For weeks, Ashaas and Arjun's world had felt untouchable — filled with laughter, quiet rituals, and the warmth of two people finally finding a rhythm together. But love, Ashaas knew from experience, wasn't tested in moments of bliss. It was tested in moments of strain.
The strain came quietly, at first. Arjun had taken on more photography contracts than he could manage, and Ashaas's event calendar was bursting with bookings. Their time together shrank into snatches — hurried dinners, quick phone calls, late-night messages when exhaustion weighed heavier than words.
One evening, Ashaas arrived at Arjun's studio unannounced, carrying takeout in her hands. She found him hunched over his desk, editing photographs with dark circles under his eyes.
"You forgot dinner again," she said softly, setting the bag down.
He looked up, startled, then sighed. "I didn't forget. I just… I couldn't stop."
She walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Arjun, you're burning yourself out. You can't be everything to everyone all the time."
He looked at her then — really looked. "And you can?"
The words stung more than she expected.
Her voice trembled. "That's not fair. You know how much I give to my work. But I still make time for us."
"I know," he said, his tone softer now, regret creeping in. "I just… I don't want to fail you."
Her heart ached. She knew the fear he carried — that he would fall short, that she would see him as not enough. She had once felt the same. But instead of saying it, she pulled away, unsure how to bridge the gap.
That night, for the first time since they'd begun, she left without staying.
---
Meanwhile, Neel was living with his own storm.
The more he saw of Ashaas and Arjun — in photographs online, in fleeting mentions from mutual friends — the heavier his regret became. It wasn't jealousy in the shallow sense. It was the recognition that Arjun was giving Ashaas what Neel never had: stability, respect, and a love untainted by hesitation.
Sophia noticed the distance. She noticed the way his eyes sometimes wandered when her laughter didn't match Ashaas's memory, the way his silence stretched longer than it used to. She didn't confront him — not yet — but the weight hung between them like an unspoken truth.
One evening, after Sophia had gone to bed, Neel sat alone in his café. He typed a message to Ashaas — I miss you. I think I made the biggest mistake of my life. His thumb hovered over the send button, his chest pounding.
He didn't send it. But the fact that he had written it at all terrified him.
---
Back in her apartment, Ashaas lay awake replaying Arjun's words. She knew conflict was natural, but the fear that crept into her heart was familiar — the fear of being too much for someone, of demanding more than they could give.
The next day, Arjun showed up at her door, rain-soaked and disheveled. Without a word, he wrapped her in his arms.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I was scared. Scared of losing you before I even had you."
Her throat tightened, tears stinging her eyes. "Then don't push me away. I don't need perfect, Arjun. I just need you — even the tired, messy, overwhelmed you."
He pulled back to look at her, his eyes searching. "So, you're not leaving?"
"Not unless you tell me to," she said with a trembling smile.
He kissed her then, not with the ease of their early days, but with desperation, with confession, with a promise he couldn't yet put into words.
And somewhere across the city, Neel sat in silence, staring at the unsent message on his phone, knowing that one confession had already slipped too far out of his reach.