Two months had passed since that exhausting day at college. Anushri and Amey had settled into a routine—a life of quiet coexistence. The unspoken tension between them had dulled, replaced by an unacknowledged distance. They weren’t fighting anymore, but they weren’t really talking either. Each day followed a pattern: Anushri went to college, buried herself in lectures and books house charos, and came home to find Amey either engrossed in his laptop or stretched out on the couch. Their conversations had become transactional, limited to questions about dinner or updates about bills
Anushri stirred awake as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains. The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the room. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, the heaviness in her chest a familiar companion now.
When Amey stepped out of the bathroom, her breath caught for a moment. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and the towel slung low on his hips highlighted his toned frame. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks warm.
He caught her glance “Good morning,” he said casually, heading to the wardrobe.
“Morning,” she mumbled, suddenly very interested in adjusting her bedsheet.
There had been moments like this before—fleeting, charged, and utterly confusing. Moments when the silence between them didn’t feel like a barrier but something else entirely.
---
It was Sunday, Sunday is relaxing day as they sat across from each other at the dining table, the clink of cutlery was the only sound. Anushri picked at her plate of poha, sneaking glances at Amey as he scrolled through his phone.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Do you always check your phone during dinner?”
He looked up, surprised. “Do you always avoid eating what’s on your plate?”
Her lips twitched despite herself. “Touché.”
Amey set his phone down and leaned back in his chair. “So, how’s college going?”
“Fine,” she replied with a shrug. “Busy. Assignments, lectures… the usual.”
He nodded, taking a sip of water. “You’re handling it well.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s the first compliment you’ve given me.”
Amey looked at her, his expression softening. “I mean it, Anushri. You’re doing a lot. More than I probably give you credit for.”
The unexpected sincerity in his voice left her momentarily speechless. She looked down at her plate, unsure how to respond.
“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
The silence stretched between them, no longer comfortable but not entirely awkward either. Anushri hesitated before speaking, her voice tinged with cautious curiosity. "So... what about you? Work's been keeping you busy?"
Amey's expression shifted slightly, the softness in his gaze hardening just a fraction. "Yeah, it's fine. Same old, same old."
She frowned at his clipped tone but decided to press on. "Do you ever, you know, think about taking a break? You’re always working, always glued to your laptop."
He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Not everyone has the luxury of taking breaks, Anushri. Some of us actually have responsibilities."
The words hit her like a slap, and her cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising in her chest. "And I don’t? Is that what you’re trying to say?"
Amey sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That’s not what I meant. Forget it."
"No, say it," she challenged, pushing her plate away. "You think I just sit around and do nothing, don’t you?"
He leaned forward, his jaw tightening. "That’s not what I said. Stop putting words in my mouth."
"But that’s what you implied!" Her voice rose, trembling with frustration. "I’m juggling college, managing the house, and trying to keep this—" she gestured between them, "whatever this is—from completely falling apart!"
Amey scoffed, the sound cutting through her like a knife. "Don’t act like you’re the only one trying, Anushri. Do you think it’s easy for me? Living in this awkward silence day after day?"
Her hands curled into fists on the table, her anger bubbling over. "Maybe if you actually talked to me instead of shutting me out, it wouldn’t be so awkward!"
His eyes flashed, his voice sharper now. "And maybe if you stopped tiptoeing around like I’m some wounded animal, we’d have something to talk about!"
The words stung, and Anushri recoiled as if struck. "That’s not fair, Amey."
"No, what’s not fair is being trapped in this marriage where neither of us wants to be!" he snapped, his voice loud enough to echo through the room.
The air between them crackled with the weight of his words, and for a moment, Anushri couldn’t breathe. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall.
"You think I wanted this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn’t ask for this either, Amey. But I’m trying. I’m trying. And all I get from you is this... this wall."
Amey's face softened slightly, guilt flickering in his eyes, but he quickly masked it. "Maybe that’s just who I am now," he said quietly, his tone laced with defeat.
Anushri stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Well, maybe I’m tired of trying to break through to someone who doesn’t want to be reached." Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care anymore.
Without waiting for a response, she went to her room, leaving Amey sitting there, staring at the empty space where she had been. The silence that followed wasn’t just awkward or uncomfortable—it was suffocating for them.
