Anaya tried not to think about the call.
She told herself it was none of her business.
Aarav was free to talk to whoever he wanted.
This marriage was still a contract.
Nothing more.
So why did her chest feel tight every time she remembered the soft laughter on the other end of his phone?
---
She distracted herself with chores.
With work.
With anything that kept her from thinking.
But distraction doesn't erase feeling.
It only delays it.
---
That evening, Anaya sat in the living room, pretending to read while Aarav worked on his laptop nearby.
The silence felt heavier than usual.
"Who was that on the phone yesterday?" she asked suddenly.
The question surprised both of them.
Aarav looked up. "What?"
"The call," she said. "The woman."
He paused, then replied, "A colleague. Meera."
"Oh," she said quickly. "I was just… curious."
"Why?" he asked gently.
She swallowed. "No reason."
But they both knew that wasn't true.
---
"She's just a friend," he added.
Anaya nodded. "I didn't say she wasn't."
"But you were thinking it," he said softly.
She hesitated, then admitted, "Maybe."
He studied her face.
"You don't trust me?" he asked.
"I don't know how to trust *this*," she replied. "Because I don't know what *this* is."
He leaned back, thoughtful.
"That makes two of us," he said.
---
Later that night, Anaya stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection.
She didn't look different.
But she felt… insecure.
And she hated that.
She had promised herself she wouldn't become someone who waited.
Who wondered.
Who cared.
Yet here she was — doing all three.
---
In his room, Aarav replayed the conversation in his head.
He hadn't realized how deeply Anaya's silence had been affecting him.
He also hadn't expected jealousy.
Not from her.
Not when neither of them had admitted feelings.
And yet… it had been there.
Soft.
Unspoken.
But real.
---
The next day, Aarav came home to find Anaya in the kitchen.
She looked tired.
"Long day?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes."
"Did you eat?" he asked.
"No."
He frowned slightly. "I'll order something."
"You don't have to," she said.
"I want to," he replied.
She paused, then quietly said, "You're kinder lately."
"So are you," he replied.
"I don't feel kind," she said. "I feel confused."
"So do I," he admitted.
---
They ate together in silence.
Not awkward.
Not comfortable.
Just… full of things unsaid.
After a while, Aarav spoke.
"You don't have to pretend you don't care."
She looked up sharply. "What makes you think I care?"
"Because you asked," he said. "And because your silence feels heavy."
Her voice softened. "I don't know what I'm allowed to feel."
"Feelings don't need permission," he said quietly.
"That's not fair," she replied. "If I feel, I risk getting hurt."
"And if you don't," he said, "you risk staying empty."
She looked at him.
Really looked at him.
And for a moment, neither of them spoke.
---
That night, Anaya lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She wasn't angry.
She wasn't jealous.
She was… afraid.
Afraid of wanting something she wasn't sure she could have.
Afraid of hoping.
Afraid of losing.
---
In the other room, Aarav sat on the edge of his bed, hands clasped.
He had always believed love was a weakness.
Now he was starting to believe something worse.
It was unavoidable.
---
Neither of them said it.
Neither of them admitted it.
But something had shifted.
Not toward safety.
Not toward certainty.
But toward truth.
And truth, like hope, was dangerous.
------