The airport was unusually quiet for a Monday morning. The announcement echoed through the sterile air - "Flight 104 to San Francisco now boarding."

Arjun stood still, watching Shruthi zip up her jacket. Her passport peeked out of the side pocket of her handbag, and the grey neck pillow she always carried now hung from her backpack like an afterthought. She looked like a woman chasing dreams.

He looked like a man learning how to let go.

"You packed the paruppu podi, right?" he asked, trying to sound light.

"Yes," she smiled, "in between my books and your letters."

Arjun nodded, but the words didn't ease the knot in his stomach. The letters - he had written one for each month she'd be away. Stupid, cheesy maybe, but he needed her to feel his presence, even oceans away.

"Don't skip meals," she said, holding his hand. "Take your vitamin D. And talk to amma, even if she nags."

He nodded.

"Will you call when you land?" he asked softly.

"Of course."

But somehow, both of them felt the certainty fade even before the words left her lips.

The final boarding call blared. She pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'll miss you, Arjun."

He didn't say it back. Instead, he said, "Don't forget to live? not just work."

She stepped away, her eyes glassy, her heart louder than her steps.

As she disappeared through the gate, Arjun stood frozen. People moved around him like time, indifferent.

He returned home to their apartment - two mugs left out, her hair clip on the table, her scent still clinging to the pillow. But the echo of her goodbye lingered louder than anything else.

In the quiet of that evening, Arjun sat by the window and whispered into the emptiness, "Please don't forget me? while chasing everything else."