The Weight of StayingSome touches leave warmth.Some touches leave questions.And some touches stay long after hands separate.The bus ride that evening felt shorter than usual. Aarushi stood beside Mira, their fingers still loosely linked—gentle, almost hesitant, as if both were testing whether the moment was real or imagined.Neither spoke.The city lights moved past the windows in soft blurs. People around them chatted, scrolled through phones, argued with conductors. Life moved loudly, but inside that small space between them, silence felt sacred.When Aarushi’s stop approached, she slowly pulled her hand away.Not abruptly. Not regretfully.Just… carefully.Mira noticed.She always did.“See you tomorrow?” Mira