ANSH'S TRUTH
614 Words
FAINT TRACES
Chapter 8: Ansh’s Truth
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I used to think grief came after loss.
But now I know—grief can come even when you don’t remember what you lost.
That aching, empty shape in your chest? That’s her.
That’s Meher.
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The pendant felt warmer than it should’ve.
Like it was carrying someone else's memory.
I found myself sitting in the corner booth at Mellow Brews—the café we always went to. The one with the leaking speaker playing songs a beat too slow. It smelled like coffee and familiarity.
And she should’ve been here.
But wasn’t.
I called Appi. I didn’t even need to say much. Just sent her one word: Meher.
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When she walked in, she looked like she'd been crying already.
Or maybe she'd forgotten how not to look sad.
She slid into the seat beside me, not across.
Her hand reached out and touched mine instinctively, like she already knew I needed grounding.
"I’m scared I made her up," I said. My voice cracked. “What if I’m sick, Appi?”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue.
She just pulled me into a soft side-hug and let me hide in her shoulder.
“You didn’t make her up,” she whispered.
“I remember a laugh I can't place. And sometimes, when I'm looking at a group photo—I know there's someone missing, even if there's no space left.”
She paused. "It's like… I loved someone and lost them. But I don’t know who I lost."
That broke me.
Because that’s exactly what I’ve felt for weeks.
We didn’t speak for a while. She just held my hand under the table.
Tight. Warm. Real.
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Chris showed up next.
Said he got a text with just one word: Meher.
We didn't question it anymore.
He had a photo in his wallet. Old and fraying.
Me, Chris, Appi, Ansh... and a fifth blur.
The kind that doesn't fade from time but from memory.
“I don’t remember her name,” Chris whispered. “But I remember… liking her.”
“You gave her your headphones during board prep,” I said.
He blinked like a reel played in his head—one he didn’t know he had.
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Ansh arrived late.
He looked tired. Not just in body — in soul.
“Say it,” I told him.
He looked at Appi first. Then me.
“I wasn’t supposed to remember,” he said. “None of us were.”
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“She knew me before we spoke,” Ansh said.
“She said she wasn’t supposed to stay long. That she was already disappearing.”
Appi clutched my hand tighter.
“I feel like she braided my hair once,” she said suddenly. “Like… I laughed so hard I almost cried.”
“You did,” I whispered. “During Chemistry.”
A pause.
Then Appi’s voice broke.
“But how do you remember her so clearly?”
I looked down. At the pendant. At the sketch I’d drawn weeks ago. At the hole in my life shaped like Meher Sharma.
“Because someone has to.”
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Chris opened his mouth to speak, but my phone buzzed first.
UNKNOWN CALLING.
I answered.
“You're close,” the voice said.
Click.
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🕯️ Author’s Note:
If you’ve ever felt like something was missing — someone —
Like a smile that should’ve been there in your photos,
Or a name on the tip of your tongue that doesn’t exist anymore...
Maybe you knew a Meher too.
And maybe… you were the one chosen to remember her.
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- Writer
