The sky was painted in hues of lilac and amber as Aanya sat cross-legged on her bed, her hair still damp from a quick shower. The playlist humming softly in the background was one she hadn't touched in months, yet today it felt right. Everything about today felt unfamiliar and familiar all at once — like flipping through an old book and finding new meaning in the same pages.
She had just come back from college a couple of hours ago.
She stared at her phone — not waiting for a message exactly, but hoping one might come. Something ordinary, something dumb, maybe even something pointless. Just something from him.
She caught herself smiling without realizing.
That day, he had held her hand.
He had wiped sauce from her face.
He had taken her to a beach, not as a friend, not as a classmate — just… the two of them.
There was a kind of closeness in that shared silence, in that warm breeze brushing past their hair, in the golden light that washed over them as they sat inches apart on the sand. There had been something between them. Something unspoken, undeniable.
She pulled her legs close and hugged her knees.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Aditi's voice echoed in her head. "Don't get too used to the warmth if you're not ready to carry the fire."
Was she ready?
Her heart did ache a little more than usual today. But it wasn't the kind of ache that scared her — it was the kind that made her feel alive.
She hadn't texted him either. She wanted to. Maybe he was thinking about her too. Maybe he was confused. Or maybe he was just letting himself feel, like she was.
And she wondered…
If love ever entered slowly, like this — on tiptoes, not barging in like everyone says it does.
The clock ticked past 11:47 PM, and she was lying on her bed, staring at the glow of her phone screen. The light danced on the ceiling fan above as her thumb hovered over his chat window.
"Hey, are you up?"
She hit send. The message had no weight, no pressure. Just a whisper into the silence.
She almost regretted sending it—until three dots blinked into existence.
"Yeah. Was just thinking about… stuff."
Her heart did a small, unfamiliar flip.
"Stuff?"
"Yeah. Just today. And yesterday. The wraps were good."
She chuckled. He had always been that guy — saying the most disarming things with no dramatic flair. But tonight… she liked that. It felt real.
"Yeah, and you still owe me another espresso. For sitting through your tragic playlist."
"It's not tragic. It's emotionally deep."
"Exactly. Tragic."
There was a pause. She could almost imagine him smiling.
Then came his message — slower, measured.
"You looked really happy at the beach."
Her heart slowed.
"I was."
"I noticed."
Silence stretched across the thread.
And then…
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Did it… feel different? To you?"
She stared at the message for a long time. Her fingers hesitated before typing.
"Yeah. It did."
No more words. No need for them right now.
A minute later, his final message blinked on the screen.
"Okay. Goodnight, Aanya."
"Goodnight."
She put her phone aside and stared at the ceiling again, this time with a strange calmness tugging at her. For the first time, the quiet didn't feel empty. It felt full — of moments, feelings, and a story slowly unfolding.