Morning light spilled through the blinds, slicing thin gold lines across Dhruve's floor. He sat at his desk, staring at the cold cup of coffee that had been there since dawn. The words he'd written last night were still open in his journal.
"Some people don't fix you. They just sit beside you while you start fixing yourself."
It was poetic, maybe even true. But today, it felt heavier.
Because now, he couldn't stop thinking about Anya.About how her head had rested on his shoulder.About how easy it had felt — and how terrifying that was.
He rubbed his face, muttering under his breath. "Shit… this is getting complicated."
For years, his emotions had been a storm — predictable in their chaos. Anger, grief, resentment. They were safe; they made sense. But this? This quiet tenderness scared the hell out of him.
He didn't know how to love without bleeding anymore.
His phone buzzed.Anya:You up?He stared at it for a few seconds before typing back.Dhruve:Barely.Anya:Coffee or survival juice?Dhruve:Same thing.Anya:I'll bring both.
He smirked despite himself.
Half an hour later, she arrived with two cups of coffee and the same reckless energy he couldn't help but admire. She talked about work, about how her boss was "a sentient stress ball," and how she might just run away to the mountains someday.
Dhruve listened, half smiling, half lost in thought.
Then she caught him drifting again."Where do you go when your mind wanders like that?"
He hesitated. "Somewhere I shouldn't."
"Priya?" she asked gently.
He flinched. "You don't have to say her name."
"I know," she said softly. "But avoiding it doesn't erase it either."
That silence after her words… it hurt. Because she was right.
They went for a walk later that evening, the city glowing under the fading sun. The streets buzzed with life, laughter, noise — the kind of chaos that used to drown him. But walking beside her, it didn't feel so heavy.
At one point, she slipped her hand into his.It was casual. Natural.
But his chest tightened — not out of romance, but guilt.He didn't pull away though.And that made it worse.
Back at his place, she lingered at the door."Hey," she said, her tone light but eyes searching. "You don't have to be afraid of feeling something again."
Dhruve met her gaze, jaw tense. "You think that's what this is? Fear?"
"I think it's grief pretending to be loyalty," she said.
Her words hit deeper than she knew.
For a long moment, they just stood there — the air between them thick, loaded with things neither dared to say.
Then, almost instinctively, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
It wasn't passionate.It wasn't meant to be.It was… kind. Human.
"See you tomorrow," she whispered.
And then she was gone.
Dhruve stood frozen, his hand rising unconsciously to the spot where she'd kissed him. His heart felt strange — heavy and light at once.
He sat down, staring blankly at the wall.Inside him, two worlds collided — the one that still mourned Priya, and the one that was slowly starting to feel alive again.
He whispered to himself, almost in disbelief,"Damn it, I think I'm losing control again."
But somewhere deep down, another voice — quieter, softer — replied:Maybe that's how healing starts.
That night, Dhruve dreamed for the first time in months.Not of Priya leaving.Not of betrayal.But of walking — faceless, directionless — toward a faint light on the horizon.
It wasn't peace yet.But it was something close.