The Days That Were Never Mine - The Memories That Weren’t There - Part 7
Aarav didn’t move for a long time.
The last message still echoed in his mind.
“You did.”
“You did…”
It didn’t feel like an answer.
It felt like a beginning.
If this… thing… this other presence…
If it was right—
Then the truth wasn’t in the present.
It was in the past.
Aarav stood up slowly, his body heavy but his mind sharp now.
Focused.
Almost desperate.
“When did I start forgetting?” he whispered.
“When did this begin?”
He grabbed his bag, pulled out an old box tucked deep inside—something he hadn’t opened in years.
Dust clung to its edges.
Familiar.
Untouched.
“Childhood doesn’t lie,” he said quietly.
“If anything is real… it’s that.”
He opened the box.
Old photographs.
Report cards.
Certificates.
Random pieces of a life that felt… distant.
Aarav picked up a photo.
A small boy—him—standing beside a bicycle.
Smiling widely.
Carefree.
He stared at it.
Waited.
Tried to feel something.
A memory.
A moment.
A connection.
Nothing came.
Aarav frowned.
“That’s fine… not everything comes back instantly.”
He picked another photo.
A school function.
Him on stage.
Receiving something.
Still nothing.
“No… I remember school. I remember friends. I remember—”
He stopped.
His thoughts stalled.
Names.
He tried to recall names.
Silence.
Aarav’s breathing slowed.
“I had friends…” he said softly.
“I know I did.”
But he couldn’t name a single one.
Not one.
A cold realization crept in.
He didn’t just have missing moments.
He had missing years.
“No… that’s not possible…”
He grabbed a report card.
Opened it quickly.
Name: Aarav Sharma
Class: 5th Standard
Remarks: “Quiet but attentive. Needs to participate more.”
Aarav stared at the handwriting.
Familiar.
Official.
Real.
But the child described there…
Didn’t feel like him.
“Quiet?” he muttered.
“I wasn’t quiet…”
Was he?
He didn’t know.
That scared him more than anything.
Because this wasn’t about forgetting details anymore.
This was about not knowing who he had ever been.
Aarav dug deeper into the box.
More papers.
More photos.
Then—
He found it.
A notebook.
Smaller than the rest.
Worn out.
Edges curled.
His name was written on the front.
In messy handwriting.
Childlike.
Aarav hesitated.
Then opened it.
Pages filled with scribbles.
Half-written thoughts.
Random drawings.
He flipped through quickly.
Nothing unusual.
Just a child’s mind.
Until—
The last few pages.
The handwriting changed.
Still childish.
But more… deliberate.
Aarav leaned closer.
His heart beating faster.
There, written across the page:
“Sometimes I forget things.”
Aarav froze.
Below it—
“Not small things.”
His fingers tightened around the notebook.
“Big things.”
Aarav’s breath became shallow.
“No…” he whispered.
The next line was messier.
Almost rushed.
“But I think someone remembers for me.”
The room went silent.
Aarav stared at the words.
“That’s not…” he said weakly.
“I didn’t write this…”
But he knew he had.
The handwriting matched.
The age matched.
Everything matched.
Except the memory.
He turned the page.
Blank.
Then the next.
Blank.
Until the final page.
One sentence.
Written darker than the rest.
Pressed harder.
“If I forget again… he will stay.”
Aarav dropped the notebook.
A sound escaped his throat—half breath, half fear.
“No… no… no…”
This wasn’t new.
This hadn’t started yesterday.
Or last week.
Or last year.
This had always been there.
Since childhood.
Waiting.
Growing.
And somehow—
He had forgotten it.
Aarav stepped back slowly, his legs weak.
“Who is ‘he’…?” he whispered.
The answer didn’t come from the room.
It didn’t come from the phone.
It came from something deeper.
Something older.
A memory.
Or something pretending to be one.
A faint image surfaced in his mind.
Blurry.
Incomplete.
A room.
Darker.
Smaller.
A younger version of himself.
Sitting alone.
Talking.
Not to someone outside.
But to someone… unseen.
Aarav’s eyes widened.
“I wasn’t alone…”
The realization hit him like a wave.
He never had been.
The presence.
The voice.
The other him—
It didn’t appear recently.
It didn’t take over.
It stayed.
Because Aarav had let it.
A long time ago.
“I don’t remember letting you in…” he said quietly.
And for the first time—
The voice didn’t wait.
“You didn’t.”
Aarav froze.
“You asked me to stay.”
His heart pounded violently.
“That’s not true…”
The response came instantly.
Calm.
Certain.
“Then why did you write it?”
Aarav’s gaze dropped slowly…
to the notebook on the floor.
“If I forget again… he will stay.”
His own words.
His own past.
His own decision.
Aarav stepped back, shaking his head.
“No… I wouldn’t do that…”
But deep down—
Something felt familiar.
Not the memory.
The feeling.
Loneliness.
Silence.
Fear.
A child wanting… something.
Anything.
Even if it wasn’t real.
Aarav’s voice broke.
“What did I bring into my life…?”
The answer came softly.
Almost gently.
“Me.”
Silence followed.
But this time—
It wasn’t empty.
It was shared.
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