At least, that’s what Arjun told himself every time his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Nee Sneham – a lilting, old Malayalam melody about a love so deep it aches – would slice through the silence of his small Chennai apartment. He’d jolt awake, heart hammering, not from the sound, but from the hope it carried. And then he’d remember.
He should change it. He knew that. Every tech advice article and breakup guide screamed it: Remove the triggers. Delete the photos. Change the ringtone. But his thumb never obeyed. Each time he scrolled to her contact, the familiar notes played in his memory, and he’d lock the phone, defeated.
A colleague’s call would blare a jarring techno beat. A spammer would offer him a credit card with a generic trill. But then, on a Tuesday evening, as rain lashed against his window, a different sound emerged from the phone’s speaker.
Now, the ache was real. And the ringtone was a ghost.
