Sometimes, the silence inside a library can scream—especially when the noise inside your head drowns out everything else.
Tanvi scanned the library from one corner to another. Only two people were there today: the librarian… and Kartik.
Kartik sat at his usual spot, by the window, lost in his notes. Tanvi looked at him—and like a flash, that night returned. The slap. The scream. And yet, Kartik stayed… not with anger, not with judgment, just quiet presence.
No guy had ever looked at her that way before. Not like she was a thing, but like she was… human.
For the first time, there was no inner conflict. There was fear, yes—but layered beneath it, something soft. Something that felt like safety.
She ignored the voice in her head. And walked over to Kartik.
She sat down beside him—very close, without a word.
Kartik looked up. Surprised, but said nothing.
Seconds passed in silence.
Then Tanvi spoke:
> "Kartik… listen."
He offered a faint smile. "Yeah?"
> "About last night… thanks. And… sorry."
Kartik put his pen down, took a deep breath, and said:
> "It's okay. Maybe I was at fault too. I should've brought a female friend. But… honestly, no one said yes. The moment they heard your name, they all said 'no'. And at that hour… no sir, no ma'am was available. So… I came."
> "If I hurt you by touching you… I'm sorry."
Tanvi remained silent.
That one line—"They all said no the moment they heard your name"—hit an old fracture in her heart.
But Kartik hadn't said it in defense. Just the truth. And somehow, that truth didn't break her. It… stitched something instead.
> "Would you… like to get ice cream after the library?" Tanvi asked.
Kartik looked puzzled. Ice cream?
There was doubt on his face—but for the first time, no hostility in hers. Only an open invitation.
> "Sure…" he said, smiling softly.
---
Riverbank Moments
Just a hundred meters from campus, a small river flowed quietly. They walked there without saying much, holding their cones. Tanvi sat on a stone by the bank. Her face held a strange calm.
She untied her hair and let her eyes follow the flowing water—as if searching for something.
> "Why am I like this, Kartik?"
He said nothing. Just listened—without judgment.
> "I've been scared of boys since I was a kid… some touched me the wrong way, others made me a joke. And when I reacted, people called me an attention-seeker, a psycho, or just a spoiled brat. In college, one guy made a joke about my trauma… I snapped. I lost control. Brought a knife."
Kartik looked at her. There was no fear in his green eyes. Only a quiet understanding of raw, wounded truth.
Tanvi looked straight into his eyes.
> "All guys are the same. I've only ever been used… every single time. But last night… you didn't leave."
Kartik didn't take her hand. Didn't say anything grand or dramatic.
He simply replied in a calm, gentle voice:
> "I stayed… only because you had no one else. That's all. I'm not 'special'… just maybe 'safe'."
Tanvi looked at him.
For a moment, her face was blank. Then—she let out a small laugh.
> "You're weird, Kartik."
Kartik smiled. Then extended his hand:
> "Friends? No expectations. Just listening, understanding… and maybe sharing ice cream sometimes."
Tanvi looked at that hand. There were no red flags. No hidden agendas. Just warmth.
> "Okay… friends," she said, finally shaking it.
---
Chapter End
That handshake wasn't a promise. But it was a step toward healing—a place where trust was fragile, but real.
For the first time, Tanvi sat beside a boy by the riverbank… without fear, without a mask.
And Kartik—he hadn't tried to fix her.
He had simply made sure she didn't fall.