The last leaf finally took its path to the ground.

And with it, something in me fell too — quietly, almost respectfully.

Like it knew I was already broken.

My name is Adarsh gupta . Seventeen years of being... good.

Good son. Good boy. Good friend.

Too good, maybe.

And somewhere along the way, the world stopped being good to me.

My parents no longer listened to me.

My friends vanished into the noise of their own lives.

Even my brother, once my partner in mischief and midnight talks, became a stranger behind a locked door.

I was left in the silence.

Heavy. Unforgiving. Endless.

One night, drowning in loneliness, I downloaded an old app—Chit Chat.

The home of strangers.

Of maybe.

Of "what if someone out there understands?"

Thirty-two minutes later, I matched with someone.

Kunal.

That name felt familiar.

And when I clicked on his profile, a tiny spark danced in my chest.

We had talked before—months ago.

He had disappeared then, like everyone else.

But now... he was back.

And for the first time in a long while, something inside me whispered, "Maybe this time... someone stays."

"Hey...,” I typed, nervous.

"Hey," he replied almost instantly. "You found me again?"

I smiled. A real one. Small, but real.

Kunal wasn’t loud or overly affectionate.

He wasn’t texting every second.

But he was there.

Honest. Gentle. Curious.

He never ignored me. He just responded in his own rhythm — soft, human, natural.

And even when our conversations were short, they carried a quiet warmth.

"What should I call you?" he asked one

Adarsh. But... call me whatever you like."

"Hmm. I’ll call you crazy boi. Or maybe... stupid fellow 😂l."

I laughed out loud at that. He didn’t know it, but he had just stitched a tiny patch over a bleeding part of me.

From that day, I called him Kuku.

A soft, silly name only I used.

A name that made my chest feel less hollow.

But the truth is... the ache is never fully left.

Even while talking to him, I felt this creeping shadow in my chest — a voice that said, "He doesn’t see the whole you. He won’t stay either."

That voice made me do something I now regret.

Something that started as a joke, a harmless test.

Something that became slow unraveling.

I created another account.

Arsh.

Just a name. Just a mask.

Just me... pretending to be someone else.

I added Kunal from it, curious, maybe even desperate.

He accepted Immediately.

"Do you remember me?" I asked, my fingers trembling slightly as I typed from the Arsh account.

"Of course I do," Kunal replied instantly.

My breath caught.

A tiny gasp escaped my lips.

He remembers...?

But... remember who?

My heart beats louder, faster, as if trying to punch through my chest.

Excited.

Terrified.

I continued chatting, my words playful, teasing him like a mischievous shadow.

But as our conversation stretched,

a strange realization dawned on me.

He thought Arsh was someone else.

Someone he already knew.

Someone real.

Maybe a memory from somewhere I didn’t know.

Still, I played along, smiling into my phone like a little thief stealing moments that weren’t truly mine.

"Yrr dude," I typed, my fingers dancing over the keys, "I met someone... he was so cute and mature. At the age of seventeen!!!"

I pressed send, my lips curving into a bittersweet smile.

Cute.

Mature.

Seventeen.

I was talking about myself, without even saying it.

Suddenly, a message popped on my real account—Adarsh's!

Ping!

Kunal.

"Hey... do you know Arsh?" he asked.

My throat dried instantly.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to steady my shaking fingers. "But... how do you know him?"

There was a pause.

I could almost feel him smiling through the screen.

"Sixth sense," he finally wrote.

And then:

"Also, I needed someone to talk to. He’s Arsh... that same guy."

The screen blurred before my eyes.

Not from sadness.

Not from happiness.

But from the sheer weight of everything unsaid between the lines.

In that moment, it wasn’t about right or wrong.

It wasn’t about lies or truths.

I wanted to say the truth.!!

But I waited and talk a bit more but something happened which changed me a lot what do u think so I need to carry on?

The evenings had taken a lighter hue these days.

Arsh and Kunal had grown closer — exchanging jokes, teasing each other like old friends who had fought a hundred battles side by side.

But under every playful text Adarsh sent from the fake account, there was a growing uneasiness, a lump in his throat he couldn't swallow.

One evening, Kunal messaged:

Kunal: "Yaar, I'm just checking... Arsh seems nice na? I mean, for you, Adarsh. You deserve someone good."

Adarsh stared at the message, a tight knot forming in his chest.

He forced a smile and replied casually.

Adarsh (as Arsh): "Haha, bro! Of course, I'm nice!"

But Kunal wasn’t satisfied.

He decided to test Arsh a little more —

not to hurt, but to protect Adarsh from a wrong person.

Kunal: "If we ever meet, I’ll give you a hug so tight, you won't be able to breathe."

Arsh: "Haha... can't wait, bro!"

Kunal: "And who knows... maybe even steal a kiss if you’re too cute."

Adarsh’s heart raced, his fingers trembling.

He laughed it off again —

not knowing whether to be scared or hurt.

Later, Kunal messaged Adarsh separately:

Kunal: "Bro, seriously... I flirted a little and Arsh was kinda... stupid about it. He didn't seem serious enough. Not your type. You deserve someone better, mature. Trust me."

Adarsh chuckled, his smile bitter, broken.

He nodded even though Kunal couldn’t see it.

Kunal: "Pagal hai yaar Arsh. Full bewakoof. You need someone who understands you deeply, Adarsh."

Adarsh: "True bro, true."

He laughed along with Kunal’s jokes,

even as his heart quietly cracked under the weight of truth.

For a while, everything stayed easy, smooth.

The world outside their chats felt lighter.

Until, without thinking much, Adarsh dropped the bomb, almost casually.

Adarsh: "Kunal... Arsh was me."

There was a long, painful pause.

The typing dots blinked... disappeared... blinked again.

Kunal: "Stop joking, idiot."

Adarsh: "I'm not joking..."

Silence.

Adarsh attached the screenshots —

cold proof of a warm lie.

Minutes passed.

Then, finally, Kunal replied.

Kunal: "You made a fool out of me."

Kunal: "I was trying to find someone who would love you truly, bro. I tested Arsh to protect you. I was fighting for your happiness. And you..."

Kunal: "You turned it into a joke. You broke the one friendship that would've stayed for life."

Kunal: "You lost a true friend tonight."

Each word hit Adarsh like a slap across his soul.

He wanted to scream, to explain, to apologize —

but nothing he could say would glue the broken pieces back.

Kunal: "Goodbye, Adarsh."

And then —

Blocked.

Just like that.

No more typing dots.

No more 'Kunal is online'.

No more anything.

Adarsh stared at the screen.

Eyes wide.

Breath shallow.

He sat there in the dark, holding his phone like it could somehow bring back the boy who had once called him his best friend.

The room felt smaller now.

The walls are closing in.

He tried smiling —

because that's what you do when you have no right to cry.

But even his smile betrayed him, trembling, broken

And sometimes, the saddest goodbyes... are the ones you cause yourself.

It had been hours.

Adarsh hadn’t moved from the edge of his bed. The room was dim, the fan spinning slowly above, like time itself was mocking him — unhurried, uncaring.

His phone lay face-up beside him, the screen black, cold. Yet he stared at it like it might come to life. Like Kunal might return. Like a message might blink:

"Hey, I’m still here."

But nothing came.

He picked it up again. Unlocked. Scrolled.

Chat with Kuku.

Last seen: Yesterday 11:54 PM.

He clicked it.

There they were — their chats. The memes, the one-word replies, the teasing, the laughter. It all felt like a different lifetime. He paused at one message from Kunal:

"If ever anything happens to you, tell me first. You’re my idiot."

A smile tugged at the corner of Adarsh’s lips, shaky and broken.

"I'm still your idiot," he whispered into the stillness, voice almost a breath.

"But you’re not mine anymore…"

The smile faded as fast as it came.

The walls felt tighter. The silence louder.

Without thinking, he slipped into his slippers, grabbed his hoodie, and stepped outside.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just walked. One street. Then another. Then another. His mind was blank. No music. No thoughts. Just footsteps, dragging like his heart.

At some point, the sky changed. From orange to grey to ink. The lights blurred. The road never ended.

Five kilometers.

That’s how far he went without realizing it.

He stood near an old tea stall. The man behind it looked at him — a little concerned, a little curious.

“You okay, beta?” he asked.

Adarsh blinked. His lips parted. No words came.

He turned and started walking back.

When he reached home, the lights were on. His mother was pacing the balcony. His father at the door, arms crossed.

“Where were you!?”

“Do you even care what time it is!?”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

He brushed past them, locked his room, and sat on the floor. Hands in his hair. Knees drawn in.

The world was spinning too fast.

He didn’t eat.

He didn’t sleep.

His pillow was soaked by morning, but not from sweat.

From everything he couldn’t say.

From everything he wanted to scream.

From the truth that he had lost Kunal.

The one person who saw him in every version — Adarsh and Arsh — and still chose to walk away.

"You lost a true friend."

"I was trying to find someone who deserves you."

"You made a fool out of me, Adarsh."

Those words rang like slaps in Adarsh’s mind, over and over. They didn’t echo — they screamed.

He pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his face in the space between, and let it come.

The tears. The silent sobs. The breaking of something that had never been whole to begin with.

Ping.

He froze.

The phone lit up. A message. Not from Kunal.

A new account.

No profile photo. Just a name he didn’t recognize.

"Hey… I heard your name somewhere. You okay?"

He stared.

Who was this?

Why now?

He opened the chat.

Typing… stopped.

Typing again.

Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt. Just talk. Only if you want to.