𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝘼𝙬𝙖𝙮

The moving truck pulled away just as the evening sun painted the sky orange.

Cardboard boxes filled the small house. Clothes spilled out of half-open suitcases, books lay scattered across the floor, and a single fan pushed warm air around the room.Rudra sighed."So much work..."He looked around at the mess before picking up another box. His parents had already returned to their hometown after helping him move. College had brought him to a new city, and now this small rented house would be his home.A knock interrupted him."Hello?"Rudra opened the door.Standing outside was an elderly man with silver hair, a gentle smile, and a small steel container in his hands."Welcome to the neighborhood," the man said warmly. "I thought you might be tired after shifting, so I brought some homemade snacks."Rudra forced a polite smile."Thanks.""I'm your neighbor. My name is Mr. Sharma. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask.""Okay."The conversation ended almost as soon as it had begun.Rudra took the container, nodded once, and quietly closed the door.Mr. Sharma stood there for a moment before smiling to himself."Young people..." he murmured softly. "Maybe he'll warm up with time."The next few weeks settled into a routine.Every morning, Rudra woke up later than he planned.He scrolled through his phone, made himself a quick breakfast, and opened job websites. He would apply for one or two positions before losing interest."What's the point?" he muttered. "Nobody replies anyway."Instead of improving his résumé or preparing for interviews, he spent hours watching videos or playing games.Yet whenever another rejection email arrived, he frowned."Why can't I get a job?"Deep down, he knew he wasn't trying as hard as he could—but admitting that was easier said than done.Next door, life moved at a completely different pace.Every morning at six, Mr. Sharma swept the front yard before watering the plants lined neatly along the path.He greeted every passerby with the same cheerful smile."Good morning!"Children waved at him on their way to school.Shopkeepers asked about his health.Neighbors often stopped to chat for a few minutes.Everyone knew Mr. Sharma.Everyone liked him.The only thing missing from his house was his family.His son and daughter lived in another city with their own families. They called whenever they could, but the house still felt too quiet once the phone was set down.Sometimes, after hanging up, Mr. Sharma would glance at the framed family photograph on the wall and smile."I hope you're all eating properly," he whispered, even though no one was there to hear him.Every evening, just before sunset, he followed the same habit.He walked slowly to the old banyan tree standing at the end of the lane.It had been there long before the neighborhood existed.Mr. Sharma settled under the old banyan tree beneath its wide branches, closed his eyes, and let the cool breeze wash over him.Some evenings he read the newspaper.Some evenings he simply watched the leaves sway overhead.To everyone else, it looked like an ordinary routine.To Mr. Sharma, it felt like visiting an old friend.From his bedroom window, Aarav noticed the old man sitting beneath the tree almost every day."Weird," he muttered before pulling the curtains shut.He never imagined that the same tree would one day remind him of everything he wished he had done differently.