The sky turned orange by the time we left the tea shop. We walked in silence, shoulder to shoulder, our steps almost in sync without trying. The kind of silence that didn't ache anymore — just filled the air gently, like something familiar returning.
Hari didn't ask where I'd been.
I didn't ask why he never sent the letter.
Somehow, we both knew the answers weren't as important as the moment itself.
We ended up by the river — our old hideout. It wasn't much, just a cement bench half-covered by a leaning banyan tree, with vines that tried to braid the bench into the earth. We had carved our names into it once. H + K. No hearts, just a lightning bolt between the letters. As if we thought our friendship was electric, untouchable.
He dusted it off, sat on one side. I took the other.
"You remember when we built that stupid raft?" he asked suddenly.
I laughed. "And it sank five minutes in."
"You blamed me for using cardboard."
"You did use cardboard."
"I was testing material properties," he said with mock seriousness.
We laughed. Really laughed this time.
The kind of laugh that reminded me we had once known how to be happy without needing a reason.
The sun slipped behind the trees slowly, the golden light spilling across the river like a secret. In that fading warmth, I felt time loosen its grip. The weight of years, regrets, and misunderstandings cracked just enough to breathe.
Then Hari's voice dropped, quiet.
"My dad's job transfer came yesterday. We're leaving next week."
I turned sharply. "What?"
"Chennai. New school, new everything."
I stared at him. "Why didn't you say anything?"
He shrugged, eyes still on the water. "Didn't seem like you'd care."
The words hit harder than they should have. Because I had stopped showing I cared. And now it felt like I was trying to rebuild a house while the storm was already moving in.
"But I'm here now," I said.
He looked at me. "Yeah. You are."
A pause. The river kept flowing.
"Can we just… be normal again for this one week?" I asked. "Like old times?"
Hari nodded, slowly. "Yeah. One last adventure."
And there it was.
A second chance.
Not to fix everything perfectly — but to hold onto something before it was gone.
We didn't know what the next seven days would bring.
But for now, we sat on that old bench, watching the river carry the past away, ready to begin the last chapter of a friendship we both still believed in.