They were usually annoying.

Pointless.

A waste of battery.

Which was exactly why she stared at her screen in confusion when a message appeared at 2:17 AM.

**Aaradhya:**

*Are you awake?*

Nila blinked.

Then laughed softly.

Who asks that question at two in the morning?

She typed back immediately.

**Nila:**

*Unfortunately.*

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Then—

**Aaradhya:**

*I can't sleep.*

Nila stared at those three words longer than necessary.

Something felt wrong.

Aaradhya always seemed so composed.

So controlled.

Seeing vulnerability from her felt strange.

And oddly important.

Without thinking, Nila pressed call.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then connected.

Silence.

Only soft breathing.

Neither spoke first.

Finally Nila sighed.

"You woke me up for this?"

"You were awake."

"Details."

For the first time, Aaradhya laughed.

A quiet laugh.

Soft enough to make Nila smile automatically.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

---

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Nila asked.

Silence.

Long silence.

Too long.

Then Aaradhya finally answered.

"My father forgot my birthday."

Nila froze.

The casual way she said it somehow made it hurt more.

Like she'd already accepted it.

Like it wasn't the first time.

"He forgot last year too."

The words came out quieter.

Smaller.

Nila stared at her dark ceiling.

She suddenly understood something.

Aaradhya wasn't strong because life had been kind.

She was strong because nobody else carried her pain.

She had learned to carry it herself.

Every day.

Alone.

---

"My mother remembered," Aaradhya continued quietly.

"She always does."

"But he didn't."

A painful laugh escaped her.

"I know it's stupid."

"It's not."

"It's just a birthday."

"It's not about the birthday."

Silence.

Aaradhya didn't answer.

Because they both knew Nila was right.

It was never about the birthday.

It was about feeling forgotten.

Unimportant.

Invisible.

---

The conversation drifted after that.

From family.

To college.

To favorite movies.

To random childhood memories.

Hours passed without either noticing.

For the first time in years, Nila found herself talking honestly.

Not completely.

Just enough.

At some point, Aaradhya suddenly asked,

"Why do you hate people getting close?"

Nila stared at the darkness.

There it was.

The question.

The one nobody ever asked.

Or maybe the one nobody cared enough to ask.

"My dad left."

The answer came quietly.

No jokes.

No sarcasm.

Nothing to hide behind.

The line remained silent.

Listening.

Waiting.

"He promised he'd stay."

Nila swallowed.

"Then one day he didn't."

Aaradhya's breathing softened.

"I'm sorry."

Nila laughed bitterly.

"That's life."

"No."

Aaradhya's voice became firm.

"That's not life."

Nila didn't know what to say.

Because nobody had ever disagreed with her pain before.

---

The clock read 3:41 AM.

Both should have ended the call.

Neither wanted to.

Nila sat near her window now.

Watching the empty streets.

Listening to Aaradhya breathe softly through the phone.

Comfortable silence.

The rarest kind.

Then Aaradhya suddenly spoke.

"Nila?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For calling."

Nila smiled faintly.

The kind of smile nobody ever saw.

"Don't make it emotional."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

A small pause.

Then—

"Happy birthday, Aaradhya."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Nila wondered if the call had disconnected.

Then she heard it.

A shaky breath.

Almost like someone trying not to cry.

"Thank you."

The words sounded broken.

And somehow that hurt more than tears.

---

When the call finally ended, the sky outside was already turning pale.

Morning was coming.

Nila looked at her phone.

Five hours.

Five hours talking to a girl she supposedly found annoying.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Yet before sleeping, she found herself smiling.

For the first time in a very long time...

Someone had trusted her with their sadness.

And she wasn't sure how to stop caring anymore.