Dhruve woke before the sun did.
For a moment, he just lay there—eyes half-open, brain slow, body warm under the blanket. The room was dim, painted in that soft blue light that only exists right before dawn. And beside him, curled slightly toward his pillow, was Rhea.
Her hair was a mess.Her breathing was slow and uneven—like she had cried herself to sleep and the echoes still lingered.And her hand… it was still resting lightly on the back of his wrist, as if her body refused to let go even when her mind might've wanted to.
Dhruve stared at their hands for a few seconds.
Shit… since when did something this small start feeling this big?
Last night had been too real. No arguments, no masks. Just two tired, broken people who finally stopped running.
He lifted his head a little and watched her face.No makeup.No forced smile.Just Rhea — the woman who once shattered him, the woman who was now trying so hard not to break again.
And somehow, knowing all this… didn't make him angry.
It made him ache.
He gently pulled his wrist free so he wouldn't wake her, but the second he moved, she stirred — eyelids fluttering, fingers reaching subconsciously for the warmth she lost.
Her voice came out cracked:
"Dhruve…?"
He paused halfway out of the bed.Shit.Caught.
"Yeah," he whispered, forcing a small smile. "I'm here."
She blinked slowly, trying to gather herself. A faint panic flickered in her eyes — the kind a person has when they expect regret.
"Did I… say something weird last night?" she asked quietly.
"A little," he teased, just to ease her tension. "You complained that my shoulder is too hard."
She let out a breathy laugh, embarrassed. "Idiot."
"Good morning to you too."
And just like that — the air between them wasn't heavy.Not completely.Still complicated, sure. But no longer suffocating.
Rhea sat up, pulling the blanket around herself.
Her eyes were puffy. Her voice still fragile. But when she looked at him, really looked, her expression softened.
"Thank you… for staying."
Dhruve didn't say "you're welcome."He didn't say "I had to."He didn't say "I'm still angry."
Instead, he sat back on the edge of the bed and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
"You weren't supposed to go through that alone."
Her lips parted slightly — surprised, moved, and scared all at once.
"Dhruve," she whispered, "don't say things you'll take back later."
He almost laughed at the irony.
"Trust me," he said softly, "if I say something now, it's because I mean it."
For a moment, it felt like she might cry again. She reached up and cupped his cheek — a gentle, hesitant touch. He didn't pull away.
"What happened to us?" she whispered.
"Life," he murmured. "Life happened… and we weren't ready."
Her thumb traced the edge of his jaw, almost unconsciously.Dhruve felt a shiver run down his spine — not sexual, but painfully emotional.
She leaned forward, slowly, like she was giving him every chance to pull back.He didn't.
Their lips touched — soft, brief, almost like a memory brushing against the present.
A small, tear-filled exhale escaped her.Dhruve closed his eyes.
It wasn't a lovers' kiss.It was a broken kiss — the kind that comes from two people who don't know what they are anymore but can't pretend they feel nothing.
When they finally pulled apart, neither spoke for a long time.
The world outside was waking up — traffic sounds, a dog barking, the faint morning breeze slipping through the balcony door.
Dhruve stood and stretched, trying to pull himself together. "I'll make coffee."
"Okay…" Rhea whispered, watching him walk away like she was afraid he would disappear if she blinked.
THE CONFLICT ARRIVES
When Dhruve returned with two mugs, Rhea was sitting on the balcony, hugging her knees. The city stretched out in front of them — noisy, messy, alive. A perfect contrast to the silence inside her chest.
He handed her the mug and sat beside her.
For a while, they just drank in silence.
Until Rhea muttered:
"Dhruve… something's coming, isn't it?"
He paused mid-sip.
"What makes you say that?"
"You," she said honestly. "You're… calm. Too calm. Like you're bracing yourself."
Dhruve stared at the city, jaw tightening.
He wasn't planning to tell her — not yet.But last night, while she slept, his phone had buzzed with a notification.
A message from the journalist.The same journalist who exposed the cheating scandal months ago.
One line:
"We need to talk. It's urgent."
And he had a pretty damn good idea what it was about — because Rhea's ex's company was back in the news. Something messy. Something public. Something that could drag the three of them back into a storm they barely survived.
He set his mug down.
"Rhea…"His voice was quieter now.Serious.
She turned toward him, nervous.
"There's something I didn't want to drop on you this morning," he said. "But yeah… something's coming."
She swallowed. "Is it about… us?"
"No," he said. "Not directly. But it might affect us."
Her fingers tightened around the mug.
"Are we going to be okay?" she whispered.
Dhruve looked at her — really looked.
At the fear.At the hope.At the girl who had once broken him and the woman who was trying so damn hard to hold him now.
He reached out and squeezed her hand gently.
"We'll handle it," he said. "Together."
Rhea closed her eyes in relief — like that single word together was enough to steady her.
And maybe… it was.
Because for the first time in a long time, Dhruve wasn't running from his past.
He was walking toward a future — messy, uncertain, but real — with someone who was finally ready to face it with him.