Forever Is Nothing

They were the best of friends since the day they had first met four years back.


The day they had met, both of them had felt what you normally feel when you are around people who have known you the longest.


That was nature’s cue to them, that theirs would be a special relation, and it indeed was special, in every manner possible.


Not a single day passed when they didn’t share a thing or two about their lives, and wondered how their life had been similar throughout.


It was like they were meant to be best friends.


Why would one of them have trusted the other one enough to tell her about the love of her life, and the other one would have felt the pride that someone had trusted her enough despite being known for barely a month?
The comfort level, the trust, the mutual liking and disliking made them not only the closest thing to true friends, but also made them wonder how two once-stranger people could be this close.


She was there for her when her father was in an accident. Driving her around places she herself had never been to, standing with her as she fought with the people responsible for the accident, lending a shoulder to her when it all felt too much to take, and making two copies of notes in classes she missed.


She, on the other hand, found her support when she lost a grandparent, when she almost fell in love with a wrong person and tried hard to get over him, when she started writing and found no one who could tell her if her stories were any good.


They did a lot for each other, even after the college ended.


That is how they always thought things would be, if only they knew that nothing in this world stays forever.


Neither situations, nor feelings or people, nothing remains unchanged.


The same “love” that, when talked about, had instilled the feeling of trust in one’s heart and the happiness of being trusted in other’s, became responsible for something neither of them had thought of, let alone wanted.


A choice was given and a choice was made, a fight was witnessed and endless tears followed.


All this because of some thing that neither one of them stood responsible for?


Today, as one of them writes it all, she knows that the other one must be thinking about her and crying silent tears, knowing that the last, and last, argument they had had could have been avoided, but wasn’t, for a reason.


That although she chose friendship over love, the other one fought with her on a petty, fabricated reason just for the sake of her happy future, knowing that with her gone, he was the one left in her life.


Because even in folklores, no one has died because of losing a friend.


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