Le Chal Tujhko Aisi Jagha

                                    

                                          
October 2021
                          
Third Person P.O.V. 
                          
There was something wrong with his best friend. He didn't know what, but there was definitely something bugging her. 
                          
Now, Varun, like most guys, is kind of oblivious when it comes to most girls and how they think but Alia isn't most girls, she's different, at least for him. He knows her, knows how her brain works, knows her mannerisms and her tones of voice. He can tell when her smile is real and when it's fake, can see through all the masks she wears, can take down her walls when she throws them up. 
                          
So, yeah, he can tell when there's something wrong. 
                          
Try as he might though, he can't get her to tell him what. He's tried a lot of things, from casually slipping it into conversation while they watch a movie to straight up asking her, but she won't give, insists on saying she's fine. 
                          
For a few months, Varun lets it be, as soon as she says she's fine, he would drop the subject. He knows better than to push her; if something is bugging her, Alia would tell him when she was ready. At least he hopes so.
                          
Eventually, after almost seven months of weird behaviour and oddly emotional moments, he slipped up. She was in a weird mood, spending almost every spare moment she had just sitting and staring into space, the look on her face somewhere between reminiscent and wistful. 'Alu, everything okay?' he asks, crouching in front of her. 
                          
'Huh?' she queries, snapping out of her daze and briefly looking at him before her gaze turns to some distant spot.
                          
'Everything okay?' he repeats, a little worried about her absent-mindedness. Alia could daydream with the best of them, but there was something different about the way she was today.  
                          
'Yeah.' she answers, still looking at something over his shoulder, probably seeing something that wasn't actually there. 
                          
'You sure?' he questions. She looks at him fully, giving him a small smile. Varun's not sure why, but he feels almost hurt when she smiles like that. The smile is genuine but her eyes lack the sparkle and warmth that is usually there when she smiles. 
                          
'Yeah.' she says again, getting up from her chair. 
                          
'Alia,' he calls after as she begins to walk away. She turns to look at him, and there's almost no emotion in her eyes and that scares the shit out of him. 'Are you alright?' 
                          
'Varun, I'm fine.' she states, emphasising the word. 
                          
'I know you're fine,' he says, gaze briefly travelling over her to indicate the double meaning and she almost laughs. 'I'm asking if you're okay.' 
                          
He says it like there's a huge difference between the two and she actually does smile, properly this time, and it makes him feel giddy for a moment that she's smiling like this for the first time in months and he's the one that put the grin on her face. 
                          
And then the smile is gone because she's thinking how to answer his question. She understands what the difference is, even if nobody else would have. Fine means she's coping, getting by, putting up a front. Okay means she is genuinely alright. 'No.' she tells him eventually, deciding to be honest. 'No, I'm not okay. I'm really not, Varun.' If it had been anyone else, anyone but Varun, she wouldn't have admitted it. She would have continued to say that everything was fine because anybody else would actually have believed it. Varun doesn't though, she knows he never has. She's been telling him she's fine for months now and he's been accepting it, but he's not believed it once and Alia is well aware of that. 
                          
It doesn't surprise her when he pulls her into a hug, arms wrapping around her securely, protectively. She falls into his embrace without complaint, returning the gesture and, when her arms wind around him, she holds on much tighter than he is, almost clinging to him like her life depends on it, like she never wants to let go.