soaking each other in.

Amaya looked around and then back at her friend. “It’s a nice café,” she said.

Sia exhaled, still a little overwhelmed. “It’s not just a café. It’s… the first place that felt like home again.” Amaya reached out, taking her hand across the table. “Then I’m glad I’m here.”

They didn’t need many words after that. Sometimes, after years apart… just being there is enough.

After a while, Amaya stirred her coffee absentmindedly, watching Sia. Her gaze softened — trying to memorize the face she had once known like her own reflection. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said:
“Sia?…”

Sia looked up sharply.

Amaya blinked.
“Sorry — I mean… Jhanvi?”
She tilted her head a little. “Or should I say… both?”

Sia’s shoulders stiffened for just a second. Like someone had yanked a curtain off something she'd been hiding. She forced a breath out. Then gave a small smile — one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s Sia now. Just Sia.”

Amaya leaned back a little, studying her.
“Why? What are you running from?”

Sia looked down at her cup. The coffee had gone cold. After a pause, she said, “Sometimes… you have to burn old names to survive. Jhanvi didn’t make it out. Sia did.” Amaya was quiet for a moment. Watching her. Really watching her.

And then —
“So that’s it?” she asked, voice low. “You’ll sit here across from me, drink this coffee, smile like a stranger… and pretend we didn’t share our childhood?”

Sia didn’t answer.

Amaya leaned in slightly, her tone sharper now — laced with hurt. “Have I become that distant to you, Jhanvi… sorry — Sia — that you can’t even tell me what’s going on in your life? Not even your pain?” Sia’s eyes flicked up. The words stung. Because they were true.

Amaya exhaled. “Did you really make me that distant?”
She laughed again bitterly. “Wow. So this is what we’ve become?”

Sia opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her throat tightened. “It’s not that simple.” she finally said. “Then make it simple. Talk to me.” Amaya said, softer this time.
“I’m not asking for your secrets, Jhanvi. I’m asking for your truth. The one you’ve been carrying like a stone in your chest.”

Sia blinked. Hard. Once.

“If I open that door…” she whispered, “…I’m scared I won’t be able to shut it again.”

“Then don’t shut it,” Amaya replied gently.
“I’m here. Let it all out. If it hurts… I’ll hurt with you.”

Sia looked down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.

“You’ll hate me,” she said softly.
“If I tell you everything… you’ll look at me differently.”

Amaya reached over the table and held her hand. “No, I’ll look at you like I always have. Like you’re my person. You were… you are. And no amount of distance or silence can change that.”

Sia’s lips trembled. The walls she had spent years building around herself — brick by painful brick — began to crack. “Mayu…” she whispered. Amaya nodded. Encouraging her to go on. But didn’t push.

Sia wiped a tear that slipped silently down her cheek. “I’ll tell you everything… but not here. Let’s go to my room.” They walked together through the back of the café — Swara gave them a knowing glance but didn’t say anything. She simply smiled gently, as if understanding the gravity of what was unfolding.

The staircase creaked softly under their feet. The corridor above was narrow, lined with pale yellow walls. At the very end was a small door — chipped paint, brass handle. Sia unlocked it.
“It’s not much,” she murmured, “but… it’s mine.” She opened the door, letting Amaya step in first. It was a small room. Simple. A single bed pushed to the side, soft white sheets neatly tucked in. A desk littered with books, a lamp, a half-burned candle. Near the window sat a tiny plant — wilting just a little, but still alive. Like hope that hadn’t given up yet.

Amaya turned slowly, taking it in.
“You live here?” Sia nodded. “Since the past few months.”

Amaya’s expression softened. “It’s… quiet. Peaceful.”

Sia gave a faint smile. “It’s the only place I’ve felt even remotely safe in a long time.”

They sat on the edge of the bed, silence hanging between them again — not awkward, but heavy. Amaya glanced at her sideways. “So?” Sia stared at her hands. “So what?”

“Where do we begin?” Sia drew in a deep breath.
“With the night everything changed.”

_______

NEXT FEW CHAPTERS ARE GOING TO BE BASED COMPLETELY ON SIA’S PAST.