She wasn't expecting it.
But she had been waiting for it.
The room was quiet—too quiet for a body that felt heavy and feverish. Aakrati lay curled on her bed, phone face-down beside her, trying to sleep while her thoughts refused to rest. Being sick made everything louder: the ache in her head, the silence of the room, and the memory of him standing there earlier that day.
Then her phone buzzed.
She turned it over slowly, almost afraid of disappointing herself.
Unknown Contact:
Hey. How are you feeling now?
Her heart skipped.
She replied instantly—far too instantly for someone who was "not a text person."
Aakrati:
A little better. Still weak though.
Three dots appeared.
Arsh:
I thought so. You looked pale today. I noticed you didn't eat much either.
She paused.
Noticed?
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Aakrati:
You noticed that?
Arsh:
I notice a lot of things about you.
Her breath caught. No one had ever said something like that to her—not so casually, not so sincerely.
The conversation flowed without effort after that.
He asked about her health, reminded her to drink water, told her not to skip meals. She teased him lightly for acting like a doctor. He laughed, told her he couldn't help it—low BP people had to look out for each other.
Then, without warning, he said:
Arsh:
You know, you're much more capable than you think.
She blinked at the screen.
Aakrati:
I'm really not.
Arsh:
You are. You handle work that isn't even yours. You stay late without complaining. And you pretend you don't care—but you care more than anyone in that office.
Her chest tightened.
For the first time, she felt seen.
Not judged.
Not misunderstood.
Seen.
They talked for hours—six of them, without realizing when time slipped through their fingers. She texted while sipping soup. He texted while driving, stopping at signals just to reply. He sent voice notes when typing became difficult. She laughed softly into her pillow, trying not to cough.
When he finally said goodnight, she stared at the screen long after.
Sleep came gently that night.
Too gently.
Because at 4:07 a.m., her phone buzzed again.
Arsh:
Good morning.
Her eyes flew open.
She stared at the message, half-asleep, half-smiling.
Aakrati:
It's 4 a.m. What are you trying to do?
The reply came instantly.
Arsh:
Move forward.
Her fingers trembled.
Aakrati:
Forward… how?
There was a pause this time.
Long enough for her heart to race.
Then—
Arsh:
Into a relationship.
The world stopped.
Her sickness, her doubts, her fears—all went silent at once.
She sat up in bed, shocked, wide awake, staring at the words that had changed everything.
Because for the first time in her life…
someone hadn't just noticed her.
They had chosen her.