{"id":3583,"date":"2025-05-23T16:59:46","date_gmt":"2025-05-23T16:59:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/?p=3583"},"modified":"2025-05-23T17:02:58","modified_gmt":"2025-05-23T17:02:58","slug":"when-the-world-wasnt-looking-we-grew-apart-anyway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/when-the-world-wasnt-looking-we-grew-apart-anyway\/","title":{"rendered":"When the World Wasn\u2019t Looking, We Grew Apart Anyway"},"content":{"rendered":"
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They didn\u2019t hug like they used to. But they stayed long enough to unlearn the silence.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

Anika hadn\u2019t spoken to Isha in seven months. Not for lack of trying. Just not enough trying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It started slow. Rescheduled calls. The \u201clet\u2019s definitely catch up soon\u201d messages that came with heart emojis and no actual dates. The growing silence between texts. Then, one day, they just\u2026 stopped happening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn\u2019t a fight. Which almost would have been easier. It was distance disguised as busy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

They had been close once. Not the kind of close you post about. Not the curated selfies and brunch recaps. But the other kind\u2014the real kind. The kind where you could ugly-cry over job rejections or parents who said the right thing in the most painful way. The kind where you lay next to each other in bed, no words, just breathing in the same shame after being ghosted by someone who had no right to leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isha was the one who taught Anika how to thread her eyebrows in college, how to mix vodka with Limca and not die. How to dress \u201clike you don\u2019t care, but in a very specific way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anika had been the one who stayed with Isha in the hospital after that abortion no one else knew about. Held her hand while she threw up. Took the call from her manager and said, \u201cShe\u2019s sick, she\u2019s not coming in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were that kind of close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

And then life happened the way it always does. Isha got promoted. Anika moved cities. They both met people who made them feel exciting again. And slowly, the friendship that had once felt like home started to feel like an apartment you\u2019d moved out of\u2014familiar, but not yours anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Now Anika was standing in a caf\u00e9 in Delhi, one of those \u201curban nostalgia\u201d places with recycled wood tables and overpriced ragi muffins, waiting for Isha. They\u2019d finally scheduled a catch-up. She wasn\u2019t even sure what she wanted out of it. Closure? Forgiveness? Just coffee?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isha arrived five minutes late, still wearing her office lanyard like it was armor. She looked good. Tired, but good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They hugged, awkwardly. The kind of hug you give someone who used to know your secrets but doesn\u2019t know your current skin-care routine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo\u2026\u201d Isha said, sipping her cold brew, \u201chow\u2019s life?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anika paused. For a second, she considered saying the polite thing. Great. Busy. You know how it is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she didn\u2019t. She said, \u201cHonestly? I think I broke a piece of myself last year and I\u2019m still figuring out how to put it back. I had surgery. I left Vihaan. I stood in rooms that didn\u2019t want me there and spoke anyway. It\u2019s been… heavy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isha blinked. \u201cShit. I had no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know,\u201d Anika said. \u201cThat\u2019s kind of the point.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a beat of silence. Then Isha reached across the table, fingers resting near the sugar sachets like she needed something to hold onto.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t there,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd I don\u2019t have a good excuse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anika shrugged. \u201cNeither of us were.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They let that truth sit between them. It didn\u2019t ask to be solved. Just heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

They talked for two hours. Not like before. But not like strangers either. Isha laughed at one of Anika\u2019s snarky comments about startup culture. Anika teared up when Isha described the panic attacks she\u2019d started having in April. They weren\u2019t pretending anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As they left, Isha hugged her tighter this time and said, \u201cCall me. For real. Even if you have nothing new to say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anika smiled. \u201cSame.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Walking home, Anika didn\u2019t feel fixed. But she felt something loosen. Like a window had cracked open in a stuffy room. Like maybe friendships don\u2019t end when you lose touch. Maybe they end when you stop believing they can find their shape again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And maybe\u2014if both people are willing\u2014they get to become something new.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Anika hadn\u2019t spoken to Isha in seven months. Not for lack of trying. Just not enough trying. It started slow. Rescheduled calls. The \u201clet\u2019s definitely catch up soon\u201d messages that came with heart emojis and no actual dates. The growing silence between texts. Then, one day, they just\u2026 stopped happening. It wasn\u2019t a fight. Which […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","pgc_sgb_lightbox_settings":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[57],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-3583","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-fiction","7":"entry","8":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"author_info":{"display_name":"vasudha","author_link":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/author\/vasudha\/"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3583"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3583"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3583\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3586,"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3583\/revisions\/3586"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3583"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3583"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ideaweb.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3583"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}