The days after that felt softer.
Not louder. Not dramatic. Just softer.
They began sitting closer without noticing. Their shoulders almost touching when the table filled up. Her coffee order started matching his without discussion. She preferred the corner seat now because "the light is better," but he knew it was because that was where he sat.
Small things.
Dangerous things.
One evening, the campus was nearly empty. Exams were close, and most students had already left.
Meera closed her book and looked at him. "Can I ask you something personal?"
Aarav did not look up. "You always do."
She smiled slightly. "Why do you hate the idea of people leaving so much?"
His hand froze on the page.
"I don't."
"You do."
He sighed, leaning back. "You don't know me well enough to say that."
"Then let me."
The words were simple.
But they made his chest feel tight.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment before speaking.
"My father left when I was sixteen," he said quietly. "No explanation. Just gone. After that, I stopped expecting people to stay."
He had never said that out loud in college. Not to friends. Not to anyone.
Meera did not interrupt.
"My mother pretended it didn't matter," he continued. "So I learned to pretend too."
Silence filled the space between them, but it did not feel uncomfortable.
It felt honest.
Meera reached across the table, not touching him, just placing her hand near his.
"You're allowed to expect people to stay," she said softly.
He shook his head. "Expectations make you weak."
"No," she replied. "They make you human."
He looked at her then.
Really looked at her.
There was no pity in her eyes. No curiosity. Just understanding.
That scared him more than anything.
Because if she understood him, she could hurt him.
And if she stayed, he would start needing her to.
When they stood to leave, she walked beside him instead of ahead.
At the gate, she paused.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said.
He wanted to believe her.
He almost did.
But life had taught him one thing clearly.
Everyone says that.
And somehow, they still leave.
This time, though, the thought did not feel certain.
It felt like fear.
And Aarav was slowly realizing that fear only exists when something matters. 💙