Bound by Heart

In a quiet village nestled between rolling hills and whispering woods, lived two inseparable friends—Ayaan and Zoya. They had grown up side by side, their bond forming before they even knew what the word "friendship" meant. From climbing trees to skipping stones on the river, every childhood memory was a shared one.

Wherever Ayaan went, Zoya was just a step behind—or sometimes, ahead, dragging him into some spontaneous adventure. Their parents often joked that they were born with invisible strings tied between them, always tugging one toward the other.

Though they were different in many ways—Ayaan, quiet and thoughtful; Zoya, spirited and bold—their differences never divided them. Instead, they balanced each other. Where Ayaan brought calm, Zoya brought colour. Where Zoya took risks, Ayaan reminded her to be careful. It was a friendship built not on similarities, but on understanding.

As they entered their teenage years, life began to change. School got harder. Expectations grew. People started to whisper—suggesting their friendship was "too close." But Ayaan and Zoya didn’t let the rumours bother them. They knew the truth: theirs was a bond deeper than gossip.

Then came the summer of their seventeenth year—the summer everything changed.

Zoya received a scholarship to study abroad. It was her dream: photography, travel, and freedom. But as excited as she was, she couldn’t ignore the lump in her throat every time she looked at Ayaan.

"I'm scared," she admitted one evening as they sat by the riverbank, the same spot where they'd spent countless hours over the years.

Ayaan skipped a pebble across the water, watching the ripples. "Of what?"

"Of leaving. Of losing this—us."

He didn’t reply immediately. He simply looked at her, then said softly, "You’ll never lose me, Zoya. No matter where you go, we’re bound by heart."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise."

They sat in silence after that, letting the sound of the river speak for them.

The day Zoya left, Ayaan stood on the platform, hiding his tears behind a calm expression. She hugged him tightly before boarding the train, whispering, "Don’t forget me."

"As if I ever could," he whispered back.

And then she was gone.

For a while, they kept in touch daily. Texts, video calls, even postcards. But time zones got tricky, classes got harder, and slowly, the messages became less frequent. Ayaan never blamed her. He knew she was chasing her dream.

But that didn’t stop the ache of missing her.

Years passed. Ayaan stayed in the village, helping with his father’s shop and studying part-time. Zoya travelled from city to city, her photos being published in magazines. Though far apart, they always carried each other in their hearts.

Then one rainy afternoon, Ayaan received a call.

Zoya’s voice was trembling. "Ayaan... I’m coming home."

"Is everything okay?"

A pause. Then a shaky breath. "No... I mean, I don’t know. I just need to come back. I need... you."

She didn’t explain further. She didn’t need to.

When she arrived, she looked the same and different all at once. Her eyes were tired, but her smile lit up the world.

They sat at the riverbank again, just like old times. She told him everything—how the glamour of her dream had begun to feel hollow, how the people around her were all faces without real connection, how she felt lost.

"I thought I needed the world," she said. "But what I really needed was someone who knows me... truly knows me."

Ayaan looked at her, his eyes gentle. "I’ve been here all along."

Zoya laughed through her tears. "Of course you have. You always are."

And in that moment, they both understood something they had always felt but never said aloud: their friendship wasn’t just about childhood memories or teenage dreams. It was a part of who they were—woven into their very being.

It wasn’t defined by distance, or time, or even words.

It was the kind of friendship that didn’t fade. It only grew stronger, quieter, and deeper—like roots beneath the earth.

Years later, long after the river had changed its course and the village had grown, people still talked about Ayaan and Zoya. Not as lovers or legends, but as something even rarer: true friends.

The kind of friends who, no matter how far apart, remain forever bound by heart.