Chapter 6 – The Distance Between Two Windows
The morning light in Brno was unusually soft.
It filtered through the thin curtains like it was afraid to wake them. The city outside breathed in slow rhythms — distant wheels over stone roads, the occasional bird, the hush of clouds gathering. Inside the hotel room, silence stretched between two people who hadn't really slept.
Ansh sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders slouched. His gloves were already on. It wasn't the cold. It hadn't been for a while.
Across the room, Elina was standing by the window, hair tied, back to him. She was watching the street like it might answer something she didn't know how to ask.
Neither of them mentioned what he had whispered last night.
Neither of them asked if the other had heard it.
It just… stayed in the air. Like a held breath.
Waiting to turn into something else.
"I checked the schedule," Elina said softly. "Next train to Vienna is at 11:25."
Ansh looked up, eyes dull. "Okay."
"We should leave by 10, maybe earlier. There's a café on the way to the station."
He nodded. That was all.
She didn't look at him when she zipped her bag.
And he didn't ask if she was okay.
At the café, the silence tasted like unspoken truths.
They ordered the same thing — black coffee, one croissant — and sat by the window.
Elina tore her croissant into small pieces but didn't eat them.
Ansh held his cup a little too tightly.
There were moments when their eyes met, but both looked away too quickly — as if afraid that holding the gaze would make something fall apart.
"You've gotten quieter," Elina said, finally.
Ansh raised a brow. "More than usual?"
"Yeah."
He looked outside. The sky was pale grey now, the kind of sky that never made promises.
"I think I'm just… tired of pretending I'm not tired."
Her expression didn't change. But she nodded once — the kind of nod people give when they understand more than they're allowed to admit.
The train station wasn't crowded.
A soft wind carried the scent of metal and old rain. People moved in low hums — dragging suitcases, holding maps, saying goodbyes in languages Ansh didn't recognize.
Platform 3.
Vienna. 11:25.
They stood side by side, tickets in hand, watching the train approach. Elina had wrapped a scarf around her neck — not because of the cold, but because her throat felt too bare.
"You okay?" Ansh asked, voice low.
She hesitated. "Are you?"
He didn't answer.
She didn't push.
The train pulled in, and they boarded without another word.
Their seats were by the window.
Ansh took the one closer to the aisle. Elina sat beside the glass. Neither said it, but maybe both needed a little space — not from each other, but from themselves.
The train began to move.
The city blurred behind them. Fields opened up like stories they hadn't told. Trees rushed past. A dog ran along the track fence for a moment, then disappeared.
Elina rested her head against the glass.
Ansh leaned back, closed his eyes.
Ten minutes passed like fog. Then twenty.
And then—
"You should stop hiding your hands from me," she said suddenly.
Ansh's eyes snapped open.
She wasn't looking at him. Her face was still turned toward the window. But her voice — it had a softness that hurt.
"I wasn't hiding them," he said, quietly defensive.
"You were. You are."
She turned now, gently. "Is it getting worse?"
He didn't answer.
But that silence said more than a hundred yeses.
"I don't know how to help you if you keep building walls," she whispered.
Ansh looked down. His gloves felt heavier than ever.
"I'm not asking for help."
"That's the problem."
For a moment, it felt like the train wasn't moving — like the world had paused, just for them.
He finally looked at her.
"I don't want to scare you."
"You already do."
She smiled, but it was cracked at the edges.
They didn't speak for the rest of the journey.
He turned his head away, staring blankly ahead.
She turned back to the window, a tear forming but refusing to fall.
From the outside, they looked like any other pair of travelers.
But inside — inside they were carrying a conversation without words.
Two windows. Two worlds.
And in the middle — silence louder than love.
[End of Chapter 6]