"in the heart of Mumbai, where the city never sleeps, lived a man who had long forgotten how to dream. At 25, he had a job that paid the bills, an apartment that felt more like a rented cage, and a life that barely felt like living. He had no friends—by choice. He never smiled—because there was nothing to smile about. And he preferred solitude—because people only brought disappointment.

_"For him, home was just a place to keep his belongings, not a place to live. He rarely stayed there—his real life was on the road. Every few days, he was in a new city, arranging tours, guiding groups, and making sure others had the time of their lives. Strangers came and went, excited to explore the world, while he remained an observer—always moving, never belonging.

Travel wasn’t just his job; it was the only thing he truly enjoyed. The open roads, new cities, unfamiliar faces—it gave him a sense of freedom. But even as he stood in the most beautiful places, surrounded by laughter and excitement, he never felt part of it. He was the man behind the scenes, the one who made others' experiences unforgettable, while his own life remained unchanged.

At night, when the tours ended and everyone went back to their rooms, he would sit alone—on a hotel balcony, by a quiet street, or near a bonfire that wasn’t his to join. The world kept moving, and so did he. Maybe that’s why he preferred traveling—because stopping meant facing the emptiness."_

_"It was just another tour. Another city, another hotel, another group of excited travelers waiting for an experience he had seen a thousand times before. He moved through the motions effortlessly—checking bookings, finalizing itineraries, answering the same questions he had memorized answers for. But then, something stopped him.

A name on the guest list. A familiar street. A song playing in the background of the hotel lobby. It didn’t matter what triggered it—what mattered was that, for the first time in years, he felt something other than indifference.

The past, the one he had buried so carefully, came rushing back like an uninvited storm. A memory he had spent years running from. A face. A voice. A moment that had changed everything. And suddenly, all the miles he had traveled, all the distances he had put between himself and his past, felt useless. Because the past had found him again."_

_"He stood frozen for a moment, his fingers tightening around the paper in his hand. The world around him kept moving—tourists laughing, the hotel staff rushing past, the city alive with its usual chaos. But inside him, something had shifted.

His mind pulled him back, against his will, to a time when life had felt different. When he wasn’t this cold, this distant. When he had let himself care. The memory was sudden, sharp, and unwanted.

A quiet evening. A warm voice. A promise made under city lights. And then—a silence that lasted years.

He let out a breath, forcing himself to push it away. This was just another tour, another city. The past had no place here. But as much as he tried to convince himself, he knew the truth—some memories never really fade. They just wait for the right moment to return."_

Opening Scene – The Next Morning

_"The sun rose, but it brought no warmth. He had barely slept. The memory had crept into his dreams, twisting them into something too familiar, too painful. When the alarm rang, he didn’t need it—he had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling of yet another hotel room in yet another city.

He dragged himself out of bed, moving on autopilot—brushing his teeth, throwing on a clean shirt, checking his phone even though he knew there were no messages waiting for him. Outside, the world was already awake—tourists buzzing with excitement, streets alive with the usual chaos.

But inside him, everything was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that only happens when the past refuses to leave.

_"Delhi wasn’t just another stop on his tour—it was home. Or at least, it had been. Three years had passed since he left, since he convinced himself he was done with this city. But now, standing in its familiar chaos, he realized that no matter how far he had traveled, Delhi had never really left him.

As the tour bus moved through the streets, he watched the city through the tinted glass. The roads, the markets, the old buildings—every turn held a memory. The shop where he used to stop for tea. The shortcut he had taken a thousand times. The park where he once spent hours, lost in conversations that no longer belonged to him.

He gripped the microphone a little tighter as he spoke to the group, keeping his voice steady, his tone professional. ‘On your left, you’ll see Connaught Place, one of the most famous shopping and business districts in Delhi…’

But in his mind, he wasn’t guiding tourists. He was reliving a past he had sworn to leave behind."

Got it! Now we’ll show how he pushes his emotions aside and focuses on his work, trying to ignore the weight of being back in Delhi

_"He forced himself to focus. The past could wait—right now, his job came first. He had a group of tourists depending on him, an itinerary to follow, and no time to entertain old memories.

With practiced ease, he continued the tour, speaking with confidence, answering questions, making sure everything ran smoothly. He led them through the crowded streets, past monuments and markets, explaining the history of Delhi like it was just another city to him.

And maybe, to them, it was. But to him? Every street, every turn, every familiar scent carried something he wasn’t ready to face.

Still, he didn’t let it show. He kept moving, kept talking, kept working—because that was the only thing he knew how to do. If he stopped, even for a second, the past might catch up to him again. And he wasn’t ready for that."_

Now that his 6-day tour is over, we can show how he spends his break. Does he actually rest, or does the silence make it harder for him to escape his thoughts?

_"The tour ended smoothly. The last group of tourists left with smiles, thanking him for an unforgettable experience. He nodded, offered a polite smile in return, and watched them disappear into the crowded airport.

And just like that, it was over. Six days of nonstop movement, schedules, and responsibilities—gone in a moment.

He exhaled, rubbing his temples. He had been looking forward to this break, telling himself he needed rest. But now that the silence had settled in, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it anymore.

For six days, work had kept him distracted. Now, with no itinerary to follow, no one expecting anything from him, there was nothing left but his own thoughts. And that’s exactly what he had been trying to avoid."_

---

The streets of Delhi hadn’t changed much. The same old buildings, the same narrow lanes, the same faint smell of street food lingering in the air. Yet, something inside him felt different. Maybe it was the weight of time, or maybe it was the realization that he had stayed away for too long.

After years of silence, stepping into his relatives’ home felt unfamiliar. Their shock, their laughter, their endless questions—it was overwhelming. He gave vague answers, dodging anything too personal. He wasn’t here to reconnect—just to visit. That’s what he told himself.

But as the evening stretched on, the house filled with warmth. Stories were exchanged, childhood memories revisited. It was almost comfortable. Almost.

Still, he needed air.

So, he left. Wandering through the streets, hands in his pockets, he let the city guide him.

And then, a voice behind him—loud, disbelieving.

"Oye… No way! This can’t be real!"

He turned, and for the first time in years, he smiled without forcing it.

His childhood friend stood there, mouth open in shock. The next second, he was pulled into a tight hug, laughter filling the air.

"You idiot! You disappeared on us! Not a single message, not a call—nothing!"

"I was busy."

"Busy? Dude, you ghosted all of us! We thought you joined some secret agency or something."

He chuckled. It felt strange—laughing like this.

"I can’t believe it," his friend said, shaking his head. "You look exactly the same—just a little more serious. But I bet you're still the same troublemaker."

"Says the guy who once tried to climb the school wall just to bunk class and got stuck."

His friend groaned, covering his face. "Oh, come on! That was years ago!"

"And who ran straight into the principal while sneaking back inside?"

"Hey! In my defense, I thought it was the peon!"

They burst out laughing, the years of distance momentarily forgotten.

"Man, those were the days," his friend sighed, shaking his head. "Remember our dream? We were supposed to travel the world together."

"Yeah. And open a small café near the beach."

"Where we’d sit all day, drink chai, and laugh at stupid things."

He nodded. Once upon a time, they had all dreamed big. But life had pulled them in different directions.

"I miss those days," his friend said, his voice softer now.

"Me too," he admitted, surprising even himself.

A pause.

"You know what? We need to meet up. All of us. Tomorrow evening. No excuses."

"All of us?"

"Yes. 4–5 of the old gang. We’ll bring back the old days—at least for one night."

He hesitated for a second. But then, he found himself nodding.

"Okay. Tomorrow."

For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t running away.

_________________________________________________________

The past has a way of finding us, no matter how far we run. Old friendships, forgotten laughter, and childhood dreams—they never truly fade.

But is he ready to face it all again? Or will this reunion reopen wounds he thought were long healed?

Some memories bring warmth. Others bring questions.

Tomorrow will decide which ones remain.

---