Who are you again



If love had a manual, mine would come with a warning label.

Caution: Boyfriend may forget you every 24 hours. Handle with patience… and sarcasm.

I, Vansheekha Dhupia, never signed up for this. But here I am—seventeen years old, sipping watery canteen chai, and watching my boyfriend walk in like some hero from a Bollywood movie. Vardhan Rai Thakur. Tall, sharp jawline, messy hair that screams “I woke up like this,” and that smile… oh God, that smile.

And then it hits me. The look. That confused, almost polite look he always gives me.

Like I’m a stranger.

Like we didn’t spend yesterday evening eating pani puri and fighting over who gets the last one.

Like I’m not his girlfriend.

“Hi,” Vardhan says, scratching the back of his neck, a little awkward. “I’m Vardhan. And you are…?”

I slam my cup down, chai spilling everywhere. “Unbelievable. AGAIN?”

He blinks, startled. “Um… sorry, have we met?”

Around us, the entire canteen bursts into muffled laughter. My best friend Aarav, who’s basically the calm monk of our group, leans back with his sandwich and sighs. “Patience, Vansh. You knew this would happen.”

Beside him, Kabir—absolute chaos incarnate—nearly falls off his chair laughing. “Brooo, this is better than Netflix! Imagine dating a guy who forgets you every day. Vansh, you’re literally in a live comedy show.”

I throw him a death glare, but Kabir only winks.

Turning back to Vardhan, I fold my arms. “I’m Vansheekha. Your girlfriend. We’ve been together for two months. Two. Whole. Months. Ringing any bells, Mr. Goldfish Memory?”

Vardhan stares at me, stunned. His eyebrows knit together like he’s trying really, really hard to pull something from the corners of his mind. For a second, hope flickers in me. Maybe today will be different. Maybe he’ll actually—

“Nope.” He shrugs with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Totally blank.”

I groan and bang my head on the table. Aarav pats my shoulder gently like some guru soothing a heartbroken disciple. “Relax. He’s not doing this on purpose.”

“Oh, I know,” I mutter. “It’s that stupid rare condition. Short-term memory reset. Whatever fancy name the doctors gave it.”

“Retrograde episodic something-something,” Aarav supplies calmly.

“Fish brain,” Kabir corrects, still grinning like an idiot.

Vardhan, meanwhile, sits down across from me, looking ridiculously adorable with his clueless smile. “Well… even if I don’t remember… can we, um, start again? I mean, you seem… nice.”

Nice? NICE?! I’m his girlfriend, not a cup of tea!

But then, despite my frustration, my stupid heart does a little somersault. Because even if he forgets, even if every day starts at zero… he still looks at me with the same warmth. Like maybe his heart remembers what his brain can’t.

I roll my eyes and shove a samosa towards him. “Fine. But you’re buying me cold coffee later. Boyfriends—even forgetful ones—have responsibilities.”

His grin widens, melting me into a puddle. “Deal.”

Aarav shakes his head at us, calm as ever. Kabir whistles dramatically, already planning some new prank. And me? I just sigh.

Welcome to another day in the tragicomedy that is my love life.

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