Not All Friends Stay Forever

 Arham was never the type of boy who had too many friends. He was shy, quiet, and always lost in his own little world of drawings and thoughts. But when Zayan came to his school in 6th grade, everything changed.

Zayan was the opposite — loud, funny, full of life. He had a smile that could break any silence and a way of talking that made even boring things sound exciting. On his very first day, he sat beside Arham and said, “Hi. You look lonely. So I’ll be your friend now.”

And just like that, Arham wasn’t lonely anymore.

They became inseparable.

From school breaks to walks back home, from cricket matches to helping each other with homework, they did everything together. Arham learned how to laugh louder. Zayan learned how to sit quietly and just listen. Their worlds blended in a way that felt natural — like two puzzle pieces finally finding their place.

They had secret codes, silly handshakes, and plans for the future. 

“One day, we’ll start our own YouTube channel,” Zayan would say. “You draw, I talk.”

“And we’ll be famous,” Arham would smile.

But time doesn’t always follow promises.

In 9th grade, something started to change.

Zayan made new friends — the kind who had expensive phones, stylish haircuts, and loud opinions. He started sitting with them, laughing with them, and slowly, Arham became… invisible.

At first, Arham told himself it was just a phase.

But the silence grew longer.

Messages were seen but not replied to. Lunches became quiet again. Inside jokes felt like memories. And one day, when Arham passed by Zayan in the school corridor and waved, Zayan looked away — pretending he didn’t notice.

That night, Arham sat with his old sketchbook, flipping through pages they had once filled together. Doodles of silly superheroes, comic strips they planned, and at the back, one sentence written in Zayan’s handwriting:

“Best friends. Always. No matter what.”

Arham smiled sadly.

“Not always,” he whispered.

Years passed. School ended. Everyone went their own way.

Arham chose art. Zayan disappeared into the world of business, parties, and people.

One day, Arham opened Instagram and saw Zayan’s photo — smiling, surrounded by people he didn’t know, celebrating success. Arham stared at it for a long moment.

Then he turned off his phone and picked up a pencil.

He started sketching a memory: two boys sitting under a tree, sharing chips, laughing like the world was theirs. He didn’t name the characters. He didn’t need to.

Because deep inside, he had accepted something most people learn late:

Not all friends stay forever.

And that’s okay.

Some come to teach us how to laugh.
Some come to teach us how to let go.

But each one, in some way, becomes a part of who we are.