A Flight of Memories

The flight was calm, the steady hum of the engines filling the cabin with a low, rhythmic lull. She adjusted the blanket over her sleeping son, her fingers brushing against the tiny hands curled into a fist. Her husband sat beside her, flipping through a magazine, oblivious to the storm that was about to crash into her heart.

It started with a voice. A voice she hadn’t heard in years.

“One beer, please. Extra cold. And if you have one of those tiny lemon wedges, throw it in. And lots of ice cubes. Just for drama.”

She froze. The request was too specific, too unique too familiar. Slowly, she turned her head toward the voice. And there he was.

Nikhil. 

The man she had once loved with everything she had. The man who had made her laugh, who had kissed her under streetlights, who had once whispered dreams into her ears like poetry. He looked different now—leaner, older, his dark hair flecked with streaks of silver. But those eyes… still the same. Still mischievous, still carrying secrets of a thousand untold stories.

A sea of memories flooded her mind. Sneaking out for midnight drives, sharing a plate of pani puri, getting drenched in the rain because he insisted that “love stories need at least one Bollywood moment.” And, of course, the night he had kissed her on the rooftop, under the glow of a city that never slept, promising her forever.

Forever. Such a naive word.

He hadn’t seen her yet. She watched as he took his beer, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass absentmindedly. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to look away. This was not the time. Not the place. She had a life now, a husband, a son. Nikhil was a chapter she had closed long ago.

Or so she thought.

A while later, as he walked past her toward the restroom, something in her shifted. She didn’t think. She simply stood up, made her way down the narrow aisle, and waited outside the restroom door.

When he stepped out, their eyes met. And in that moment, time folded in on itself.

“Wow,” he finally breathed, shaking his head as if to clear the daze. “Of all the flights in the world…” he echoed line which was eerily similar to one from their favourite movie once upon a time. 

She laughed, and it came out a little too soft, a little too fragile. “And of all the beers in the world, you still order it like that.”

He grinned. “Some things never change.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid.

“Walk with me?” she asked.

He nodded. They moved toward the galley, standing near the small windows, away from the sleeping passengers.

“You look… happy,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“I am,” she admitted. “I have a wonderful husband. And my son, Kabir… he’s my whole world.”

Nikhil smiled. “Kabir, huh? Nice name.”

She hesitated before asking, “And you? Tell me about your life.”

He shrugged, looking away. “Oh, you know. Work, travel… the usual.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Still avoiding direct questions, I see.”

“Still asking the tough ones,” he shot back with a smirk.

They both chuckled, and for a moment, it was as if nothing had changed. As if they were still those two reckless kids who believed love could conquer anything.

Her mind drifted again—to their last night together. The fight, the tears, the realization that love wasn’t always enough. She had wanted stability; he had wanted adventure. And so, they had walked away.

“You ever think about us?” she asked softly.

He exhaled. “More than I should.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him. There was something different in his face. A tiredness. A shadow. Before she could press further, an announcement interrupted them—the captain’s voice, announcing their descent.

As they walked back to their seats, she felt an ache she couldn’t quite name. Was it regret? Nostalgia? Or simply the cruel passage of time?

The plane touched down smoothly. As she reached for her bags, a commotion near the front caught her attention. A group of medical personnel was boarding, moving with quiet urgency. And then she saw him.

Nikhil, standing near the exit, waiting for them.

Her eyes got a little wider than usual as realisation hit her like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t just traveling. He was sick. Very sick.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned around. Their gazes locked.

He smiled. A small, tired, but utterly genuine smile. Then his eyes flickered to her husband, to her son, and back to her.

There was no bitterness in his expression, no sadness. Just… peace.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

She stood there, frozen, as her husband gently touched her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Yeah. Just an old friend.”

As they walked toward the exit, she couldn’t shake the weight in her chest. Some people come into your life like a storm, changing everything. And some leave like a whisper, a lingering echo of what once was.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get to say goodbye.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2025. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used