The beach trip had ended, but the aftertaste of it lingered like the salty wind in her hair.
Back in her room, Aanya couldn't sleep.
She lay on her side, staring at the ceiling, the soft yellow light casting slow-moving shadows. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the fabric of the scarf he had returned to her—something she hadn't even realized had slipped from her during the car ride until he handed it back just before leaving.
The way he looked at her then… no words, no dramatic gestures—just eyes that held something unspoken.
And somehow, that said everything.
---
He, on the other hand, drove back home with one hand on the wheel and the other clenched around the steering tightly.
He was still tasting the breeze that carried her laughter. Still feeling the warmth of her resting on his lap, the softness of her palm against his cheek, and the way her hug landed—not on his body—but somewhere in the center of his chest.
He let out a sigh as he entered his room and slumped onto his bed.
Was this how it began?
This quiet kind of madness?
---
The next day at college, everything looked normal.
Too normal.
The campus noise, the clutter of laughter and movement, the chalk dust in the air—it was all the same. But they weren't.
She spotted him from a distance.
He was standing near the canteen, talking to someone, but his eyes kept searching the crowd. When their gazes met, it was brief—but there was recognition, a spark, a shift in the air between them.
Later, during class, they didn't sit together.
They didn't need to.
Their proximity had already etched itself into their skin like sea breeze.
---
Aditi noticed it too.
Aanya was spacing out more than usual, biting her lip, playing with her pen when no one was talking.
Aditi nudged her gently. "You alright?"
Aanya blinked. "Yeah… just a bit tired."
But her smile gave her away.
Aditi stared at her for a few seconds longer than necessary, then whispered, "He makes you happy, doesn't he?"
Aanya didn't answer.
She just smiled again.
Aditi didn't push further. She understood now. Her protectiveness remained, but the doubt had dissolved into something softer—acceptance.
---
That night, he messaged her.
Him: "I still can't believe yesterday happened. You didn't feel real."
She stared at her screen, heart slowly spiraling into her stomach.
Aanya: "I was about to say the same. It didn't feel like real life."
Him: "Then what did it feel like?"
Aanya: "Like a scene I wouldn't want to end."
He stared at her message for a long, long time.
And for the first time… he didn't reply back immediately.
Because for the first time, he didn't trust his words to carry the weight of what he felt.