Mira noticed it first in the silence.
Not the absence of sound but the way the world seemed to slow whenever Aarav was near.
As if time itself leaned in, curious about what they might do next.
They stood across from each other in the empty corridor outside the archive room.
The lights above flickered softly, casting shadows that felt too intimate for strangers.
Aarav looked at her.
Not quickly.
Not casually.
He looked at her the way someone looks when they are memorizing something they might lose.
Mira’s breath caught.
“You’re staring,” she said, trying to sound calm. She failed.
“I know,” Aarav replied.
That honesty startled her.
He didn’t look away.
Neither did she.
There was something dangerous about the way his eyes held hers steady, searching, full of words he refused to speak.
Mira felt exposed, like he could see through every layer she had built around herself.
“You found the file,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I needed to,” she replied.
“Because every time you walk away from me, it feels like you’re leaving something unfinished.”
His jaw tightened.
For a second, she thought he would turn away again.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Not touching.
Not crossing the line.
Just close enough.
The space between them felt charged.
“If you keep pulling at this thread,” Aarav said, voice low, “you’re going to unravel things you don’t know how to fix.”
Mira tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze.
“What if I don’t want everything fixed?”
That did it.
Something broke behind his eyes.
Not loudly. But enough.
He inhaled sharply, like he had forgotten how to breathe around her.
Mira noticed the smallest details the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand curled slowly at his side, stopping itself from reaching for her.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said.
“Then explain it to me,” she whispered.
“Don’t protect me by disappearing.
Protect me by telling me the truth.”
For a long moment, Aarav said nothing.
Then, very softly, “Every time I look at you, I remember endings.”
Her heart ached.
“And what do you remember when you don’t look at me?”
His eyes softened despite himself.
“You.”
That single word landed heavier than any confession.
Mira stepped closer without thinking.
They were inches apart now.
She could feel the warmth of him, the restraint, the history she didn’t remember but somehow carried in her bones.
Her hand lifted slightly hesitant, unsure.
Aarav noticed.
“Don’t,” he said, almost a plea.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because if you touch me,” he replied, voice barely holding together, “I won’t be strong enough to stop myself next time.”
Her fingers trembled. Slowly, she lowered her hand.
But she didn’t step back.
Neither did he.
They stood there two people fighting gravity, time, and themselves.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly.
A warning.
Or a promise.
Aarav finally broke the moment by turning away, his expression locked back into control.
“I can’t stay,” he said.
“But you should know something.”
Mira looked at him, waiting.
“In every version of the world,” he continued, “you are the reason I fail.”
She frowned. “Fail at what?”
He paused at the door.
“At letting you go.”
Then he was gone.
Mira stood alone, heart racing, one truth settling deep inside her:
Whatever rule Aarav was trying to follow
the universe was already preparing to break it.
Hey my lovely readers 🤍
My name is Aarushi Singh Rajput, you can call me Aaru.
If you’re reading this, thank you for staying with my story.
I really want to grow as a writer, but sometimes I feel confused about what works and what doesn’t.
🙏 Please comment and tell me my mistakes.
Please don’t forget to give a review.
I truly need your help if you can guide me, suggest improvements, or tell me what you’re feeling while reading, it will mean a lot to me.
Your support helps me understand how to make this story better.
Thank you for being here with me 🤍
— Aaru
