Aanya slept for a long time.
Sagnik didn't know exactly how long.
He didn't move.
His arm remained around her waist, his other hand resting lightly against her back.
At some point, the room had become darker.
The last of the evening light had disappeared from the windows.
The only sound was the faint hum of the fan above them.
Aanya shifted slightly.
Sagnik looked down.
She was waking.
Her fingers moved first.
Then her head shifted against his chest.
For a few seconds, she remained still.
Perhaps she was remembering where she was.
Perhaps she already knew.
She slowly lifted her head.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
Aanya's face was still soft with sleep.
There were faint traces of dried tears near her eyes.
Sagnik noticed them.
He didn't mention them.
Aanya looked down.
Only then did she seem to realize that she was still sitting on him.
Her hands were still around his neck.
She slowly loosened them.
But she didn't immediately get up.
Sagnik didn't ask her to.
They simply sat there.
The silence between them had changed.
It wasn't the awkward silence of not knowing what to say.
It was the silence of knowing too much.
Aanya finally looked toward the table.
The sketchbook was still there.
Beside his bag.
Her eyes stayed on it for a moment.
Then she looked back at him.
"You really didn't want me to see it."
It wasn't a question.
Sagnik's expression changed slightly.
"No."
Aanya nodded.
She looked down at her hands.
"I thought you were just embarrassed."
A pause.
"I was."
She looked at him.
"But that wasn't the only reason."
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
She already knew.
Aanya swallowed.
"I didn't know."
Sagnik looked at her.
"Know what?"
"That you'd been carrying all of that."
His gaze dropped.
He didn't correct her.
Didn't ask her to explain what she meant.
Aanya looked toward the sketchbook again.
"I thought..."
She stopped.
Sagnik waited.
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
He almost smiled.
"You're doing it again."
She gave him a tired little smile.
"Maybe."
A pause.
Then she said quietly,
"I thought I was the only one who felt like this."
Sagnik's eyes lifted to hers.
The words stayed between them.
He didn't ask what this meant.
He knew.
And perhaps that was enough.
Aanya looked away.
"I shouldn't have opened it."
Sagnik was quiet for a moment.
"No."
She looked at him.
"I mean..."
He exhaled.
"I'm not angry."
"I know."
"Then why are you apologizing?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Because the real answer was difficult.
She wasn't apologizing because she had seen something she wasn't supposed to.
She was apologizing because she had seen something so deeply private—
and it had made her realize how much of him had existed quietly beside her.
How many times he had looked at her while she had been looking somewhere else.
How many moments she had thought were ordinary.
How many things he had never said.
Her voice came softly.
"Because I know it wasn't meant for me to see."
Sagnik looked at her for a long moment.
Then—
"Maybe."
Aanya frowned slightly.
He continued.
"But..."
He glanced toward the sketchbook.
"I don't think I can pretend you don't know anymore."
Something in her expression softened.
She looked at him again.
"No."
A pause.
"Neither can I."
Neither of them moved.
Then Aanya leaned forward.
Not into another hug this time.
She simply rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Sagnik closed his eyes.
His hand came up to the back of her head.
Neither spoke.
There was no need.
After a while, Aanya whispered,
"How long?"
His hand stilled.
She didn't elaborate.
She didn't have to.
He understood.
"Long enough."
She smiled faintly against his shoulder.
"That's not an answer."
"I know."
She lifted her head.
Their eyes met again.
For once, she didn't look embarrassed.
She looked overwhelmed.
But peaceful.
And Sagnik understood something then.
She wasn't looking at him like she had discovered something frightening.
She was looking at him like she had finally discovered something she had spent a very long time needing.
He reached up and gently wiped the last trace of moisture beneath her eye.
Aanya didn't flinch.
Didn't look away.
She simply let him.
Then she whispered,
"Thank you."
His brow furrowed.
"For what?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
He smiled faintly.
"Okay."
She smiled too.
They stayed there for another few minutes.
No explanation.
No promises.
No words that could change the shape of what they were.
But something had changed anyway.
Because the sketchbook had taken all the things Sagnik had hidden—
all the feelings he had carefully kept behind his walls—
and placed them where Aanya could finally see them.
And now that she had seen them,
neither of them could go back to pretending they didn't exist.
Eventually, Aanya glanced toward the clock.
"It's late."
"Yeah."
She stood slowly.
Sagnik watched her.
She walked toward the table.
Stopped beside the sketchbook.
Her fingers rested lightly on its cover.
For a second, she looked at it.
Then she looked back at him.
"I won't tell anyone."
"I know."
She nodded.
Then, after a moment—
"Can I look at it again sometime?"
Sagnik stared at her.
Not because he didn't understand.
Because he did.
He nodded.
"Yeah."
Aanya smiled.
A small, almost shy smile.
Then she picked up her bag.
And for the first time since she'd opened those pages—
she looked at him without wondering whether he felt the same.
She already knew.