It was a new morning, and the sunlight slipped gently across my face like a quiet reminder that time never really stops—no matter how heavy the night before feels.
For a few seconds, I didn't open my eyes.
I simply lay there, suspended between sleep and waking, listening to the stillness of the room.
The air felt calm.
Not tense.
Not broken.
Just… calm.
When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was Sarthak beside me.
He wasn't holding me.
His arm rested loosely near mine, close enough to feel his presence, but not close enough to claim anything.
The distance was small… yet meaningful.
Last night replayed quietly in my mind.
No shouting.
No accusations.
No painful silence that cuts deeper than words.
We had only talked.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like two people walking across thin glass, afraid one wrong step might shatter everything again.
There were pauses between sentences.
Long ones.
But they weren't empty.
They were filled with things we didn't know how to say yet.
And somewhere in the middle of that fragile conversation, exhaustion had wrapped around us, pulling us into sleep before anything could become complicated again.
Nothing dramatic had happened.
Nothing romantic either.
Just… peace.
I exhaled softly and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, though a small part of me wondered if he was already awake and simply pretending not to be.
The floor felt cool under my feet as I walked to freshen up.
The mirror showed a face that looked tired, yes… but lighter than yesterday.
Not healed.
Just… lighter.
And sometimes that's the first miracle.
When I stepped back into the room, my phone began to ring on the bedside table.
Manya.
I answered quietly.
"Hello?"
Her voice rushed out, full of worry.
"Hey… are you okay? Bhai looked really angry yesterday. I heard loud voices and got scared."
I glanced toward the bed for a moment before replying.
"I'm fine," I said gently. "Really. Is breakfast ready?"
There was a small pause, like she was trying to hear the truth hidden under my words.
Then she sighed. "Yeah… come downstairs."
"Hmm."
The call ended, leaving behind a faint echo of concern.
Downstairs, the dining table looked exactly the same as always.
Papa reading the newspaper with quiet focus.
Mummy giving soft instructions to the staff.
Aarav half-awake but pretending to be serious.
Manya watching everything and everyone at the same time.
Normal.
Strangely… painfully normal.
I took my seat without saying much, hoping to blend into the ordinary rhythm of the morning.
For a moment, I thought maybe Sarthak wouldn't come.
But then his footsteps appeared in the silence.
He walked in calmly, not rushed, not cold.
Just… composed.
My heartbeat betrayed me anyway.
He looked at me once.
Only once.
A brief glance—steady, unreadable, quiet.
Then he sat down in his chair and reached for his coffee.
No teasing.
No distance sharp enough to hurt.
No performance for the family.
Just normal.
And somehow… that felt new.
Newer than anger.
Newer than affection.
Manya's eyes moved between us like she was watching a mystery unfold in slow motion, but no one spoke about it.
Breakfast passed in soft clinks of cutlery and unasked questions.
Sometimes silence is not empty.
Sometimes it is simply waiting.
The heaviness inside me needed air, so I left to meet my school friends.
The café smelled like coffee, sugar, and old memories—the kind that remind you who you were before life became complicated.
When Sparsh, Diksha, and Nitya arrived, laughter returned almost automatically, like muscle memory from a happier timeline.
For a while, nothing existed except silly stories and shared jokes that made no sense to anyone else.
And then, suddenly, Nitya said it.
"I'm getting married."
Everything froze for half a second before exploding into shock and excitement.
"With whom?"
"When?"
"Since when?"
"Why didn't you tell us?!"
She laughed, cheeks glowing with a happiness that looked… peaceful.
Certain.
Loved.
"December fifteenth," she said. "And yes, you all are coming."
We hugged her, teased her, asked a hundred unnecessary questions just to stay inside that joyful moment a little longer.
Watching her smile felt warm… but somewhere deep inside, a quiet ache stirred too.
How does love become so simple for some people…
and so tangled for others?
No one answered that question.
Maybe no one ever can.
By the time I returned home, evening had softened the world into gentle shades of gold.
Inside, everything looked calm again.
Papa reading.
Mummy busy.
Manya typing.
Aarav lost in his work.
Life continuing… as if hearts never break inside ordinary houses.
I didn't see Sarthak.
But I knew where he would be.
His study.
I stood outside the door for a long moment, my hand hovering near the handle, unsure why my heart was beating this fast for something so small.
Maybe because last night had changed something invisible.
Not solved.
Not healed.
Just… shifted.
I knocked softly and stepped in.
He was working on his laptop, focused, serious—the version of him the world understands best.
He looked up when I entered.
"Do you need something?" he asked.
His voice wasn't cold.
Wasn't warm either.
Just… gentle neutrality.
I shook my head.
"No. I just…"
The rest of the sentence disappeared somewhere between my heart and my lips.
Silence settled in the room, but it didn't hurt.
It felt… careful.
Like both of us were protecting something fragile we didn't fully understand yet.
After a few seconds, I simply said,
"Okay… I'll go."
He nodded once.
Nothing more.
But somehow… it was enough.
Night arrived quietly.
No arguments.
No emotional storms.
No dramatic confessions.
Just ordinary dinner… ordinary conversations… ordinary breathing.
And sometimes ordinary is the bravest thing two broken people can choose.
When we finally lay down on the same bed again, the distance between us was still there.
Not wide.
Not painful.
Just… honest.
Two people unsure of the future,
but too tired to keep fighting the past.
The room was dark except for a thin line of moonlight slipping through the curtains.
I listened to the slow rhythm of his breathing.
Steady.
Real.
Close.
Not everything broken needs words immediately.
Some things heal in quiet… the way night slowly becomes morning without asking permission.
My eyes grew heavy.
And just before sleep took me, one thought passed softly through my mind—
Maybe love doesn't begin with grand moments.
Maybe it begins here…
In silence.
In patience.
In two hearts choosing, very slowly,
not to walk away.
Sleep came gently after that.
And for the first time in a long while…
Peace stayed.