The rain hadn't stopped since morning. The streets were slick and gray, the city humming faintly like a distant engine refusing to die. Dhruve sat in his car, fingers loosely resting on the steering wheel, watching people rush by through the misted windshield. He didn't know where he was going — or maybe he did, and just didn't want to admit it.
He exhaled, fogging up the glass."Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I should've just stayed home."
But something in him — that twisted pull of curiosity and unfinished business — made him take that left turn toward the part of the city he hadn't visited in months.
A café sat quietly on the corner, the same one where he and Priya used to go when words still meant something between them. He almost drove past, but fate had a cruel sense of humor. Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw her — Priya. Same posture, same way she stirred her coffee, her hair tucked behind her ear like she used to do when she was nervous.
For a moment, the air in his chest turned heavy. He froze, caught between the instinct to hide and the ache to look longer. She wasn't alone. Across the table sat another man — the same one from the photos he once blackmailed her with.And they were laughing.
Not the nervous, fake laugh he used to hear from her when she tried to keep peace — this was lighter. Real. Free.
Something in Dhruve's stomach twisted. He hated the way it hurt.He'd told himself he was over it — that he didn't care. But the human heart, that damn organ, doesn't work like a switch. It bleeds quietly, long after you think the wound's gone.
He parked, sat there, watching her smile. Every smile felt like a jab.He wanted to laugh too. Maybe scream. Or just walk in, throw some clever line that would freeze her heart the way she'd frozen his once.But he didn't.He just sat — a silent spectator in his own tragedy.
His phone buzzed.
Anya:"Where are you? You didn't reply all day. You okay?"Anya:"I saw you online last night but didn't message. I just… couldn't sleep."
Dhruve sighed. He liked Anya. She was wild, unpredictable, intoxicating. But lately, something about her had begun to scare him. The way she'd show up outside his apartment unannounced. The way she stared, like she could see through his skin and into the part of him that was still broken.
He typed a reply — "Yeah, I'm fine. Just out. Will text later."He didn't send it. He just stared at it, then deleted the message.
Outside, Priya got up. Her hand brushed against her boyfriend's arm — casual, affectionate.Dhruve looked away."Damn it," he whispered. His throat burned. He felt stupid — standing there like a ghost, watching life move on without him.
He leaned back against the seat, eyes closed. For a second, memories came flooding back — the nights they fought, the apologies that never reached the heart, the laughter that faded too fast. All those tiny, fragile things that made love both a dream and a curse.
He opened his eyes.In the rearview mirror, he saw himself — tired, older, emptier.He didn't hate Priya anymore. Not really. What he hated was how much of himself he'd lost trying to love her. How much of that pain still clung to him like a shadow.
The rain softened, turning into a drizzle. He started the engine and drove away, the world outside blurring into smudged lights and reflections.
He didn't go home. He ended up at the old park instead — the one by the river. He used to come here as a kid, back when things were simpler. He sat on a bench, listening to the water, letting the silence stretch until it began to hurt less.
His phone rang again.Anya.
He let it ring once, twice, then picked up."Hey," he said quietly.Her voice cracked through the speaker — soft but heavy. "You sound… off. Did something happen?""Nothing," he lied. "Just tired.""Don't lie to me, Dhruve. I can hear it."He smiled faintly. "You hear too much.""Then tell me what's wrong."He hesitated. The truth was right there, but what was the point? She wouldn't understand — no one really could.
So he said, "Nothing's wrong. Just… the world feels too loud tonight."She didn't reply for a moment. Then softly: "Then let me be quiet with you."
Something in those words broke him a little. He didn't know why. Maybe because it was the first time in a long while someone didn't try to fix him — they just stayed.
He didn't say anything. They sat there in silence, the sound of rain filling the space between their breaths.
But deep down, Dhruve knew — the unraveling had begun.Not from anger, not from revenge — but from the quiet realization that the person he had become wasn't the person he wanted to be.
The ghosts of his past still whispered, and the people around him still blurred into smoke.But somewhere in that lonely night, for the first time, he didn't want to destroy anymore.He just wanted to feel alive again.