PART 7: Sketches That Didn’t Include Her
Some days don’t announce that they will hurt.
They arrive like any other day—quiet, ordinary—
and only later do you realize something inside you has shifted.
Aarushi noticed it first in the smallest way.
She reached the bus stop that evening, a little earlier than usual. The sky was soft blue, the kind that promised nothing dramatic. She stood near the railing, fingers wrapped around her bag strap, eyes scanning the road.
Mira wasn’t there.
That wasn’t unusual.
What was unusual was how quickly Aarushi felt it.
She checked the time.
Five minutes early.
She told herself to relax.
But the thought stayed—light, persistent.
Mira arrived ten minutes later.
Laughing.
Not alone.
She was walking beside someone—a woman about their age, confident posture, loud voice, animated gestures. The woman said something that made Mira laugh openly, the sound carrying across the bus stop.
Aarushi felt it then.
A small, sharp pull in her chest.
She hated it instantly.
Don’t be like this, she told herself. You don’t own anything here.
Mira spotted her a second later.
Her smile didn’t fade—but it changed.
“Hey,” Mira said, stepping closer. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay,” Aarushi replied. Her voice sounded normal. She was proud of that.
Mira turned slightly.
“This is Naina. We studied together—she’s in town for a few days.”
Naina smiled warmly. “You must be Aarushi. I’ve heard about you.”
Aarushi blinked.
“You have?”
Mira looked briefly uncomfortable.
“I… might have mentioned you.”
Something in that admission warmed Aarushi—and confused her.
The three of them stood together awkwardly.
Naina was easy. Confident. She filled silences without effort, talking about exhibitions, travels, people Aarushi didn’t know.
Mira listened, nodded, added comments here and there.
Aarushi listened too—but she felt like an observer in a sketch she didn’t belong to.
When Naina checked her phone, she groaned.
“I have to run. Dinner with my cousin. Mira, we’ll catch up later?”
Mira nodded. “Text me.”
Naina waved at Aarushi. “Nice meeting you.”
Then she was gone.
The air felt different after that.
They stood in silence for a moment.
“I didn’t know she was coming today,” Mira said finally, as if sensing the shift. “She just… showed up.”
Aarushi shrugged. “You don’t need to explain.”
Mira studied her face.
“But I want to.”
That stopped Aarushi.
“I didn’t feel like interrupting,” Mira continued. “But you were quiet.”
“I’m always quiet,” Aarushi replied gently.
Mira didn’t smile at that.
They walked, but not in the usual direction.
Their steps didn’t match like they usually did.
“So,” Mira said, trying for lightness, “how was your day?”
“Fine,” Aarushi said.
The word landed flat.
Mira exhaled slowly.
“Okay. What’s wrong?”
Aarushi hesitated.
This was the moment she usually chose silence.
But something in her was tired of holding back.
“I didn’t realize,” she said carefully, “that I’d feel… displaced so easily.”
Mira stopped walking.
“What do you mean?”
Aarushi turned to face her.
“I know we never defined anything,” she said. “I know you don’t owe me explanations. But seeing you with someone who knows you better, longer—”
She stopped.
“I felt unnecessary,” she finished softly.
Mira’s expression shifted—surprise, then understanding.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
They stood there, streetlight humming above them.
“I’m sorry,” Mira said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“I know,” Aarushi replied. “That’s the worst part.”
They sat on a bench nearby.
Not close this time.
Space existed again—and it felt louder than before.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re competing with anyone,” Mira said. “Naina is… history.”
Aarushi nodded.
“And I don’t want to feel like I’m asking for reassurance.”
Mira leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“Can I be honest?” she asked.
Aarushi nodded.
“I’m scared of leaning again,” Mira said. “And sometimes that makes me forget that distance can hurt too.”
Aarushi’s throat tightened.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” she said.
A bus passed.
Neither of them moved.
Mira turned toward her, voice quieter now.
“I don’t talk about you casually,” she said. “If I mention you, it means something.”
Aarushi looked at her then—really looked.
“You matter,” Mira added.
The words settled gently, undoing some of the tension.
Not all.
But enough.
That night, they didn’t linger.
They parted earlier than usual.
No promises. No dramatic goodbye.
Just a shared look that said—we’re still here.
At home, Aarushi lay awake longer than she wanted to.
She realized something important.
She wasn’t jealous of Naina.
She was afraid of disappearing.
And that fear had been with her long before Mira.
Across the city, Mira flipped through her sketchbook.
Pages filled with half-finished drawings.
Moments. Silences. Almost-touching lines.
She stopped at one page.
Two figures.
One slightly faded.
She closed the book quickly.
“No,” she whispered.
“Not again.”
End of Part
