Every night since the last seven years, she's had the same dream. Her hand was slipping away from someone else's. She could hear herself crying loudly. Even though most of the words didn't quite reach her eyes, she knew she was always calling out for someone. Someone who cared about her, someone who loved her…
Megha woke up with a start yet again at the crack of dawn, on the day of her last ever final exams. She was sweating as though she'd run for miles. Calming herself down with deep, steady breaths, she looked around her room.
She was still where she had been last night. There was nothing strange or unusual about where she was now. But she couldn't help wondering who that hand belonged to. It didn't look like anyone familiar.
Yet she couldn't help thinking she knew this dream. She just didn't know how to put the pieces of the puzzle together.