Jayant

I had just stepped outside the hospital when I heard her voice behind me.

"Jayant!"
I stopped.

She came up to me, her brows furrowed, eyes searching mine. "Why did you lie for me?" she asked, quietly but firmly.

I exhaled, not meeting her gaze. "You really don't know the answer to that?"

"I do," she whispered. "But I want to hear it from you."

I smiled faintly, a little bitter, a little soft. "So that you don't get slapped."

She went silent.

I looked away and said, "Go inside, Shreya. Your sister needs you more than I do right now."

"Are you okay?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah... I'm fine."

She raised her hand slowly to touch the side of my face-the place where Amma's slap still stung. "Are you really?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

I gently caught her hand mid-air, holding it. "I said I'm fine," I replied, softly but surely.

And then, without thinking, I pulled her into a hug.

She melted into me, and I felt her body tremble just a little, as if holding back tears. "It's my fault," she murmured against my chest. "I shouldn't have asked Di to dance."

I rested my chin on her head, brushing my hand through her hair slowly. "It wasn't your fault," I said. "If anything, I shouldn't have planned that stupid dance."

"But it wasn't your fault either," she said, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes.

"Hmm," I agreed, nodding gently. "Just like it wasn't yours."

Because it wasn't anyone's fault. It was just an accident. No villain. No real blame.

So I pulled away.

And I walked off-not because I wanted to leave, but because maybe... staying may be hurt her family.

∆∆°•°∆∆

"I don't feel good yaar," I muttered, staring blankly at the screen during our conference video call. On the other end were Rishi, Rahim, and Alisha-three of the few people who knew how to sit with your mess without trying to fix it.

"I went there to make things better," I added, exhaling deeply, "and ended up making everything worse."

"Why are you so stressed, yaar?" Rahim chimed in, casually munching on something off-screen. "The baby and her mom are both okay now, right?"

"Yeah, but you...guys know," I said again, the guilt show in my voice.

Alisha leaned a bit closer to her camera, her voice gentle. "Please stop blaming yourself first jayant."

I nodded, but the weight in my chest didn't lift. My eyes flicked to Rishi, who had been silent the entire time. He was definitely on the call-but not really in it. His eyes were elsewhere, not on the screen, his fingers clearly typing something.

"Rishi," I called out once.

No response.

"Rishi?" I said again, louder this time. Still nothing. Finally, I half-yelled, "RISHI!"

He jumped so hard that his phone slipped out of his hand and clattered onto the floor.

He picked it up, glaring at me through the screen. "Bro! You trying to give me a heart attack or what?!"

I smirked. "That wasn't my plan. But someone definitely has plan... Who were you chatting with just now?"

He fumbled. "Chat? Me? What chat? Who said I was chatting?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie. You were smiling ear to ear two seconds ago. Alisha, you saw it too, right?"

Alisha grinned. "Yup. Caught in 4K."

Rahim couldn't resist adding, "He's met someone... in Goa."

My jaw dropped. "What?! And you didn't tell us?"

"I didn't get the chance," Rishi muttered defensively. "You've all been busy with your dramatic love lives."

"Only jayant" rahim and she said on unison.

He paused, then shifted the topic. "Speaking of which... weren't you saying something about Shreya earlier? What happened?"

That cracked everyone up.

Alisha burst out laughing. "The whole Ramayan just finished and this guy is asking-who was Ram?"

Even Rishi couldn't help laughing at that one.

As the laughter faded, he looked at me more seriously. "So... how are you planning to propose to her? You're sure now, right?"

I didn't hesitate. "Two hundred percent sure."

Alisha leaned in again, grinning. "Then tell us-how are you going to do it? It has to be unique!"

I looked down for a second, a soft smile playing on my lips. "I've thought of something..."

Their faces lit up with curiosity. But I didn't say much to them, just hoping Shreya will like this, feel this,
The way she made me feel.

∆∆°•°∆∆

After the group call ended, I called Alisha again-just the two of us this time.

"Can you please write a shayari for me... for Shreya?" I asked, hoping she'd say yes.

But she didn't even take a full second before shutting me down.

"No, Bhalu," she said firmly. "Girls don't really like it when someone else writes love poems on behalf of a guy. If it's your heart speaking, then it should be your words too. You write it. I can help polish it later if you want, but that's all." And with that, she hung up.

I let the phone fall beside me on the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress, staring at the ceiling. My mind was a blank slate. Completely frozen.

How was I supposed to say everything I'd been feeling?

I tried. I really did. I sat up, scribbled a few lines. Rehearsed them in my head, whispering to myself in the dark. But nothing felt right. The rhythm was off.

Desperate for inspiration, I opened Alisha's Instagram page. She was a magician with words, after all. Maybe something from her recent posts would spark something in me.

But all I found were verses soaked in heartbreak. Words that ached. Sentences that bled. Her poetry was beautiful, yes-but it was the kind of beauty that belonged to sadness, not confessions of love.

I closed the app.

Turned off the phone.

And just lay there.

In the quiet of my room, surrounded by thoughts too loud to ignore and words too afraid to come out.

That sometimes, when you're trying to speak from the heart... your own heart forgets how to speak.

∆∆°•°∆∆

The next morning, I kept glancing at the office entrance, hoping Shreya would walk in.

Her resignation hadn't even been officially accepted yet-but still, I had this strange, restless hope that she'd show up.

Time passed.

I wandered around the corridor more times than I could count, pretending to be busy-but she never came. Finally, I gave in and called her.

"You didn't come to the office," I said gently, trying not to sound too eager.

She replied sharply, her voice heavy with exhaustion and frustration. "How do you expect me to show up at the office in a situation like this? I won't be coming until Di is discharged."

Before I could respond, she hung up.

Her tone told me everything. She wasn't angry at me. Not really. She was just... overwhelmed. Her sister's condition had drained her, emotionally and mentally. She needed space.

But I couldn't sit still. Not anymore.

Without thinking twice, I drove straight to the hospital.

As I stepped into the hospital, I spotted JJ standing near the reception, filling out some paperwork. The moment he saw me, his expression tightened. He stared at me for a second, his jaw rigid, eyes unreadable.

I walked straight toward him and said, "I'm sorry... for everything that happened."

But JJ surprised me.

He didn't lash out. Didn't scold me. Instead, his voice was calm. "No need to say sorry. Shreya already told me everything. In fact," he paused and looked at me, "I should thank you-for getting Nandu to the hospital in time."

I was about to say something-maybe apologize again or offer to help-but he cut me off.

"Don't worry. She's been discharged. I'm just finishing the paperwork." Then, placing a hand on my shoulder, he added, "And Shreya's gone to the nearby medical store to get some medicines."

He gave me a small nod before turning to walk away.

I stood there, watching him go.

A few days ago, after that early morning incident, I had spoken to JJ-really spoken to him. I'd told him the truth: that I liked Shreya, and I wanted to make things right. I didn't expect much from him, but to my surprise, he listened. We ended up talking for quite some time.

And somewhere in that honest conversation, a sort of mutual understanding formed between us.
We had become... something like friends.

As I reached the medical store, I saw her.

Shreya was just stepping out. Her hair was slightly disheveled, strands falling around her face. There was fatigue in her eyes-visible, undeniable. She looked like someone who hadn't slept properly in days, someone carrying more than just the weight of medicine in her hands.

As she stepped down from the last stair, a strip of medicines slipped from her grip and scattered to the ground.

Instinctively, I moved forward to help.

I bent down, silently picking up the packets. She stood still, watching me-not with surprise, not even with anger, just a kind of silent acknowledgment.

When I handed her the medicines, our fingers brushed slightly. She didn't say a word-just took them gently from my hand and turned around to leave.

And I followed.

I knew she wasn't in the mood for conversation. Her silence wasn't harsh-it was sacred. And I didn't want to break it.

So I walked beside her, quietly, matching her pace.

Step by step, breath by breath, we made our way back to the hospital. No words exchanged. Just the shared rhythm of two people moving through pain.

When we entered, she went straight toward her sister's room-no hesitation in her feet. Her place was there, beside Nandani Di. Mine... wasn't.

I stayed at the doorway. staring through the glass. I saw her sit beside Nandani Di, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, brushing a stray hair from her forehead.

I saw Nandani Di-still pale, still recovering, but alive. Breathing. Fighting.

And then, without letting my presence linger any longer, I turned and walked away.
__________________________________________________________________

Shreya

"You should go talk to him," Di said gently, her voice barely above a whisper.

I looked at her without meeting her eyes and replied in the same low tone, "Talk to who?"

She tilted her head ever so slightly toward the window. "To the one standing outside... by the corner, pretending not to look in."

My heart skipped. I knew who she meant even before she said it.

Still, I tried to deflect. "He'll leave in a while," I mumbled, trying to sound indifferent, though I could feel the weight of his presence even without seeing him.

"And if he doesn't?" Di asked softly, with that knowing smile only an elder sister carries-the kind that sees through you no matter how much you pretend.

I gave a hollow chuckle and said, "That's Mr. Jayant Patil, Di. Why would he wait for me?"

And yet... my gaze drifted toward the window, unwillingly, but hopefully. But he was gone.

I blinked, then turned back to Di and gave her a half-smile. "Told you... he left."

She didn't argue.
A moment later, JJ came in, "All done, sweetheart," he said with his usual cheer, nudging Di's shoulder playfully. "Time to take my queen home."

Di giggled, her voice still fragile from the hospital stay but warm with affection. "Sure my king."

The way they looked at each other... like the world had shrunk to just the two of them... it made me smile.

For the first time since last night, my lips curved-not out of obligation, not to reassure anyone-but out of something real. Something that flickered gently, like hope returning after a long storm.

As JJ and I stepped out of the hospital with Di between us, he left momentarily to get the car. I stayed beside her, holding her hand gently-more for my own comfort than hers. The day had been long, and her steps were slow, but there was calm in the way we moved together under the soft light of the evening.

Then suddenly, her fingers tightened slightly around mine. "Shreya," she said softly, almost like a breath, her gaze shifting toward the other side of the road.

I followed her eyes. And there he was. Jayant.

Standing still on the opposite pavement, half in shadow, half in sunlight. His posture unreadable, his face holding that same familiar stillness that always confused me-whether it was strength or restraint.

He hadn't left.

He was still there.

All this time... he waited.

And in that moment, something in me shifted. He had proved me wrong. My assumptions, my certainty that he would walk away like before-none of it held true now.

He stayed.

And somehow, that meant more than anything he could've said.

Just then, JJ drove up and stopped in front of us. The engine purred softly as he called out, "Let's go."

We helped Di into the back seat carefully. JJ got behind the wheel. I slid in quietly beside her. The door shut, the world outside muffled again.

As the car began to move forward, I couldn't help myself.

I turned.
One last glance.

And there he was-still standing, eyes quietly fixed in our direction.

Neither of us waved.
Neither of us smiled.

But sometimes silence holds more weight than words ever can.

∆∆°•°∆∆

We had finally reached home.

As soon as we stepped in, Amma, ever the caretaker, started ushering Di inside with a protective urgency. She insisted on helping her at every step-her arms hovering, guiding, shielding. She didn't even let her step past the way alone.

Once done, Di took a seat on the sofa. I had her reports in my hand, so I quietly slipped into JJ's room to keep them safely on his desk. When I returned, I found a sight that made my heart ache in the most comforting way.

I found Amma sitting close beside Di on the sofa. Her hands, aged and worn, were carefully feeding her-one spoon at a time-as if Di were still a child.

Without thinking, I lowered myself beside Amma and wrapped my arms around her from the side, burying my face into her shoulder.

"need your love," I whispered, eyes closed, not wanting to let go just yet.

"Let go of me, I'm trying to feed Nandu," she said, half-irritated, swatting at my arm lightly.

"Let me stay like this for just a little while," I mumbled, tightening my hold just a bit. "Then you can go back to loving your eldest daughter."
I just wanted to feel this-her warmth, her presence, the strange security that only Amma could offer. I didn't care if I looked childish.

She gave a tiny scoff-half-annoyed, half-emotional. But she didn't push me away this time.

She grumbled again, voice gruff and familiar, "Stop clinging like a little monkey... Let go of my hand."

I smiled into her shoulder and slowly released her arm so she could continue feeding Di.

∆∆°•°∆∆

Even with my eyes closed, I could sense everything unfolding in that room.

"Kya samdhan ji, aap hi Nandu pe pyaar lutayenge? Hume bhi toh mauka dijiye," came the soft, teasing voice-clearly Di's mother-in-law.

(Samdhan ji, will you alone shower your love on Nandu? Please give us a chance too,)

I didn't need to see her to know she must have come and settled herself beside Di, likely trying to touch her feet out of respect and affection, and just as likely, Madhu Aunty-Amma-would have stopped her gently, as if to say, "No need for formality, you are pregnant."

Amma's hand brushed my head at that very moment, a simple touch that told me everything. That she had handed over the food plate. That she had allowed another mother to feed her daughter.

And in that moment, I could imagine it so clearly-JJ's mother lifting a spoon to Di's lips, coaxing her to eat with quiet warmth, the way only mothers know how.

And Di... oh, Di must have been feeling so overwhelmed. So strange, maybe even shy-being on the receiving end of so much love, so much attention. From both families. From all directions.

∆∆°•°∆∆

Next morning

By morning, Di was surrounded by everyone-family from both sides doting on her like she was made of glass and starlight. And maybe because of that, even in her eighth month of pregnancy, JJ was granted rare permission to return to work. With things finally feeling settled, I, too, decided to get ready for the office.

I had just finished tying my hair when Amma caught sight of me walking toward the door with my bag slung on one shoulder.

"Tu kaha chali?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Office, Amma," I replied casually, expecting no drama.

"Office?" she echoed, her voice laced with disapproval. She turned toward Madhu Aunty and said loudly, "Dekh rahe hain Madhu ji? Isse yahan Nandu ka dhyan rakhne bheja tha, aur yeh madam yahan aake seedha office join kar liya!"

(Are you seeing Madhu ji? I had sent her here to take care of Nandu, and this madam came here and directly joined the office!)

Then, turning back to me with that classic Amma glare, she added firmly, "Kahi nahi ja rahi ho. Chhutti le lo."

"But why?" I asked, half-laughing, trying to lighten her mood. "You all are here na?"

Amma didn't budge. "Kal humlog wapas Bangalore ke liye nikal rahe hain," she said simply. "To aaj ka waqt... apni didi ke saath bitao. She needs you."

(Tomorrow we are leaving for Bangalore, so spend today's time with your sister. She needs you.)

I froze at that. "Kal ja rahe hain?" I asked, my voice faltering.

(going tomorrow)

She nodded, and just then, she walked up to me slowly, holding both my shoulders as if anchoring me in place. "Vaise bhi... Maya ki shaadi hai."

(Anyway... it's Maya's wedding)

Then she kissed me softly on the forehead, a rare gesture that melted something inside me.

"I'm so happy," she whispered, "that you sorted things out with Maya. It means a lot."

I nodded gently, unable to find words. That part of my life had been knotted up in silence for so long-it felt strange now that it was slowly beginning to untangle.

So no, I didn't go to the office that day.

∆∆°•°∆∆

It was early evening, and Di and I were curled up on the bed of di, half-watching a romantic drama on TV and half-fighting over the popcorn bucket.

The heroine on-screen had just forgiven the guy for his mistakes-something about a second chance, love, and fate. I didn't catch the exact dialogue, but Di clearly did.

"Just like in this movie," she said suddenly, her voice thoughtful but casual, "you should give him a second chance too."

I didn't even glance at her, still distracted by the movie. "Give who a second chance?"

"Mr. Jayant Patil," she replied between mouthfuls of popcorn.

Her words made my hand freeze mid-air, fingers hovering over the popcorn bowl. I turned my face toward her slowly, my eyebrows drawing together. "Seriously, Di? You just ruined my mood."

I stood up, pretending to be annoyed, brushing invisible dust off my clothes.

But Di wasn't done. She grinned mischievously and pointed at my face. "Ruined your mood? Look at your cheeks-completely red the moment I said his name."

I turned away from her teasing, trying not to smile. "It's nothing like that," I muttered, hoping she'd drop it.

But Di never dropped anything halfway.

"At least talk to him once," she insisted gently. "Yesterday... he got slapped by Amma. For you."

That made me pause.

"And you know how hard Amma slaps," she added, dramatically clutching her own cheek, making both of us laugh.

I nodded slowly, pretending to wince in sympathy. "Yeah... Amma does slap really hard," I said quietly.

"Then talk to him," Di said, her tone soft now, no longer playful.

And this time, I didn't fight her.

I didn't roll my eyes.

I didn't pretend not to care.

I just sat there quietly for a moment... and reached for my phone.

I just called him once. Just once.

He didn't answer.

And honestly, something inside me refused to try again. I put my phone aside, pretending it didn't bother me.

"second chance," I said, glancing toward Di with a tight smile. "He didn't even pick up the call."

Di barely blinked, still munching popcorn like she was watching a rom-com and not my actual emotional crisis.

But then-ring ring. My phone lit up.
Jayant Patil calling.

I didn't think. I just answered. "Hello," he said first.

"Hello," I replied, my voice coming out softer than I expected.

"I'm so sorry, Shreya," he said in a rush. "I came from office... then went straight to shower. I didn't mean to miss your call. I swear."

I exhaled slowly, letting go of the weight in my chest. "It's okay. It happens."

There was a pause.

"...How are you?" I finally asked, voice quiet. I could feel Di's gaze on me, and the heat rising in my face made me squirm a little.

"I'm fine," Jayant replied. "How's your sister? Is she okay? And... the baby?" Before I could respond, Di leaned in, as if the phone had a loudspeaker. I panicked.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at her.

"Huh?" Jayant asked.

I covered my embarrassment quickly. "Not you-wasn't talking to you. Sorry. Di and the baby are both doing well."

"Thank God," he murmured with genuine relief in his voice.

I nodded at Di like happy now? and got up, phone still pressed to my ear, I stepped out of the room, heart oddly lighter. But as I passed through the living room, I caught sight of Amma and Madhu aunty sitting in coach chatting.

Avoiding their eyes like I was sneaking out for a secret mission, I stepped out of the flat quietly and slipped into the staircase. My heart was fluttering, but I tried to steady my breath as I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Okay, all good. Now tell me," I said, finally resuming the call.

Jayant didn't waste a second. "Is something wrong? What took you so long?"

I hesitated. "It's nothing... forget it." But then, trying to keep the conversation going, I added, "Your mom didn't say anything about that bright red slap mark on your cheek?"

His response was almost too quick. "So suddenly, you care? Wow... I'm glad."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be. I'm going to Bangalore tomorrow. Just thought I'd ask if you're okay or not."

There was a pause. A loaded pause. And then his voice turned more serious. "Will you meet me once... before you leave?"

I froze.

Did he just ask me to meet him?

My voice didn't even come out. Just a weak "Huh?" escaped me.

Without giving him a proper answer, I sprinted back toward the flat, without thinking.

"Shreya!" Amma's voice came as I dashed into the hall. "Why are you running like that? Don't hurt yourself!"

But I didn't stop. I raced straight into the room, found Di, and placed the phone on mute like it was some kind of explosive.

"He wants to meet me," I said, slightly breathless. "What do I say?"

Without missing a beat, Di said, "Say yes."

"What?! That means I'd have to meet him today"

"Then meet him today. What's the big deal?" she replied with a shrug, like I was overcomplicating everything.

Meanwhile, Jayant's voice was crackling faintly through the phone: "Hello? Hello?"

I quickly unmuted the call. "Fine," I said, my voice low but certain.

"I'll text you the time and location," he said. "See you soon."

And then the call ended. It was only after the screen went dark that it hit me-what excuse was I going to give Amma to go out?

Before I could spiral, Di casually stretched and said, "I feel like having ice cream."

I squinted at her. "Seriously, Di? Now?"

She raised an eyebrow, and I immediately understood the silent signal.

We both turned to each other, smirked and, in perfect sync, said, "Ice cream."
___________________________________________________________________________

Jayant

I was pacing slowly inside the empty flat, checking the time every few seconds, pretending not to be nervous. But my heart, traitor that it is, beat faster with every sound from the hallway. She said she'd come. I believed her. And yet...

I kept imagining how she'd show up-maybe in a floral kurti, a bit of kajal in her eyes, maybe even a hint of perfume lingering behind her. But when the door finally creaked open, it wasn't anything like what I had pictured.

Shreya walked in... in pajama bottoms, an oversized t-shirt, hair tied in a lazy bun, and rubber slippers. No kajal, no perfume. Just... her. Unfiltered. Real.

I couldn't help it-I chuckled.

She stopped right in front of me and raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead. Laugh. Get it all out."

That was it. I burst into laughter, no longer trying to hold it in.

She crossed her arms.."You done?"

"Trying," I said between hiccups of laughter. "But it's hard... You look like you were dragged here mid-nap."

She muttering "Who gets ready and goes to get ice?"

She rolled her eyes. "By the way, why did you call me to this haunted-looking flat?"

"It's not haunted," I said, trying not to laugh again.

"Oh really? Then you're not planning to kill me here and hide the body behind fake renovation panels? I've seen that in movies, you know."

I grinned. "Yeah, but those murderers usually have a motive. I don't have any."

She narrowed her eyes. "You do have a motive-"
And then she stopped, bit her tongue. Her eyes dropped, suddenly unsure.

I stepped closer, voice softer now. "I didn't bring you here to end something. I brought you here to begin something."

She blinked. "What?"

"This flat," I said, glancing around, "is mine. I bought it."

Her lips parted. "Okay...?"

"I want you to design it-interior, layout, everything. I want your touch in every corner... for us."

Her lips parted. "You mean... as my boss? You want me to do this job-for you?"

"No," I said softly, firmly. "I said for us. As in you and me."

She stood there, stunned. Her eyes wide, searching mine for meaning.

"I'm not speaking as a boss," I continued, stepping closer. "I'm speaking as a man... to the woman he wants to build a life with."

She didn't move. Just stared at me, breath caught, emotions storming silently behind her expression.

I reached for her hand-warm, unsure-and held it gently. Then I started walking her through the flat.

"Here, this will be the kitchen. From the balcony, the view is beautiful. It's a 2BHK... but really, only one bedroom will be used."

She didn't stop me. She let me guide her, hand in hand, through the hollow space that I hoped would someday echo with our laughter, arguments, late-night ice cream fights, and shared silences.

But just as we turned the corner, she suddenly pulled her hand away.

My heart paused mid-beat. She had gone quiet.

I looked at her, really looked-and there was something strange in her eyes. Not confusion, not anger... but a kind of pain that had no language. It was the kind that sits in the corner of your heart for years, waiting for a moment like this to show its face.

"What happened?" I asked softly. "Did you... not like it?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she turned and slowly began walking toward the door.

My heartbeat stuttered. Something inside me snapped. And then-impulsively, helplessly-I raised my voice, "I love you, Shreya Murty. I love you!"

She froze. Her back still toward me. That name-her full name-hung in the silence like a confession I'd waited too long to say.

I walked to her, every step heavier than the last, and finally stood right in front of her.

"I mean it," I whispered. "I really do. I've fallen for you. I want to be with you-in this flat, in this life. Laughing, fighting, eating, building something... together. Every words came from here." I said, keeping my hand on my chest.

Her eyes welled up instantly, like my words had pressed on something buried inside her. I gently cupped her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks with my thumb.

And then I held her.

Held her like she might disappear if I let go.

"If your answer is no... that's okay," I said, swallowing the tightness in my throat. resting my chin lightly on her head, my hand stroking her hair. "You can say it. I'll accept it."

She didn't move. Didn't speak.

"And if it's not a no, but a doubt," I added softly, "then take your time. I'll wait. I'll wait for as long as you need."

Then I pulled back, just enough to kiss her forehead-slowly, gently, like sealing a promise I had no right to make, but made anyway.

And then I stepped aside.

She moved forward, slowly, quietly. Our fingers still brushed, still touched... until, finally, even that slipped away.

I stood there, watching her.

She didn't look back.

But before the door could swallow her completely, I said again-more to myself this time than to her:

"I'll wait."

And I meant it.

Whether she came back or not...
Whether her heart chose me or not...
I had already chosen her. And I would stand by that choice-even in silence.

_________________________________________

🫶🫶
❤️❤️