Dhruve woke before sunrise.
Not because he wanted to, but because his mind wouldn't stop running. The sky outside his window was still dark, the faintest line of pale blue trying to push through the night. He sat up on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair.
His chest felt… strange.
Not heavy.Not broken.Just different — like something inside him had shifted slightly, loosening old knots he'd held tight for years.
He exhaled slowly.
The memory of yesterday — the rain, the café, her voice — washed through him like a soft tide. He didn't push it away this time. The pain was still there, but muted, almost gentle. A bruise instead of a wound.
He stood, walked to the kitchen, and poured himself water. The glass trembled slightly in his hand. Not because he was weak… but because that kind of emotional release leaves your whole body confused.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes. "You really got thrown around, huh?"
He wasn't sure if he meant by her, or by his own heart.
Maybe both.
He stepped out onto the balcony. Morning mist floated above the sleeping streets. A stray dog stretched and yawned near a shuttered shop. A newspaper boy rode past on his cycle, the thump of papers hitting doorsteps echoing faintly.
Life moved forward — stupidly, stubbornly — no matter what fell apart.
Dhruve leaned against the railing, breathing in the cold air.
He thought about Riya again — but not the betrayal, not the bedroom scene, not the fire of rage that used to burn his insides.Instead, he remembered something small.
Her laugh.
Not the polite one she gave coworkers.Not the fake cheerful one she used when she was annoyed.
The real one — the one that came out when she couldn't help it. Loud, warm, slightly messy. The one that used to make him smile like an idiot.
"Shit," he whispered, a hand sliding over his face. "Why am I remembering that?"
But the answer was simple:
He wasn't hurting anymore.Not the same way.
And when pain loosens its grip, memories can finally walk freely — even the good ones.
It terrified him a little.It comforted him a little.It confused him a lot.
He shook his head and went back inside, trying to shake off the weird, nostalgic fog tightening around his ribs.
When he opened his laptop for work, the screen felt brighter than usual. Emails, deadlines, half-finished projects — it all felt distant, like background noise.
His mind kept drifting.
Back to her hands around her cup at the café.The slight tremor in her voice.The way she avoided his eyes until she finally couldn't.
There had been sincerity there.Not manipulation.Not excuses.Just raw, messy truth.
Maybe that was why yesterday hit him so hard.
It wasn't dramatic.It wasn't explosive.It was… human.
He suddenly realized he hadn't felt something "human" in a long time.
Not truly.
His revenge phase, his anger, his pain — all of that was survival.But now, standing on the other side, he wasn't surviving anymore.He was… existing again.
Slowly, quietly, almost awkwardly.
A soft buzz from his phone snapped him out of his thoughts.
A message from a coworker — casual, asking about a meeting briefing.
But for some reason, he stared at the screen longer than necessary.He realized how long it had been since he actually felt connected to anything.
Maybe he could start trying again.Not a big change.Not a dramatic transformation.
Just… trying.
He typed a reply.
Short, simple, polite — but sincere.That alone felt like effort.
Meanwhile…
Riya sat at her kitchen counter, hugging a mug of coffee she didn't really want. Her hair was messier than usual, tied in a loose knot that kept falling apart. She kept replaying every detail of yesterday — every glance, every hesitation, every unfinished sentence.
Her chest ached.
Not in the violent, collapsing way it did during the divorce.Not in the guilt-filled way it did when she realized what she'd destroyed.
This ache was quieter… but deeper.
She hadn't expected to miss him all over again.Not after all this time.
She ran her fingers along her wrist where the bracelet rested.A small, stupid piece of metal.Yet somehow heavier than her whole heart at the moment.
"Why now…?" she whispered.
Her apartment felt too clean, too empty.The silence pressed on her skin.
She realized something painfully simple:
Seeing Dhruve calm…Seeing him healed…Seeing him look at her without hatred…
It shattered something inside her that she didn't even know was still alive.
She wasn't sure what that meant yet.She wasn't sure she wanted to understand.
But one thing was clear —she couldn't pretend he didn't matter.
Not anymore.
Not ever.
Dhruve exhaled deeply as he shut his laptop.
For the first time in months, he felt… grounded.
Not happy.Not new.Not reborn.
Just grounded.
Like he finally had his feet on solid earth.
And somewhere, without knowing why, he whispered softly:
"Thank you… for yesterday."
Not to her.Not to himself.
To life, maybe.Or fate.Or just the strange truth that closure sometimes comes in the quietest moments.