The house felt quieter than usual.
Not because there was no sound — but because neither of them was speaking.
Anaya moved through the rooms like a guest in her own home. Aarav noticed it in the way she avoided his eyes, in how she chose the far end of the couch, in how she no longer lingered in shared spaces.
Distance had become their defense.
And it was hurting both of them.
---
One afternoon, Anaya was in the kitchen when Aarav entered.
"Do you want tea?" she asked automatically.
"Yes," he replied — then hesitated. "Actually… can we talk?"
Her hand froze mid-motion.
"About what?" she asked, though she already knew.
"About us," he said quietly.
She turned slowly to face him.
"There is no 'us,'" she said carefully. "There's a contract."
"There was," he corrected gently. "Now there's also something else."
She shook her head. "That's exactly the problem."
He stepped closer — not too close, just enough.
"You feel it too," he said. "You can't deny that."
She didn't answer immediately.
Then, "Feeling something doesn't mean I'm allowed to act on it."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because contracts don't protect hearts," she said. "And mine isn't strong enough to survive another mistake."
His expression softened.
"Who hurt you?" he asked.
She looked away. "That's not important."
"It is to me," he said quietly.
She hesitated — then whispered, "People who promised things they couldn't keep."
He absorbed that silently.
"I don't want to be one of them," he said.
"You already might be," she replied. "Not because you intend to hurt me — but because neither of us knows where this is going."
---
Later that evening, they sat on opposite sides of the living room.
Not out of anger.
Out of fear.
Anaya watched Aarav from the corner of her eye — the way he rubbed his forehead when he was thinking, the way he sighed without realizing it.
She wondered when she had started noticing these things.
And why.
---
Aarav, meanwhile, watched Anaya pretend to read the same page over and over.
He could tell when her mind wasn't on the words.
He could tell when she was somewhere else.
He could tell when she was struggling.
And the worst part was — he didn't know how to fix it.
---
That night, the power went out.
The house fell into sudden darkness.
"Anaya?" Aarav called.
"I'm here," she replied from the hallway.
He grabbed his phone flashlight and walked toward her.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Just startled."
They stood in the dim light, closer than they had been in days.
"You're shaking," he noticed.
"It's nothing," she replied.
But he gently placed his jacket around her shoulders.
Not dramatic.
Not romantic.
Just instinct.
And that was what scared her most.
---
She looked up at him. "You shouldn't do that."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I'll get used to it," she said softly.
"And that's bad?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered. "Because people don't stay."
He didn't respond immediately.
Then, "I'm not planning to leave."
"That's what everyone says," she replied.
"Not everyone means it," he said. "I do."
Her breath caught — just slightly.
She stepped back.
"I can't afford to believe you," she said.
"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "I'm asking you to let me show you."
Silence stretched between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Not empty.
Just full.
---
When the lights came back on, they were still standing there.
Neither had moved.
Neither had spoken.
But something had shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not suddenly.
Just… quietly.
---
Later that night, Anaya sat on her bed, replaying the moment.
The jacket.
His words.
His calm certainty.
She hated how much she wanted to believe him.
She hated how safe she had felt — even for a moment.
---
In his room, Aarav stared at the ceiling.
He hadn't meant to say it.
He hadn't meant to promise anything.
But he also hadn't lied.
He wasn't planning to leave.
And that realization surprised him as much as it scared him.
---
The next morning, they met in the kitchen again.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied.
There was no awkwardness.
No tension.
Just something unspoken.
Something fragile.
Something real.
And neither of them was ready to name it.
---