**Chapter 24
Between Calls, Confessions & Quiet Longings**
The house felt different after that night.
Not because anything had changed publicly.
But because everything had changed silently.
Suhani woke up with swollen eyes and a heart that felt lighter than it had in months. The smallest star had finally spoken. And the sky had answered.
Her phone vibrated at 7:12 a.m.
**Dhruv:** *Did you sleep?*
She smiled at the screen.
**Suhani:** *Barely.*
Three dots appeared instantly.
**Dhruv:** *Because of me?*
She bit her lip.
**Suhani:** *Because someone finally decided to stop acting like a silent saint.*
A pause.
Then—
**Dhruv:** *I was never a saint. I was just scared.*
Her fingers froze.
*Scared?*
That word coming from Dhruv Khanna felt unreal.
**Suhani:** *Of what?*
His reply came slower this time.
**Dhruv:** *Of losing you before I ever had you.*
Her heart softened.
She typed, deleted, typed again.
**Suhani:** *You already had me. You just never claimed me.*
There was no reply for a full minute.
Then her phone rang.
She inhaled deeply before answering.
“Good morning,” his voice came low, warm, slightly rough.
“Good morning,” she replied, trying not to sound breathless.
There was silence.
But not awkward.
Just… charged.
“Suhani,” he said quietly, “say it again.”
She knew what he meant.
“Which part?”
“That you love me.”
She laughed softly. “You’re shameless.”
“Only with you.”
She walked toward the window, sunlight touching her face.
“I love you, Dhruv,” she whispered.
On the other end, he closed his eyes.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, “how many years I’ve waited to hear that.”
—
Days passed like this.
Long chats.
Midnight calls.
Voice notes filled with teasing and tenderness.
He would send her pictures of his coffee with captions like:
*‘Missing my sugar.’*
She would reply:
*‘Try adding courage instead.’*
He started calling her “Baby Star.”
“Goodnight, Baby Star.”
“Have you eaten, Baby Star?”
“You shine too much when you’re angry.”
She rolled her eyes every time.
But she saved every message.
—
One evening, while she was cooking pasta for herself, her phone buzzed again.
**Dhruv:** *Truth or Dare?*
She smiled instantly.
**Suhani:** *Truth.*
**Dhruv:** *When did you realize you loved me?*
She froze mid-step.
The pasta water boiled loudly.
“I don’t know,” she said softly into the call he had already placed.
“Try,” he insisted gently.
She leaned against the counter.
“Maybe… when I stopped checking if you were looking at me… and started feeling it even when you weren’t.”
He inhaled sharply.
“My turn,” she said.
“Dare.”
“Come downstairs.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Come downstairs. Right now.”
He was quiet for a second.
Then he laughed softly. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Five minutes later, she saw his car headlights outside.
Her heart raced.
She stepped out, pretending casualness.
He stepped out too.
Black t-shirt. Hands in pockets. That familiar composed aura.
Except his eyes were different now.
Softer.
“Dare accepted,” he said.
She walked closer.
“You look different,” he whispered.
“How?”
“Like you’re not afraid of loving me anymore.”
She looked up at him.
“I was never afraid of loving you.”
“Then?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t catch me if I fell.”
His voice lowered.
“I built an empire to catch you.”
Her breath hitched.
They didn’t touch.
But the air between them felt like a promise.
—
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Niddhi stared at her phone screen.
No new messages.
No missed calls.
Rohan had landed abroad two days ago.
He had informed her politely.
Formally.
*“Take care.”*
That was it.
She had replied:
*“You too.”*
And then silence.
She hated herself for expecting more.
For wanting him to say, *“I’ll miss you.”*
For hoping he would call at least once after landing.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her chest felt heavy.
Why does absence scream louder than presence?
—
That Friday, Suhani noticed Niddhi’s dull eyes.
“Game night,” she declared suddenly.
“What?” Niddhi frowned.
“Tonight. At Dhruv’s place. No excuses.”
Niddhi tried to protest, but Suhani didn’t allow it.
“Trust me,” she said softly. “Sometimes you need noise to quiet your mind.”
—
That evening, the living room was filled with fairy lights, soft music, and cushions scattered everywhere.
Dhruv had arranged snacks himself.
“You cooked?” Suhani teased.
“Don’t insult my masculinity,” he replied dramatically.
She laughed.
Niddhi forced a smile as she entered.
Dhruv noticed immediately.
He exchanged a glance with Suhani.
They understood.
Tonight wasn’t just about games.
It was about healing.
—
They sat in a circle.
“Truth or Dare?” Suhani began.
“Truth,” Niddhi said immediately.
“What hurts more?” Suhani asked gently. “Distance… or silence?”
Niddhi’s eyes filled instantly.
“Silence,” she whispered. “Distance at least has geography. Silence has doubt.”
The room grew quiet.
Dhruv looked at Suhani.
His voice softened.
“My turn. Truth or Dare, Baby Star?”
She blushed at the nickname.
“Truth.”
“Do you trust me?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then trust that I will never choose silence with you.”
Her throat tightened.
—
Later, they switched to lighter dares.
“Dare,” Suhani said mischievously.
“Okay,” Dhruv replied cautiously.
“Say the cheesiest romantic line you can.”
He leaned back, thinking dramatically.
Then he looked directly into her eyes.
“Teri muskurahat mere liye sirf khushi nahi… ibadat hai.
Je tu mere naal hove, taan har raat chandni ban jaave.
Teri har saans mere dil di dhadkan vich vasdi ae…
Mainu duniya nahi chahidi, bas tera haath chahida.”
Suhani stared at him.
“That wasn’t cheesy,” she whispered.
“That was unfair.”
He shrugged lightly. “I don’t flirt casually. I mean it.”
Niddhi smiled faintly watching them.
For a moment, she forgot her own ache.
—
Later in the night, when Niddhi went to the balcony for air, Suhani followed.
“You miss him,” Suhani said gently.
Niddhi nodded.
“I thought I was stronger.”
“You are,” Suhani replied. “But strength doesn’t cancel longing.”
Niddhi looked at her.
“How did you survive loving someone who never confessed?”
Suhani smiled softly.
“I survived because I knew his silence had depth. If it had been emptiness… I would’ve left.”
“And what if Rohan’s silence is emptiness?”
Suhani placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Then you deserve someone whose silence is full of you.”
Niddhi’s eyes shimmered.
—
Inside, Dhruv watched Suhani through the glass door.
The way she comforted.
The way she listened.
He felt something beyond romance.
Pride.
Love wasn’t just desire.
It was witnessing someone’s kindness and wanting to protect it.
—
Later, when everyone had left except Suhani, she sat beside him on the couch.
“You handled tonight well,” she said softly.
“I learned from you.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
He froze slightly.
Then relaxed.
“Suhani?”
“Hm?”
“If someday your family says no…”
She lifted her head instantly.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“I’m serious,” he insisted gently. “If they say no, will you fight?”
She looked into his eyes.
“I fought myself for years. You think I won’t fight the world?”
He smiled faintly.
“And you?”
He answered without hesitation.
“I have fought boardrooms, competitors, and storms. But if I ever fight your father… I will do it with folded hands.”
Her heart melted.
“You really are dramatic.”
“Only for my Baby Star.”
She rolled her eyes.
But her fingers intertwined with his.
—
At 1:30 a.m., he walked her to her car.
“Call me when you reach,” he said automatically.
“Yes, husband.”
He froze.
“What did you say?”
She laughed and got into the car.
He stood there smiling like a teenager.
—
That night, while Suhani slept peacefully, Niddhi stared at Rohan’s last message again.
She typed:
*“Do you miss India?”*
Then deleted it.
Then typed:
*“Do you miss me?”*
Deleted again.
Instead, she wrote:
*“Hope you’re settling well.”*
He replied after ten minutes.
*“Yes. Busy. Take care.”*
Her chest tightened.
Silence again.
—
Back in his room, Dhruv stared at his phone too.
At Suhani’s sleeping selfie she had sent jokingly.
*“Proof that I sleep like an angel.”*
He smiled.
Then whispered into the darkness:
“I won’t let you feel like the smallest star again.”
Outside, the sky held only five visible stars.
But somewhere between calls, confessions, and quiet promises—
Two hearts had finally learned to shine together.
And somewhere else—
One heart was still waiting for its sky to answer.
