🍒First Sparks of Reconciliation🍒
Chapter 6 — First Sparks of Reconciliation
"रूठे लम्हों की ख़ामोशी में एक सदा आई,
टूटी बातों के दरमियाँ, उम्मीद मुस्कुराई,
थोड़ी झिझक, थोड़ी पुरानी मोहब्बत की चाल,
और यूँ लौटी एक अधूरी कहानी की चाल।"
"In the silence of estranged moments, a voice returned,
Between broken words, hope quietly smiled,
A little hesitation, a trace of old affection's style,
And thus began the return of an unfinished story's trial."
---
The city was changing again — from the sharp chill of winter to the hesitant warmth of early spring.
The kind of weather where the mornings were cold enough for sweaters, but the afternoons smelled faintly of bougainvillea and new beginnings.
Avni could feel it too. In her sketches, the colors had started to shift — less gray, more light. But something still remained unfinished, like a half-healed bruise.
---
The school corridors buzzed with pre-board pressure. Students carried files, whispered formulas, and fought over lab equipment. Avni tried to stay focused. She had an art exhibition coming up — her first independent showcase at a local youth fest. Her teacher, Mrs. D'Souza, had pushed her to apply.
"Your work speaks," she had said, "even when you don't."
And yet, every time Avni picked up a brush lately, her thoughts slipped toward a pair of familiar eyes she had been avoiding for months.
---
That afternoon, as she stood in the art room, painting the faint outline of a bridge over water, the door creaked open.
She didn't turn. She thought it was Aafreen bringing her coffee again.
"Careful," a voice said quietly. "The shadow's falling too far to the left."
She froze.
The brush slipped from her fingers, smudging gray across the paper.
"Krivan," she whispered, almost afraid to believe it.
He stood near the door, wearing the same school hoodie, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was slightly messy, as if he'd been running, and his expression — unsure, but gentler than she remembered.
She swallowed. "You're not supposed to be here. This is the art block."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. Got lost on my way to the physics lab."
She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. "That's at the other end of the building."
"I figured," he said, walking closer. "But I saw you here."
There was no mockery in his tone. Just quiet honesty.
---
For a few seconds, neither spoke. The air smelled faintly of turpentine and wet paint. A droplet of color slid down the page, spreading between them like a fragile truce.
He pointed toward her painting. "Still drawing bridges, huh?"
Her lips curved, almost involuntarily. "You remember."
"I remember everything," he said, softly.
Her pulse quickened. The words hung in the air — too simple to mean much, too heavy not to.
"I didn't think you would," she murmured.
"I didn't think you'd still want me to," he replied.
Their eyes met then — and for the first time, neither looked away.
---
Mrs. D'Souza's voice broke the spell.
"Avni, beta! Are you done with—oh!" She stopped mid-sentence at the sight of Krivan. "You're from Hilda's, right?"
He nodded quickly, polite and composed. "Yes, ma'am. I was just—uh—helping Avni carry some frames."
Avni's brows lifted slightly, but she said nothing.
Mrs. D'Souza smiled approvingly. "Good boy. Help her properly, then. These canvases are heavy." She turned back toward the staffroom.
The moment she was gone, Avni arched an eyebrow. "Helping me, huh?"
He shrugged. "Seemed like a safer excuse than saying I got lost staring at your painting."
Her cheeks flushed before she could help it. "You're still terrible at saving yourself."
He laughed — quietly, sincerely. It was a sound she hadn't realized she missed.
---
They spent the next few minutes in the silent rhythm of shared space — him holding the frames steady, her wrapping them with care. Once, their fingers brushed, and neither pulled back.
Something had shifted — small, but certain.
Not forgiveness yet, not fully. But the distance between them had finally started to breathe again.
---
A few days later, at the youth fest, the exhibition hall glowed with string lights and quiet music.
Avni's artwork was displayed in the corner — a series of sketches tracing emotion through silence.
The last one — The Bridge Between — drew quiet attention from the crowd.
It was the same piece Krivan had seen that afternoon. Only now, it had a faint glow around the edges, as if dawn had just broken.
Avni stood near it, answering polite questions from visitors, smiling mechanically. But her eyes kept flicking toward the entrance.
Aafreen elbowed her gently. "He'll come. Don't pretend you're not waiting."
"I'm not," Avni protested, a little too quickly.
Aafreen grinned. "You always wait for the things that matter."
And then — as if the world wanted to prove her right — she saw him.
Krivan entered the hall, looking distinctly out of place among the artists and volunteers. A dark blue shirt, sleeves rolled up again, a slight nervousness in his walk.
When their eyes met, she exhaled — the kind of breath you don't know you've been holding until it's gone.
---
He walked up slowly, stopping in front of her painting.
"So this is the bridge," he said quietly. "Looks… complete now."
She smiled faintly. "It wasn't, that day. I added the sunrise later."
"Why?"
"Because even broken things deserve light."
He looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "You always say the right things without trying."
"And you," she said softly, "always say them too late."
For a heartbeat, his face fell — but then he nodded. "You're right. I did."
He took a breath, glancing around the hall before lowering his voice. "Avni… I never meant to hurt you that day. I just—handled it badly. I didn't know how to explain."
She looked at him, calm but not cold. "And I didn't know how to listen."
They both fell silent — two apologies standing face to face, neither louder than the other.
---
Outside, the evening light spilled through the hall's glass roof, turning everything golden. Someone played a violin near the fountain, and the melody drifted between them like a memory of peace.
Avni broke the silence first. "Do you still have your physics notebook?"
He frowned, confused. "Yeah. Why?"
She smiled. "You should check the last page."
He looked utterly lost, but nodded. "Okay… but why—"
"I'll tell you later," she interrupted, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Avni—"
She laughed softly, the sound surprising even herself. "Just go look. And maybe… don't overthink this time."
For a moment, he simply stared at her — like the girl in front of him had just stepped out of a painting he never wanted to finish.
---
That night, when he opened his physics notebook — the one he'd used during the Mount Abu trip — a folded note slipped out from the back pocket.
It was dated months ago.
His heart stumbled as he unfolded it.
If you ever read this, maybe we've already stopped talking. Maybe we both said too little, too late.
But I hope someday, when the noise fades, we'll find our words again — even if they sound different.
Because sometimes, silence isn't an ending. It's just a pause.
— A.
He sat still for a long time, the words blurring slightly.
Then, for the first time in months, he smiled.
---
The next morning, Avni found a message waiting on her phone.
Krivan: Checked the notebook. Guess I did overthink it.
Avni: You always do.
Krivan: Maybe next time, you can help me stop.
Avni: Maybe next time, I won't let you get lost in the art block.😉
She added a small smile emoji at the end.
He replied with a single word.
Krivan: Deal.
---
That evening, as the sun dipped below the city's rooftops, Avni stood at her window again.
But this time, she didn't sketch. She just watched the light play on the buildings — gentle, forgiving, alive.
Somewhere across the city, Krivan sat by his own window, physics notebook open, her note tucked neatly inside.
Two hearts, two windows — finally facing the same horizon.
---
"कभी कभी रंजिशें भी रिश्तों को गहराई देती हैं,
जैसे बारिश के बाद मिट्टी की खुशबू।
मिलना जरूरी नहीं हर बार,
कभी एक मुस्कान भी सुलह बन जाती है।"
"Sometimes even misunderstandings deepen a bond,
Like the scent of earth after rain.
Reunion isn't always in words or touch —
Sometimes, one smile is enough for peace."
---
End of Chapter 6
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