Dhruve
The mornings had become slower.He used to wake up early — gym, coffee, maybe a few minutes of news — pretending to have a routine that meant something.Now, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling fan slicing the air above him, the hum filling the silence.
His apartment looked like a man's mind after a storm — cluttered, unfinished, half-lived.A cup of stale coffee sat on the table.Laundry in a chair.A painting still wrapped in brown paper, never hung.
He didn't even know why he bought it. Maybe he thought art could make the room feel less empty.
But nothing could.
Even his music sounded dull now.Every song reminded him of something — or someone.
He went to work, but even there, he wasn't himself.Colleagues noticed."Hey, you good, man?""Yeah," he'd answer, forcing a half-smile. "Just tired."
But everyone knew that tired meant something else.
He'd catch himself glancing at his phone between meetings, hoping — stupidly — for a message that would never come.And when he found nothing, he'd tell himself he didn't care.
He was lying, of course.
That night, he took a walk — no destination, just the city swallowing him.The streets were wet, the air heavy with the smell of rain and petrol.He passed by a café with warm lights spilling out the windows, people laughing inside.
For a second, he thought he saw her — the shape of her hair, the way she leaned on the counter.He stopped walking.But when he looked again, it wasn't her. Just some stranger, with the same tired eyes.
He almost laughed."Damn, I'm losing it," he muttered.
Riya
Her days had started blending into one another.Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
But something had changed quietly inside her.A kind of anger, subtle but steady — not toward him, but toward herself, for waiting.
She'd catch herself replaying their last talk in her mind, dissecting every word.He said he didn't want to hurt her.But wasn't this hurting her more?
The way he walked away, the silence that followed — it wasn't protection. It was punishment.
That thought made her chest tighten.
Late one night, she went to the rooftop of her building.The city stretched out below, a mess of lights and noise.She closed her eyes, let the wind hit her face, and whispered, "You can't run from everything, Dhruve."
She didn't expect him to hear it, but saying it out loud felt like reclaiming something — her own strength, maybe.
Dhruve
He sat on his balcony that same night, staring at the same sky.The city felt smaller, like everything was closing in.
He thought about calling her again.He even picked up the phone.But what would he say?Hey, I miss you?No. That would make it real.
Instead, he opened a blank note and started typing, not to send — just to get it out of his system.
"You think I'm strong, but I'm not. I just pretend better than most.I miss the way you made silence feel comfortable.I miss your damn sarcasm. I even miss you arguing with me over stupid things like how I drink my coffee.I thought letting you go was protecting you.Maybe I was just protecting myself from feeling again."
He stopped.Read it twice.Deleted it.
He stared at the black screen, his reflection faint in the glass — eyes tired, beard rough, heart somewhere between guilt and longing.
Riya
The next morning, she found herself walking near his neighborhood without planning to.She told herself she just needed fresh air.But when she reached his street, her steps slowed.
His apartment building stood there — grey, familiar, distant.She almost walked past it.Almost.
Then she stopped, looked up, and smiled sadly to herself.
"Still too proud, huh?" she murmured.
She wanted to ring the bell. To just see him once, not to fix anything, but to understand what broke.But she didn't.She just stood there for a moment longer, then turned away.
Dhruve
From his balcony, a flicker of movement caught his eye — a woman walking down the street, her hair damp, her steps slow.For a split second, he thought… no, it couldn't be.
But his heart still jumped.
He leaned forward, almost calling out.Then she disappeared into the corner of the street.
The rain started again, soft and cruel.
He whispered to the empty air,"If that was you, Riya… maybe it's better I didn't stop you."
Both carried the same thought that night —that maybe, love doesn't always vanish with distance.Sometimes it just hides quietly, waiting for the day one of them stops running.