Sameer never believed silence could be loud—
until Anjum stopped replying.
Three unread messages.
One missed call.
And a growing heaviness in his chest that refused to leave.
The city outside his apartment was alive—horns, lights, people rushing somewhere—but inside him, everything felt paused. Sameer stood near the window, phone in hand, staring at the last message he had sent her.
"Did I say something wrong?"
No reply.
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't hurt.
He was afraid.
Afraid that this—whatever was growing between them—might disappear before it was even given a name.
Sameer wasn't the kind of man who chased feelings blindly. He had learned early in life that attachment came with a price. People left. Promises broke. And expectations only made the fall harder.
Yet Anjum was different.
She hadn't tried to impress him.
She hadn't pretended to be strong.
She had simply been… real.
And that was dangerous.
Anjum sat on the edge of her bed, phone face down beside her. The room was dim, lit only by the soft yellow lamp on her side table. Outside, rain tapped gently against the window—slow, patient, relentless.
Just like her thoughts.
She knew Sameer was waiting.
She knew he deserved an answer.
But some truths were harder to say than silence.
Her mother's words echoed in her mind from earlier that evening.
"You don't get to choose love, Anjum. Life chooses responsibility for you."
Anjum had grown up hearing that sentence in different forms. As a daughter. As a woman. As someone expected to adjust.
Sameer represented something else.
Choice.
And choice scared her.
She picked up her phone, unlocked it, and read his messages again. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, trembling.
If I let him in… will I lose myself again?
Her past wasn't just a memory—it was a wound that hadn't fully healed. Trust had once cost her everything.
She inhaled deeply and typed.
"I'm sorry. I needed time."
She stared at the message for a full minute before sending it.
The moment she did, her phone buzzed.
Immediately.
Sameer.
"Can we talk?"
Her heart skipped.
"Now?" she replied.
"Yes. Please."
She closed her eyes.
This was the moment she had been running from.
They met at the same café again—unplanned, yet inevitable.
Sameer arrived first. He always did.
When Anjum walked in, he stood instinctively, just like before. But this time, the air between them felt heavier. More fragile.
She looked tired. Not physically—emotionally.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," he replied, searching her face for answers she hadn't yet spoken.
They sat.
No small talk.
No pretending.
"I didn't ignore you because I don't care," Anjum said finally. "I ignored you because I care too much."
Sameer's jaw tightened slightly. "That's not easier to hear."
"I know." She folded her hands together. "But it's the truth."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. "You don't owe me explanations."
"I want to give you one," she said. "Before this goes any further."
He nodded.
She looked at him, really looked at him. "I've been hurt before. Not in a dramatic way. In the quiet kind. The kind that changes how you see people."
Sameer listened without interrupting.
"I don't fall easily," she continued. "And when I do, I lose control. That terrifies me."
"So what are you saying?" he asked gently.
"That being with you feels like standing on the edge of something beautiful… and dangerous."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Most real things are."
She shook her head. "I'm not sure I'm ready."
The words hung between them.
Sameer didn't argue.
Didn't convince.
Didn't push.
Instead, he said something unexpected.
"Then don't be ready."
She blinked. "What?"
"We don't need labels," he said calmly. "We don't need promises. Just honesty."
She studied him, confused. "You're okay with uncertainty?"
"No," he admitted. "But I'm more afraid of losing you without trying."
That hit her harder than she expected.
For a moment, she forgot every rule she had built to protect herself.
And that scared her even more.
Outside, the rain stopped.
Inside, something shifted.
Anjum stood up. "I should go."
Sameer stood too. "Okay."
No drama.
No pressure.
At the door, she paused.
"Sameer?"
"Yes?"
"If I stay… things will change."
He met her eyes. "I'm counting on it."
She hesitated for half a second—
Then she hugged him.
Not tight.
Not desperate.
Just enough to say I'm here.
When she pulled away, her eyes were unreadable.
"I don't know what this is yet," she said.
He smiled softly. "Me neither."
She walked out into the night, leaving Sameer standing there with a strange feeling in his chest.
Hope.
And somewhere deep inside, a warning—
This story wouldn't be easy.
Because love was no longer the only thing involved.
A decision was coming.