The day had been pretty ordinary, just classes, and some usual campus chaos. It was one of those days where everything felt like it was running smoothly—until it wasn't.
I had gifted Maddy the black bottle a week ago. A small, quirky gift, but one that carried meaning. He had this habit of reminding me to drink more water. Every time we hung out, he'd throw in a playful nudge, "Diya, drink some water. Hydrate, or you'll turn into a raisin."
The bottle was a joke—an inside joke, really. It had "Maddy" printed on it in bold, sleek font, just below the cap. The black bottle wasn't just a bottle—it was a symbol of our little exchanges. A reminder of him always telling me to drink water, of him caring about the small things.
But when he told me that he lost it, I froze.
We were sitting in the cafeteria during lunch when it happened.
"I... uh, Diya?" Maddy's voice cracked slightly. "I've got to tell you something."
My stomach sank. "What happened?"
He bit his lip, looking anywhere but at me. "I lost the bottle you gave me. On the train back last week. I... I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you. I thought you'd be upset."
A tight knot formed in my chest. That bottle wasn't just a bottle—it was a symbol. A reminder of his constant teasing, his care, his little ways of looking out for me. It was a part of us.
For a moment, I didn't know what to say. The silence between us grew heavier.
"Diya?" he asked, nervously.
I bit my lip, trying to swallow down the sudden rush of disappointment. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
His eyes dropped. "I didn't know how to. I thought you'd be mad. You always put so much thought into things, and I just... I didn't want to disappoint you."
I felt a pang in my chest, but my voice came out sharper than I intended. "I'm not mad, Maddy. Just… disappointed."
I stared at the table, picking at the crumbs of my sandwich. It wasn't just about the bottle. It was the fact that he felt the need to hide something from me. That made the air between us feel colder.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Diya," he said softly. "I swear. I didn't think it would matter so much."
I looked up at him, trying to steady my emotions. "It does matter, Maddy. It's not just about the bottle. It's about being honest."
He nodded, his expression softening. "I get it. I really do. And I'm sorry."
I didn't say anything else. The rest of the lunch passed in silence, a quiet tension sitting between us. I wanted to shake it off, but I couldn't. That small, thoughtful gesture felt like it had been taken away, and I couldn't help but feel a little... lost.
That night, when I returned to my room, I couldn't stop thinking about the bottle. I needed something to fix it, even if I didn't know how to fix us.
Without telling Maddy, I went online and found the exact same black bottle. I ordered it with "Maddy" printed on it just like before, hoping it would carry some of the old meaning, even if it couldn't replace the memories attached to the first one.
But the decision left me feeling torn. It wasn't about the bottle anymore. It was about the unspoken gap that had widened between us. The uncertainty, the small fears we kept from each other.
And yet, here I was—ordering a new bottle, hoping it would fill the emptiness left by the first.
Would it help? I didn't know. But I couldn't let go of the memory.