The next day felt… different.
Not colder.
Not warmer.
Just heavier.
---
Anaya noticed it in the silence at breakfast.
Not the comfortable kind.
Not the shared kind.
The kind that felt like something was being avoided.
Aarav sat across from her, scrolling through his phone, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
"You're quiet," Anaya said.
"So are you," he replied.
"I'm thinking," she said.
"So am I," he said.
Neither of them said about what.
---
Later that afternoon, Anaya found herself restless.
She cleaned.
She reorganized.
She tried to read.
Nothing worked.
Her mind kept replaying the moment from the night before.
The touch.
The hesitation.
The almost.
---
That evening, Aarav came home later than usual.
"You're late," Anaya said.
"Yes," he replied. "Work."
"You said that yesterday too," she said softly.
He paused. "I didn't want to make things harder."
"By staying away?" she asked.
"Yes," he admitted.
"That doesn't make it easier," she said. "It makes it confusing."
He looked at her. "I don't know how to be near you without wanting more."
Her breath caught.
"That's not something you should say," she whispered.
"It's something I should admit," he replied.
---
They sat on opposite ends of the couch that night.
Not touching.
Not close.
Not distant enough to stop feeling each other's presence.
"I don't want this to end badly," Anaya said.
"Neither do I," Aarav replied.
"Then we need boundaries," she said.
He nodded. "We already crossed them."
"We can step back," she said.
He looked at her. "Can you?"
She hesitated.
"No," she admitted.
"Neither can I," he said.
---
That night, Anaya cried silently into her pillow.
Not because she was heartbroken.
Not because she was hurt.
But because she was scared.
Scared of wanting.
Scared of hoping.
Scared of losing something she wasn't even sure she was allowed to have.
---
In the other room, Aarav stood by the window, staring at the city lights.
He had built his life on control.
On logic.
On emotional distance.
And now…
He was losing all three.
Because of her.
And the worst part?
He didn't want them back.
---
The next morning, Anaya found a note on the kitchen counter.
> *I'll be late today. Don't wait up. — A*
Her chest tightened.
Not because he'd be late.
But because he had written it.
Because he had thought of her.
Because she had become someone he considered.
---
That evening, Anaya received a message from an unknown number.
**Meera:** Hi, this is Meera. Aarav's colleague. We met briefly at the office event last month.
Anaya stared at the screen.
Her heart dropped.
Not because of Meera.
But because of what the message meant.
That Aarav had talked about her.
That Aarav had shared her existence.
That Aarav had… let someone in.
---
She didn't reply immediately.
She waited.
Then replied simply:
**Anaya:** Hello.
A few seconds later:
**Meera:** I just wanted to say you're lucky. He speaks very highly of you.
Anaya's fingers trembled.
**Anaya:** He does?
**Meera:** Yes. He said you make him feel… different. In a good way.
Anaya closed her eyes.
This was not supposed to happen.
---
That night, Aarav came home to find Anaya sitting on the couch.
"Did you talk to Meera?" she asked.
He froze. "Yes."
"She messaged me," Anaya said.
He frowned. "I didn't ask her to."
"I know," she replied. "That's not the point."
"Then what is?" he asked.
"You talk about me," she said softly. "To other people."
"Yes," he replied. "Because you matter to me."
"That makes this real," she whispered.
"It already is," he said.
---
They stood facing each other.
No anger.
No accusations.
Just truth.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
"I'm afraid," Anaya said.
"So am I," Aarav replied.
"But I don't want to stop," she said.
"Neither do I," he said.
"And that's the problem," she whispered.
"No," he said. "That's the beginning."
---
They didn't touch.
They didn't move closer.
But something had shifted again.
Not toward distance.
Not toward safety.
But toward inevitability.
---
Because some connections don't fade when you step back.
They only grow louder.
---