MrDreamy
Favoured Frenzy
Disclaimer : characters in the story are fictitious, any resemblance with any person or story is purely coincidence. No intention to hurt anyone if this really happened with anyone.
She Had a Way of Making People Feel Special
Mira had a peculiar charm. A little teasing, a little sweetness, a little affection—and an ordinary conversation could suddenly feel special. People often found themselves getting attached to her, sometimes wanting more than friendship. But Mira had her boundaries.
“Tum bahut achhe dost ho, bas mujhe nahi chahiye ki humari dosti ka koi aur matlab nikle.”
If a conversation crossed a line that made her uncomfortable, she would quietly withdraw. No drama, no explanations beyond a point. She was genuine, cared about people, and could be remarkably sweet. Yet, not everyone who felt special to her was allowed to stay close.
Then there was Arjun, her boyfriend. They had met online. His calls were always postponed, his availability uncertain, and his attention inconsistent.
“आज बात करोगे ना?”
“आज नहीं, Mira. कल पक्का।”
“तुम्हारे कल में मेरे लिए कभी आज आता भी है?”
“इतना मत सोचा करो। I love you, okay?”
She would go quiet, hurt but hopeful. Every time he returned with a little affection, she found a reason to forgive the distance. She wanted his time, his attention, and the reassurance that she mattered. But the person she wanted these things from remained just beyond reach.
And somewhere in that emptiness, Kabir became a friend she could turn to.
Special, But Not That Way
Kabir listened when Mira was upset with Arjun. He didn't always offer advice; sometimes, he simply stayed and talked until she felt better. Their conversations became a familiar part of their days.
“Arjun फिर नहीं आया?” Kabir asked one night.
“उसके पास मेरे लिए टाइम ही नहीं है।”
“तो उससे बात करो।”
“कितनी बार करूँ? हर बार मैं ही क्यों समझाऊँ?”
“ठीक है। आज मत समझाओ। बताओ, क्या हुआ?”
“कुछ नहीं। तुम बस बात करो मुझसे।”
Kabir gradually began looking forward to her messages. Her jokes, her sudden mood changes, and her affectionate way of talking made her difficult to forget. Mira, meanwhile, had started expecting a little more from him—not romance, she insisted, but a special place in his life.
“तुम आजकल बहुत बिज़ी रहते हो।”
“आज दोस्त के साथ बाहर था।”
“अच्छा। सबके लिए टाइम है तुम्हारे पास।”
“तुम्हारे लिए भी है, Mira।”
“तो मुझे स्पेशल फील क्यों नहीं होता?”
Kabir paused. He wanted her to know she mattered, but he also knew that the meaning of their friendship had to remain clear.
“तुम स्पेशल हो। लेकिन हर बार तुम्हारे मन की बात समझ पाना मेरे लिए भी आसान नहीं है।”
“मैंने कब कहा कि कुछ और चाहिए?”
“तुमने नहीं कहा।”
“तो फिर?”
She laughed and changed the subject.
Mira wanted him to notice when she was absent, to miss her, and sometimes even to persuade her to stay when she pretended to leave. Yet she didn't want him to mistake her affection for romantic interest.
One day, she made her position clear.
“देखो, तुम मेरे बहुत अच्छे दोस्त हो। मुझे नहीं चाहिए कि हमारी फ्रेंडशिप कभी कॉम्प्लिकेटेड हो।”
“समझ गया,” Kabir replied.
He respected her boundaries. But respect didn't automatically make his feelings disappear. He simply chose not to turn them into expectations she had never agreed to meet. For Mira, he was someone who made loneliness easier to bear. For Kabir, she was becoming someone whose absence could change the mood of an otherwise ordinary day. Neither said much about it.
Then She Stopped Coming Online
One night, Mira appeared in Kabir's chat, upset with Arjun again.
“सो रहे हो?”
“नहीं। बोलो, मैडम।”
“आज मन अच्छा नहीं है।”
“Arjun?”
“और कौन?”
Kabir listened. He didn't tell her what to do or ask her to make a decision. He simply kept her company.
After a while, she said, “अब ठीक हूँ। तुमसे बात करके अच्छा लगता है।”
“तो कभी-कभी बिना उदास हुए भी मैसेज कर लिया करो।”
“ज़्यादा खुश मत हो।”
“जी, मैडम।”
She laughed. It was an ordinary conversation, the kind they had shared many times before. The next day, Mira didn't come online. Kabir assumed she was busy. A couple of days later, he messaged her.
“सब ठीक है?”
There was no reply. After a few more days, he sent another message.
“Mira, अगर बिज़ी हो तो कोई बात नहीं। बस उम्मीद है तुम ठीक हो।”
Again, silence. Kabir began wondering what might have happened. Perhaps things with Arjun had finally improved. Perhaps their relationship had taken a turn she didn't want to discuss. Perhaps she had simply decided to step away from everyone.
He had no way of knowing. He missed her messages, her teasing, and the effortless way she could make a conversation feel alive. Sometimes, he wanted to write, “कहाँ गायब हो गई, पागल?” But he stopped himself. He wanted her presence, not her compliance.
Mira had been genuine, affectionate, and caring. She could make people feel deeply valued, yet she guarded her own emotional world carefully. She wanted closeness, but on terms that felt safe to her. She wanted to be special, without always having to explain what being special meant.
Perhaps she was happy with Arjun. Perhaps she was hurting. Perhaps she had found new friends or decided to leave the online world behind. Kabir could only guess.
He didn't force an explanation, and he didn't demand that she return. He simply left the door open.
Because some people don't say goodbye. They just stop showing up, leaving behind conversations that still feel unfinished.
And sometimes, the hardest part isn't knowing that someone has disappeared. It's not knowing whether they are finally happy somewhere—or whether they are still waiting for someone who never quite showed up.
