The silence after that didn't last long.
Aanya broke it the way she always did—casually, like nothing heavy had just happened at all.
"I'm done," she said, pushing her plate slightly away.
Sagnik looked at her.
"Finished?"
She nodded.
Then added, after a second:
"And I think I'm officially in the 'don't let me make financial decisions' phase."
That made him exhale through his nose.
A small laugh. Barely there.
"Noted."
Aanya immediately pointed at him.
"Don't use that tone."
"What tone."
"That 'I was right' tone."
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking it loudly."
He didn't deny it.
Which somehow annoyed her more.
She stood up first, a little slower than usual, catching the edge of the table for balance without making it obvious.
Sagnik noticed anyway.
He stood too.
"You okay?" he asked.
Aanya looked at him like the question was unnecessary.
Then shrugged.
"I'm great."
A beat.
Then, softer:
"I just like things a bit more than usual right now."
That didn't clarify anything.
But it didn't feel like it needed to.
They paid.
Not a discussion. Just a simple conclusion that dinner had already been decided long before money changed hands.
Outside, the air felt cooler.
The streetlights had started to take over the daylight properly now, the campus edge shifting into evening rhythm.
They walked without speaking for a while.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because Aanya was slightly less precise with her thoughts now, and Sagnik was slightly more careful with his.
That combination created silence.
Aanya kicked a small stone off the path.
It bounced once.
She watched it for a second too long.
Then said, casually:
"Your place."
Sagnik glanced at her.
"You're deciding that too now?"
"I already decided it earlier. I just forgot to announce it."
"That's not how memory works."
"It is tonight."
He didn't argue further.
Because she was already walking in that direction anyway.
His place wasn't far.
So she didn't hesitate when they reached it.
Just followed him up like it was part of the same sequence of decisions that started at coffee and somehow ended here.
Inside, the space felt warmer than outside.
Smaller too.
Familiar in a way that didn't demand attention.
Aanya stepped in first, looking around briefly like she was confirming it was still the same place she remembered.
Then immediately dropped onto the beanbag like she owned gravity.
"This is better," she said.
"You say that every time you come here."
"Because it's always true."
Sagnik closed the door behind them.
Locked it.
Turned back.
Aanya had already pulled her knees up slightly, phone in hand again—but not really looking at it.
Just holding it.
Like a habit.
Then she looked up at him.
Expression softer now.
Less performative.
More present.
"I'm staying five minutes," she said.
Sagnik raised an eyebrow.
"You always say that."
"And then I leave."
"You never leave in five minutes."
Aanya smiled.
"Then don't believe me."
A pause settled.
Not heavy.
Just settling.
Sagnik leaned against the table for a moment.
Watching her.
Not studying.
Not analyzing.
Just noticing.
Aanya tilted her head slightly.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's your second lie today."
"I don't lie."
"You do. Quietly."
He didn't respond.
Because she was half-right.
Aanya stretched slightly, letting out a small breath.
Then, almost absentmindedly:
"Your room is… safe."
Sagnik looked at her.
She didn't elaborate.
Didn't need to.
And for some reason, that sentence stayed in the room longer than anything else that evening had.
Not romantic.
Not dramatic.
Just honest in a way she probably wouldn't fully repeat tomorrow.
Aanya patted the beanbag beside her.
"Come sit," she said.
Not a request.
Not a demand.
Just like everything else she had said that night—
a decision waiting to be accepted.