The fifth morning of the second week of April arrived early.

After confirming the veracity of the stories he had heard, Biyas Mahatma packed up his diary.

There was only one final page left to conclude his notes about Gadis he often called “Cherry Blossom Eyes.”

However, it seemed he would have to leave that last page blank. So that perhaps—Biyas Mahatma thought—he could forget his friend, Gadis with the Bamboo Curtain skin, whom he had previously assumed would be willing to be his friend, but in reality, she wasn’t.

The story became even truer when Biyas heard it directly from Gadis. That she—Gadis—had already set her heart on a man. She had abandoned the love she had previously denied for him.

Biyas still remembered the time Gadis had promised not to fall in love, considering her young age. She still remembered the time when she asked Biyas to tell her about that arrogant and cruel world.

“In time, you will understand. The world is not as friendly as you think,” Biyas said to Gadis as they left the weedy Damar forest.

“I know you live a lonely life. I will still be your friend,” Gadis said, linking her little finger with Biyas Mahatma’s. “A friend!” Gadis continued later, as they sat on a rock near a waterfall.

Biyas sat down.

His heart was restless. The same question kept popping into his head: “Has Gadis really left me?”

He flipped through the light green-covered diary, flipping through pages at random, then closing it again.

When the question resurfaced, he reassured himself that Gadis had clearly abandoned him. She had abandoned the friendship they had begun.

So, on the fifth morning of the second week of April, Biyas made up his mind. He would forget Gadis. He intended to burn his diary and tear out the last unwritten page.

That evening, Biyas gathered wood and set it alight. Then, he threw the diary, containing stories of his friendship with Gadis, onto the fire. As quickly as the flames spread, the diary was instantly reduced to ash, consumed by the flames.

The last page of the diary, which he had placed on the chair, flew away, carried by the wind onto the veranda. He let it go. He said, let the wind carry it away, ending all of his heartbreaking stories.

After the last piece of wood burned, Biyas thought to himself: “Goodbye friendship, welcome back the silence.”