C28 The Pages She Never Meant Anyone to Read
Night had settled quietly over the small mountain town.
Outside, the wind moved softly through the pine trees, carrying the cold scent of the hills. The apartment lights were warm, casting long gentle shadows across the room.
Benji had finally gone to her room after hours of hovering around Aisha like an overprotective guard dog. But not before giving Arjun one last warning look that clearly meant I’m still watching you.
The apartment was quiet now.
Aisha looked exhausted.
The kind of exhaustion that didn’t just come from a long day — but from everything that had happened.
“You should sleep,” Arjun said quietly.
She nodded.
“I will… just one call first.”
She climbed onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, pulling the blanket loosely around her waist. Her messy bun had already started falling apart, loose strands of hair escaping around her face.
The dark circles under her eyes were clearer in the warm yellow lamp light.
Yet somehow… she still looked soft. Alive.
She pressed the phone to her ear.
“Hello?”
Then her voice brightened immediately.
“Golu!”
Arjun moved quietly toward the small desk near the window.
If he was staying awake guarding the apartment tonight, he needed somewhere to sit.
The desk was cluttered.
Medical textbooks.
Dental notes.
A stethoscope lying sideways.
Prescription pads.
And a thick notebook lying half open.
Behind him Aisha continued talking.
“Arre relax, Ish is fine,” she said lightly.
A worried male voice crackled faintly from the phone speaker.
“Ish, you disappeared for a whole day! Benji called me in panic.”
“I know,” she laughed softly. “It was just… a long story.”
“I don’t like ‘long story,’” Golu said seriously.
“You work alone in villages, Ish. You need to be careful.”
“I am careful.”
“Clearly not careful enough.”
She sighed dramatically.
“You sound like my father.”
“Good,” he replied. “Someone has to.”
Then his tone softened.
“You’re strong, Ish. But strong people still need to protect themselves.”
She smiled faintly.
“I know.”
Arjun sat down at the desk quietly.
His eyes moved across the surface absentmindedly.
Then paused.
The notebook.
The page that was open wasn’t medical notes.
It was handwriting.
Flowing.
Careful.
He glanced toward Aisha.
She was still on the phone, completely absorbed in the conversation.
Curiosity pulled at him.
He slid the notebook slightly closer.
The words were written in Roman Urdu.
But the feeling was unmistakable.
The rhythm of the sentences felt like something from an old ghazal.
Soft.
Melancholic.
Deep.
He read the first poem quietly.
"Aaj chand ko dekha to dil ne socha,
shayad woh bhi kisi sooraj se mohabbat karta hoga.
Magar raat ki kismat mein tanhaayi hi likhi hoti hai,
is liye woh har raat chamakta hai…
bas uske liye nahi jisse woh chahta hai."
Tonight when I looked at the moon, a thought crossed my heart —
perhaps it too loves some distant sun.
But the fate of the night is written with loneliness,
so it shines every evening…
just not for the one it longs for.
Arjun leaned back slightly.
Unexpected.
He turned the page.
Another poem.
Shorter.
Even softer.
"Kabhi kabhi sochti hoon,
kya chand bhi thak jaata hoga?
Door se sooraj se mohabbat karte karte…
use roz ubharte dekh kar,
yeh jaante hue ke uski roshni kabhi raat ki nahi hogi."
Sometimes I wonder…
does the moon ever grow tired?
Loving the sun from afar…
watching it rise every day,
knowing its light will never belong to the night.
Arjun’s brows tightened slightly.
Behind him Aisha laughed again.
“Golu, relax! I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“That’s not funny, Ish,” he said firmly.
“You deserve a peaceful life. Not this running around in dangerous places trying to fix the world.”
“Well someone has to fix teeth in those villages.”
“Ish…”
“Okay okay,” she said gently.
“I promise I’ll be careful.”
Arjun turned another page.
Then another.
More poems.
More fragments of quiet sadness hidden behind beautiful metaphors.
One line stopped him.
"Kuch dil bohat jaldi khamoshi seekh jaate hain,
woh zor se hansna shuru kar dete hain…
taake koi tootne ki awaaz na sun sake."
Some hearts learn silence very early.
They begin to laugh loudly…
so no one hears the sound of them breaking.
Arjun exhaled slowly.
This didn’t match the girl on the bed behind him.
The girl laughing casually on the phone.
The girl who looked like sunshine in human form.
As he turned another page—
A single folded sheet slipped out and fell to the floor.
He bent down to pick it up.
At first he assumed it was another poem.
But when he unfolded the paper—
His expression changed instantly.
A medical report.
One page.
His eyes scanned the document.
Diagnosis.
Treatment history.
Medication.
Then the line that made his chest tighten.
Severe Clinical Depression
History of Suicidal Behavior
His jaw hardened slightly.
Below it were medication details.
Heavy sleeping medication.
Strong antidepressants.
Years of treatment.
Then the listed causes.
Family conflict
Sexual assault
Physical assault
For a moment he didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Across the room—
Aisha laughed softly at something Golu said.
Her voice bright.
Light.
“See? I’m perfectly fine,” she told him.
The exact opposite of what the paper in Arjun’s hands was describing.
Something inside him shifted.
Quietly.
Deeply.
He looked toward her.
She sat cross-legged on the bed now, hair messy, smiling gently while listening to her cousin talk.
Looking like the most ordinary girl in the world.
And suddenly he understood something.
The smile wasn’t innocence.
It was armor.
He carefully folded the medical report again.
Placed it exactly back between the notebook pages.
Closed the diary slowly.
Behind him Aisha ended the call.
“Okay Golu… I’ll sleep now.”
A pause.
Then softly—
“Don’t worry so much about me.”
Arjun leaned back in the chair silently.
Watching her.
For the first time since meeting her…
The calm soldier felt something dangerously close to anger.
Not at her.
Never at her.
At the world that had broken her so badly…
And forced her to pretend she was still whole.
