Riya didn't notice when it started happening.
It was never about the words — Dhruve wasn't the kind of man who said much. He just listened, and somehow that felt safer than talking to anyone else. The silence between them didn't feel empty anymore; it felt… alive.
At first, she thought she just liked his company — the calmness, the steadiness. But soon she caught herself glancing at the café door every morning, hoping he'd walk in. When he didn't, she'd tell herself, He's probably just busy.But her chest still felt heavier.
One evening, the café was half-empty. The soft hum of music played under the clinking of cups. Riya was sitting opposite Dhruve, pretending to scroll through her phone, but her eyes kept drifting up to him.
He was reading something on his laptop — serious, focused, his brows slightly furrowed. There was a small scar above his eyebrow. She'd never noticed it before.
"What happened there?" she asked suddenly.
Dhruve looked up. "Hmm?"
"The scar," she said, pointing.
"Oh." He smiled faintly. "I fell off a bike when I was seventeen. Tried to impress a girl."
"Did it work?"
"No," he said, laughing quietly. "She laughed at me instead."
Riya smiled, but her eyes softened. "Her loss."
He gave her a look — brief, unreadable — then went back to his laptop. But she saw the corners of his lips twitch upward.
Later that night, they closed the café together. The air outside was cool, the streetlights flickering faintly in the mist.
"Want me to walk you home?" Dhruve asked.
"You sure you're not busy pretending to be mysterious somewhere?" she teased.
He smirked. "That's a full-time job."
She laughed, and he joined in — not loudly, but genuinely. It was one of those simple, stupid laughs that came from nowhere but felt good anyway.
When they reached her building, she hesitated by the gate. "You know," she said softly, "you don't talk much, but… when you do, it feels like it matters."
Dhruve looked at her — really looked. Her eyes caught the glow of the streetlight, warm and unsure.
"Maybe I just don't like wasting words," he said.
She nodded, smiling faintly. "Then don't waste this moment either."
He blinked, caught off guard. For a second, the air felt thick between them.
Riya took a small step forward — not too close, but close enough that he could feel her breath when she said, "Good night, Dhruve."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, watching her until she disappeared inside.
That night, Riya couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face — tired, quiet, and a little broken, like a book she wanted to read but was scared to finish.
She turned over in bed, smiling to herself like an idiot. "Damn it, Riya," she muttered. "You're falling, aren't you?"
And in that small apartment, she laughed softly into her pillow — half in disbelief, half in fear.
Because she knew she was right.