The village of Sonabari was quiet, with its rolling fields and slow, sunlit days. Sadia, a simple girl with large, curious eyes, lived in a small thatched house near the river. Her days were filled with chores, laughter with friends, and the occasional stolen moment under the great banyan tree where she loved to dream of a life beyond the village.
One afternoon, while she sat by the river, she saw a stranger approaching. He was tall, dressed in crisp urban clothes, with an air of confidence that stood out against the simplicity of the village. His name, he told her, was Kakatua. He was visiting from the city to stay with distant relatives.
Their first conversation was awkward—Sadia shy and unsure, Kakatua curious and amused by her innocence. But slowly, their conversations grew longer. He marveled at her unfiltered honesty, her laughter like music. She was fascinated by his stories of bustling streets, glowing lights, and opportunities she could barely imagine.
They began to meet often under the banyan tree, away from prying eyes. Sadia would bring him mangoes and show him the best spots by the river, while Kakatua spoke of his ambitions and dreams. Their friendship grew, though an unspoken tension always lingered—something deeper than words but too fragile to name.
But one day, everything changed.
Kakatua didn’t come to the banyan tree as promised. Days turned into weeks, and still, he didn’t appear. Sadia’s heart grew heavy, her mind racing with questions. She asked around the village, but no one seemed to know where he had gone. His relatives mentioned only that he had left abruptly, returning to the city.
Sadia was devastated. Her once-bright eyes grew dull, and her laughter faded. She wandered the village aimlessly, her feet carrying her to all the places they had shared. Under the banyan tree, she sat for hours, waiting for a figure that never came.
Rumors began to spread. Some said Kakatua had forgotten her, others that he had never truly cared. But Sadia refused to believe it. In her heart, she clung to the memories of his laughter, his warmth, and the way he looked at her as if she were the only person in the world.
As the seasons changed, Sadia’s grief consumed her. She stopped speaking, her world reduced to the hollow ache of his absence. The villagers whispered that she had gone mad, her soul broken by love.
But deep down, Sadia held on to a fragile hope—that one day, beneath the banyan tree, Kakatua would return. And until that day, she would wait, her heart forever tethered to the boy who had taught her the beauty and pain of longing.
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