Then it wasn’t just a mistake. It was a return.
Riya’s heart thudded. She stood. “I need to confirm something.”
Her khala got up to her feet, chair scraping softly against the floor. “I’ll be in my room if you need to talk more.”
When the door clicked shut behind her, Riya stayed where she was. She leaned back, staring at the bar of sunlight gilding the scuffed linoleum. Her phone sat on the table, dark and silent. She picked it up, and her thumb paused over his name.
Kian answered on the first ring. “Riya?”
“Hey.”
“Riya! Hi. Everything good?”
She caught the faint hum of background noise, the soft shuffle of movement. Kian was working on something, she was sure of it now. Was it that new song he said he was doing for his Berklee audition?
“Yeah. I just... needed to ask you something.”
“Yes! Anything. Literally anything.” His warmth rushed through the line. “God, I wasn’t expecting you to call me. My heart is racing—is your heart racing? Your voice sounds so nice on the phone. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Thank you.” Riya was pacing, feeling unmoored by his energy. “I just, uh—” Now that she had him on the line, the words felt lost.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I meant it when I said we’re going to find a way. I know you’re probably nervous. But you’re not in this alone. Do I need to come over there and make you do mirror affirmations?”
“No thank you.”
A small pause. The hum of the fridge. The distant echo of music on his end—strings, maybe a guitar.
Riya took a breath.
“In eighth grade—when you got suspended. You said another student saw what happened. Spoke up.”
“Yeah.”
“So I’ve been thinking... Kian, was it me?”
A pause. A gentle laugh.
“You finally remember,” he said. The confirmation settled into the space between them like dust, soft and weightless.
“So it really was you,” she whispered.
“I guess I do look pretty different,” Kian said. “I was hoping you’d remember on your own. Kinda hurt, being the only one who did.”
His confession lodged beneath her ribs. For all those years, had Kian caught glimpses of her in the hallway, wondering if she recognized him?
And if they managed to break the curse—would she become the only one who remembered?
She wondered if that would be part of her penance.
“I never saw your face. I didn’t know—” She exhaled slowly. “I’m so sorry.”
“But youdid,” he said. “You just saw some kid getting bullied—it didn’t matter who. You just wanted to help. And you tried to make things right, when no one else did. Miss Justice Junkie.”
“It’s all so blurry,” Riya said.
“I mean, it was a long time ago. Actually, my dad even dragged me to your house afterward, to thank you. But your parents said you were sick.”
So that’s why Riya’s dad had thought Kian looked familiar.
