The Empty Bench at Mayur Vihar

The Empty Bench at Mayur Vihar In Mayur Vihar, where the streets always hummed with life, I spent my childhood summers with Katherine, my best friend. Our favorite spot was a small bench in the park near the metro station. We’d sit there for hours, talking about everything—our dreams, our fears, and the future we thought we’d face together. Katherine always said, “We’ll never change, no matter what. This park, this bench—it’ll always be ours.” But one day, without warning, Katherine was gone. Her family had moved, no farewell, no explanation. She was just… gone. I waited at the bench every day for weeks, hoping she would show up. But she didn’t. The park, once so full of laughter and life, felt eerily empty. The swing swayed in the breeze, but no one was there to push it. The sound of the passing trains felt like a distant reminder of the things I couldn’t control. Eventually, I stopped going to the park. I couldn’t bear sitting on the same bench without her. Years later, I returned to Mayur Vihar, standing in front of that empty bench. The world had changed, but the memories still lingered. I sat down, the same spot where we’d shared so many moments, and for the first time, I let myself remember. Katherine had kept her promise. She never really left. In my heart, she would always be sitting right beside me.