The Bench Under the Banyan Tree

I. The Park That Held Their Childhood

For as long as she could remember, Naila had loved the old neighborhood park.

Not because it was beautiful—most benches were cracked, the swings squeaked, and the paint on the slide had long faded—but because of the banyan tree.

Tall. Wise. Protective.

Its long roots hung like curtains, its branches wide enough to shade half the park.

Under that tree stood an old wooden bench.

That bench was not just a seat.

It was a chapter of Naila’s life.

She and Arooj had grown up there, their school bags tossed on the ground, their laughter echoing through the leaves. They shared everything on that bench:

Their first failed exam

Their first crushes

Their dreams of becoming something big someday

Their fears

And their secrets

For years, they were inseparable—two halves of one story.

But stories change.

And sometimes, a single sentence can break a whole chapter.

II. The Rumor That Broke Everything

One winter afternoon, everything shifted.

A classmate whispered to Arooj that Naila had made fun of her behind her back:

“She said you’re clingy.”

“She said you’re jealous.”

“She said she’s tired of being your friend.”

None of it was true.

But Arooj didn’t ask.

She didn’t confront.

She just believed.

Her face had gone pale.

Her hands trembled.

She walked away from Naila that same day—silently, without explanation.

The next morning, she changed her seat.

The day after, she stopped replying to messages.

By the end of the week, she didn’t even look at Naila.

And Naila… she broke in a quiet way.

She replayed every memory, searching for what she had done wrong.

She cried at night, clutching the friendship bracelet Arooj had made for her.

But pride whispered to her, “If she doesn’t trust you, why should you explain?”

So she didn’t.

The bench under the banyan tree became lonely.

III. Empty Days

Months passed.

Life moved on, but Naila and Arooj’s empty spaces never filled.

Naila stopped visiting the park.

She avoided passing by the banyan tree—too many memories stung like thorns.

Arooj avoided it too.

Every time she saw the branches dance in the wind, she felt a twist of guilt.

Their classmates noticed the silence between them.

“Weren’t you two best friends?” someone asked once.

“We grew apart,” Arooj said flatly.

Naila said nothing.

Deep inside, both of them hurt.

IV. The Rain That Started It All

One unexpected evening in early summer, dark clouds gathered suddenly.

Thunder cracked the sky.

Then rain began to fall—hard, fast, cold.

Naila had no umbrella.

School had just ended, and she ran into the nearest shelter she could find:

The old park.

She rushed under the banyan tree, clutching her books.

Rainwater dripped from her hair, her uniform, her sleeves.

She took a step toward the bench—and froze.

Someone was already sitting there.

Arooj.

Her hair dripping.

Her eyes red—tired, emotional.

Her hands wrapped around her knees.

For a moment, the only sound was the rain hitting the ground.

Arooj looked up slowly.

Their eyes met for the first time in months.

V. The Storm Inside

Naila swallowed hard.

She considered walking away—but her feet didn’t move.

The banyan tree felt like it was holding them both in place.

Arooj spoke first, voice barely above a whisper.

“You still come here?”

Naila forced a smile.

“Only when it rains.”

Arooj looked down.

“I… I didn’t expect to see you.”

Silence settled between them—not the calm silence they once shared, but the heavy, suffocating silence of broken trust.

Naila finally spoke.

“Arooj… what happened? Why did you leave me like that?”

Arooj’s eyes filled immediately.

“I heard—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I heard something. And I believed it.”

“What did you hear?”

“That you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Naila’s heart twisted.

“And you didn’t even ask me?”

Arooj bit her lip, tears spilling down.

“I should have. I know I should have. But… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared that it might be true.”

Naila looked away, rain blurring the world.

“How could you think I’d say that about you, Arooj? After everything?”

Arooj wiped her cheeks with trembling fingers.

“You were the closest person to me. That’s why it hurt so much.”

VI. The Truth That Heals

Naila sat slowly on the other side of the bench.

“I never said anything like that,” she said softly.

“I would never insult you… never betray you.”

Arooj looked up, breath catching.

“So it was a lie?”

“Yes,” Naila whispered.

“But your silence hurt more than the lie.”

Arooj sobbed quietly.

“I’ve hated every day without you.”

“I missed you when I laughed.”

“I missed you when I cried.”

“I missed you… all the time.”

Naila felt her own tears fall.

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me anymore.”

Naila shook her head, voice breaking.

“I waited for you. Every day.”

Arooj looked at her with so much regret it almost hurt to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Naila. I’m so, so sorry.”

And for the first time…

Naila believed the apology.

VII. Peace Under the Banyan Tree

The rain softened.

The storm slowed.

Water dripped from the leaves like blessings.

Arooj moved her hand closer to Naila’s.

Naila didn’t pull away.

The air felt different—lighter, safer.

“Can we fix this?” Arooj asked timidly.

Naila smiled through tears.

“We already started.”

The wind rustled the roots of the banyan tree, like it was sighing in relief.

The bench no longer felt empty.

It felt like home again.

VIII. A New Beginning

After the rain stopped, the two walked home together—like old times.

Arooj held Naila’s umbrella even though both were already soaked.

Naila carried Arooj’s books.

They talked.

Slowly.

Cautiously.

But warmly.

By the time they reached the main road, they were smiling again.

Before parting, Arooj said:

“Naila… let’s never let silence grow between us again.”

Naila nodded.

“If something hurts you… ask me first.”

“And you ask me too,” Arooj said, touching her arm.

“I promise,” Naila whispered.

IX. The Bench Lives On

From that day forward, the banyan tree became special again.

They went there after exams, after good days, after bad days, after everything.

Sometimes they sat in silence, sometimes they talked for hours.

Their friendship wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t the same as before.

It was better—stronger because it had broken once and healed.

And the banyan tree, with its branches wide and roots deep, stood witness to it all.