🍒The Space Between Us🍒
Chapter 3 — The Space Between Us
"खामोशियों में भी गूंजती थी उसकी बात,
दिल समझा नहीं, पर महसूस करता था रात दिन के साथ,
हर नज़र में था एक सवाल छुपा,
क्या ये दोस्ती है, या कुछ और लिखा है लिखा।"
"Even in silence, her voice would echo,
The heart didn't understand, yet felt her close.
Every glance hid a trembling question—
Is this friendship... or something fate has already chosen?"
The December air in Udaipur always carried a hint of melancholy — soft enough to sting, gentle enough to make you remember.
St. Hilda's corridors smelled of chalk dust, old wood, and something else that Avni could never quite name — maybe him.
Krivan Chugh.
He was the reason her world had tilted slightly off balance.
---
That morning, she was sitting in the back garden near the basketball court, sketchbook open, sunlight spilling over her face. Her pencil moved almost unconsciously, shaping lines that looked suspiciously like the curve of his jaw.
"Wow," came a voice from behind. "Didn't know you took commissions for portraits now."
Avni's fingers froze.
Of course. Krivan.
Leaning over her shoulder, hair messy, the faint scent of cologne and sports dust on his shirt.
"It's not you," she muttered, flipping the page.
"Oh, I'm sure," he said with that infuriating half-smile. "Just happens to have my nose, my eyes, and my bad attitude."
She turned toward him, eyes flashing. "Don't flatter yourself. I draw what annoys me. Helps me get over it."
He laughed — that careless, warm laugh that somehow made her chest feel full and empty at the same time. "Then you must have a whole sketchbook of me."
Before she could reply, the bell rang — cutting through the tension like a warning.
---
They weren't together. Not yet.
But lately, everyone in class had started noticing how they moved like two magnets pretending not to be drawn toward each other.
Aafreen would tease her during lunch breaks.
"Avni Sharma, admit it. You've got a thing for the basketball boy."
"I don't!" she'd say, eyes on her tiffin, cheeks burning.
But deep down, she knew she was lying — and that terrified her.
---
A few weeks later, the school was hosting the Winter Cultural Fest.
Krivan was in charge of stage setup; Avni had volunteered for the art decorations. It was supposed to be simple — cutouts, lighting, posters. But when they got paired for the same section, the air between them thickened.
"You can't hang it like that," she said, watching him struggle with the fairy lights.
He frowned. "Then how about you do it, Picasso?"
"Fine." She climbed the small stool, fixing the string above the banner. "See? Neat and straight. Not dangling like your attitude."
He looked up at her — and for a second, forgot to breathe.
The sunlight hit her hair just right. A strand fell across her cheek, and she brushed it away, leaving a faint trace of glitter on her skin.
"Done staring?" she said softly.
He blinked, stepping back. "Yeah... just making sure you don't fall."
"Relax, Mr. Chugh. Not everyone's as clumsy with emotions as you are."
He smirked, but his heart thudded louder than the background music.
---
That night, Krivan couldn't sleep.
He'd laughed too much during the fest. Smiled too easily when she was around. And when she'd left, waving goodbye with that paint-smudged hand, it felt like something inside him had gone too.
He wasn't used to feeling this.
It scared him — the idea that someone could make him feel seen, without even trying.
---
But sometimes, closeness invites the fear of loss.
A few days later, Avni found out from Aafreen that Krivan was seen talking to a senior girl — Shruti Mehta, the kind who made everyone stop in hallways.
They were laughing, his hand brushing hers as they looked over a project sheet.
Her stomach dropped.
It wasn't jealousy — not entirely. It was confusion, the kind that comes when you start caring about someone who isn't supposed to matter this much.
That afternoon, she avoided him.
Didn't look up when he called her name.
Didn't smile when he sat beside her in class.
By the third day, he noticed.
"Hey," he said, pulling her aside near the staircase. "What's your problem lately?"
"No problem," she said coldly. "Just realized I don't need to explain my mood to someone who's too busy."
He frowned. "Too busy doing what?"
"Ask Shruti. I'm sure she knows."
The silence between them grew sharp.
He stepped closer, voice low. "You think there's something between me and her?"
"I don't think," she whispered, eyes wet. "I saw."
He stared at her, bewildered. "You don't trust me at all, do you?"
She took a step back, heart pounding. "Maybe I shouldn't have."
That was the first crack. The one that would one day split wide open.
---
For the rest of the term, they barely spoke.
The banter stopped. The laughter died quietly in the corners of the classroom.
And yet, both of them kept searching — his eyes always finding hers during morning assembly, her heart skipping every time she heard his name.
But neither said a word.
Sometimes love begins with a spark — and ends because neither could hold it without burning.
---
"एक गलत समझ और लम्हा जुदाई का,
दोनों ने खामोशी में लिख दिया फैसला रात का,
वो पल गया, पर छोड़ी दास्तान एक गहरी,
जहाँ प्यार था, पर इज़हार नहीं था कहीं भी।"
"One misunderstanding, one night of silence,
Both wrote the ending without words.
That moment passed, but left behind a tale—
Where love existed, but confession never did."
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End of Chapter 3
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