A Graveyard of Promises
Chapter 1
A Graveyard of Promises
The park was a stretch of glowing green, a small river gliding quietly along its side. Birds hummed soft melodies, the sky was a clear canvas of blue, and three thirteen-year-old girls enjoyed their little picnic beneath the sunshine. They laughed, chattered, and soaked in the beauty around them.
“We three should always be happy together,” one of the girls said warmly.
“Sure, why not?” another replied eagerly.
“To keep this friendship long-lasting,” the first girl Sharon said, grinning, “Anjali—you can marry my twin brother!”
Jeny laughed and added, “Then Sharon, you can marry my elder brother!”
Anjali raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you going to marry, Jeny? Sorry, I don’t have any brothers.”
Jeny giggled. “Even if you did, I still couldn’t.”
Anjali and Sharon looked at each other in shock and shouted in unison, “Jeny! Do you have a boyfriend?!”
Jeny laughed louder. “Yeah!”
Both girls pounced on her with questions:
“When did this happen?”
“How long have you been dating?”
“Is he handsome?”
“Are you serious about him?”
“Show us his photo!”
“Call him right now—ask him to come!”
Their questions overlapped until Jeny placed a finger on her lips. “Shhh! I like him, and he’s a good boy. I’ll show you his photo, it’s in your car. Wait here!”
She got up and walked toward the car. But only a few minutes later, a scream tore through the peaceful afternoon.
“Help! Help!”
Anjali and Sharon jumped up, hearts freezing in terror. A girl was drowning—
Jeny.
Before they could move, everything blurred. The world dissolved like a broken film reel, and with a violent jolt, a girl shot up from her sleep.
Anjali.
She was drenched in sweat.
Breathing hard, she rushed into the washroom, splashed water on her face, and stared into the mirror. She was no longer the thirteen-year-old in her dream. She was seventeen now—but her eyes still carried the same fear.
Her trembling fingers opened the small locket around her neck. Inside was a photo of three smiling girls. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
---
The next morning, Anjali dressed in black and walked downstairs. The mansion she lived in swarmed with staff members moving respectfully around her. She sat on the sofa silently.
Her secretary, Mr. Henry, approached.
“Ma’am, everything is ready. We can leave in five minutes.”
She only nodded.
Outside, three cars and fifteen bodyguards in black suits stood prepared. Henry checked the surroundings once more. His phone rang. The voice on the other end was cold and commanding.
“Anjali should not reach the spot on time. Make sure she doesn’t go there.”
Henry’s face stiffened, “Okay, sir.”
A disturbing expression crossed his eyes.
Moments later, Anjali stepped outside and got into the car. The vehicles rolled out—one in front, one behind.
After a few minutes, all three cars halted.
“What happened?” Anjali asked sharply.
“Mam, we can’t go today,” Henry replied. “I heard there’s a trap waiting for you at the location.”
Anjali immediately sensed something off. “If you people don’t take me there, I’ll go by myself.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Henry said, “It’s an order from your father.”
Anjali dialed her father instantly,” I need to go to the graveyard, Dad. You can’t stop me.”
Before he could respond, she hung up.
She grabbed the bouquet from the car door and ordered, “Henry, all of you go home. I will return.”
Henry stepped forward. “Ma’am, please—I can’t let you go alone. I’ll come with you.”
Anjali laughed bitterly. “I don’t trust you. Don’t you dare follow me. Go tell my dad that I fooled you and left. He’ll only scold you. If you follow me—this will be your last day at work, Henry.”
Without waiting for his reply, Anjali strode off and hopped onto a public bus.
She reached the area near the graveyard but still had to walk through a dense stretch of forest. The map said forty-five minutes. She was already late. Anxiety tightened her chest, and she began to run.
Suddenly, two bikes zoomed past her. The third one came straight toward her. The rider braked sharply, skidded, and crashed to the ground.
Anjali ran to him and asked ,“Are you okay?”
The boy removed his helmet. He was handsome, looks same age of Anjali .
“I’m fine,” he said and got up.
“If you’re alright… may I leave? I’m running late.”
He nodded.
Anjali walked ahead, then abruptly turned back. “Can you… drop me nearby? Please. I don’t have much time.”
The boy checked his watch. “I was racing with my friends. Because of you I lost the bet. Now I have to pay them.”
“I’m so sorry,” Anjali whispered.
“I accept your apology only because you’re too beautiful,” he said teasingly. “But I can’t give you a lift.”
She grabbed his hand. “Please!. Just drop me close. I’ll pay whatever money you lost. Please—I’m begging you.”
He pulled his hand free and sighed, “Fine. Hop on.”
Her face lit up. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
She wore the helmet he offered, handed him her bouquet, and climbed on the bike.
“Where to?” he asked, staring at the bouquet in confusion.
“To the graveyard. I’ll show you the map if you don’t know.”
“No need. Just hold tight.”
He sped through the roads and soon reached the spot. Anjali returned the helmet, grabbed her bouquet, and ran inside without a second glance.
The boy stared after her. “She didn’t even thank me,” he muttered.
A moment later she came rushing back, shoved some money into his hand, gasped out, “Thanks for your help,” and sprinted away again.
At the graveyard, Sharon was already there with a bouquet.
“Sorry for being late,” Anjali panted.
“Shall we begin?”, Sharon asked quietly.
They placed their bouquets on Jeny’s grave and set down a strawberry juice bottle—her favourite. Eyes closed, they prayed.
With tears rolling down her cheeks, Sharon whispered, “Jeny… we really miss you. I hope you’re reborn somewhere peaceful.”
Anjali’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Jeny. Your parents are fine… your brother got into a big university. He’s studying medicine now. May your soul rest in peace.”
Later, both girls sat in silence by the grave.
“How’s school?”, Anjali asked softly.
Sharon stood abruptly. “Don’t talk to me. Our friendship ended the moment we lost Jeny. We meet only once a year—for her. Don’t interfere in my life.”
She walked away without looking back.
Tears burned Anjali’s eyes. She wiped them, stood, and began walking out of the graveyard.
---
Outside the gate, the same boy with the bike was waiting.
“Why is this girl inside for so long? She went in two hours ago…”
Just then Anjali walked past him as if he were invisible.
He grabbed her hand. “Didn’t you see me?”
She jerked her hand away. “Who are you?”
He stared at her. “Don’t you remember? I gave you the ride.”
“Didn’t you leave? Why are you still here?”, she asked.
He shoved the money back at her. “I waited to return this. I helped you out of sympathy. But you showed your true colours by paying me. Typical rich—”
He stopped himself and said ,“Sorry.”
He climbed onto his bike, ready to leave.
Anjali suddenly pulled off his helmet. “Just drop me back.”
He saw the sorrow in her eyes and sighed. “Hop on.”
---
They stopped at a restaurant.
“I’m hungry,” he said. “Come with me?”
“I’m not hungry. ”she replied
He said, “Just give me company.”
She followed him inside. He ordered the couple’s set.
“Why the couple’s set?” she asked.
“It’s cheap and I’m hungry.”
Anjali gave him a bewildered look as he casually began serving her food.
“Eat. It’s really good,” he insisted.
She realized she was hungry. One bite, and her eyes widened.
“It’s… really tasty.”
They finished the meal together. He paid the bill and drove her home.
“Thanks for today,” Anjali said quietly and turned to leave.
He stopped her, walked up to her, and extended his hand.
“I’m Aaron. And you?”
She hesitated, then shook his hand. “Anjali. Nice to meet you.”
“Listen, we probably won’t meet again. So let me give you one piece of advice,” Aaron said gently. “I know you’re hurt. But don’t stay sad forever. Learn to smile. You look beautiful. Don’t cry and make yourself ugly.”
He winked, hopped on his bike, and rode away.
Anjali whispered to herself, “Aaron… nice name.”
She walked inside her mansion—unaware of the storm waiting for her within.
