I entered the café. It was still ten minutes before our scheduled time, but my eyes scanned the room anyway. No matter the crowd, I could always spot her.
She was by the window, dressed in a soft yellow dress that danced around her like sunlight. Her gaze was distant, lost in something beyond the glass, her fingers gently tracing patterns on the table.
"Hey, did I keep you waiting?" I asked, finally reaching her.
She turned to me with that same flower-like smile - but this time, it hurt. Like a thorn hidden beneath the petals.
I took the seat opposite her, just like always.
Somehow, I missed to realize. When did she start putting on so much makeup? Given how lovesick I am, I failed to notice this before.
"About last night… I'm sorry," she said, the smile on her lip's apologetic, but her eyes gave away something heavier.
"No, Mira. It was on me," I replied, exhaling the breath I'd unknowingly held in. "I rushed things. I just… I thought, I was sure."
She gently reached out and placed her hand on mine, warm and trembling slightly.
"I love you, Abhi." Her words were soft, almost fragile, like they could break if spoken louder. I locked eyes with her, the weight of last night still hanging between us.
"I lo - "
"But the things you texted me yesterday…" she interrupted, her tone shifting.
I froze. The blood drained from my face.
She leaned in, her brows furrowed with concern. "Why did you say all that? It felt like… you thought I was leaving you."
I looked away, my throat tight. "I… I panicked. I thought I ruined everything."
A pause. Just her fingers tightening over mine.
"Nothing is more valuable than your life itself."
I might not agree on that part, but as reading my mind she tightened her grip on my hand.
"Next time, talk to me - not to the void."
"So, did you read it all?"
"Yeah… of course I did."
She released her gentle grip on my arm and picked up the menu, scanning it like she hadn't already memorized every word. A familiar move - her way of avoiding eye contact when her thoughts are storming inside.
Then, as if the decision had just formed in her mind, she stood up.
"Let's go for a walk," she said, nudging her chin toward the door.
"Okay," I replied, getting to my feet. But my eyes stayed fixed on her, searching for answers hidden behind that calm exterior.
She walked ahead, her steps purposeful. I followed - silent, uncertain, caught between hope and dread.
Inside, my instincts screamed to break the silence. A joke, a memory, anything. Because this quiet… it wasn't peace. It was pain wrapped in restraint.
We stopped near a bench under the fading sky. She turned to face me, her voice soft, but weighted with something final.
"Abhi… sometimes, when we rush into things, we miss the chance to understand if what we feel is real - or just the comfort of the moment."
Her words hit harder than I expected. But I didn't hesitate.
"I know what I feel, Mira. Every word I said yesterday… every second I've spent with you… it's all real. You're not just someone I love. You're my tomorrow."
Our eyes locked - two stories trying to read between unspoken lines.
Then she inhaled deeply and said:
"I know," she said quietly. "And I believe you, Abhi. That's why I need to know if it's the same for me."
I tilted my head, confused. "What do you mean?"
Those words wounded my already fragile heart, leaving behind a dull ache.
She glanced up at the cloudy sky, as if trying to borrow strength from the wind. Then, she looked back at me - eyes glistening but unwavering.
"I want to take seven days... just seven days of silence. No calls, no texts, no seeing each other."
The air left my lungs. The words echoed in my head like a bell that wouldn't stop ringing.
"Why?" I whispered, barely audible. My throat was dry, my hands clenched by my sides.
"Because..." she stepped closer, her fingers gently grazing mine, "...if I still ache for you after these seven days, if your name still echoes in my heart even when there's nothing but silence... then I'll know it's love - not just comfort in chaos."
I wanted to scream. To tell her I didn't need silence to know what I felt.
"But why do you need to prove anything?" My voice cracked.
"This - right here - is everything we need, Mira."
She smiled - sad, resolved.
"I know."
But my words floated past her like feathers in a storm, too light to change her mind.
"Don't try to convince me. Not now. Let time do it. And let me find my answer in the silence."
And just like that, she leaned in and placed a kiss on my cheek - soft, uncertain, final.
Then she turned and walked away.
I stood frozen in place, like the world had paused, and I was the only one who hadn't gotten the memo.
I wanted to run after her, to call her name.
But my legs stayed rooted.
And my heart... was already halfway through the seven days.
***
I don't even remember how I got back. The whole ride home was a blur - just headlights, red signals, and the hollow sound of silence filling the car.
When I walked into the flat, Liam was sprawled on the couch, game controller in hand and half a sandwich dangling from his mouth.
"Back so soo - "
He paused mid-sentence, noticing the look on my face.
"You look like you just watched your favorite character die in real life."
I tossed the keys on the table and sank into the couch like I'd aged ten years in an hour.
"She wants seven days of silence," I muttered.
"What seven days?" I explained him what all storms blew on me today. The meet, her confession and her challenge.
He blinked, sandwich still in hand. "Wait... what? What kind of Game of Thrones plot twist is that?"
I didn't respond. I just sat there, staring at the floor like it would give me answers Mira didn't.
Liam stood up, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you serious right now? That's so... stupid. You poured your heart out and now she wants to play hide and seek?"
"Don't." I didn't even look up, but he stopped. The frustration in his face slowly melted away when he saw how broken I was.
He sighed and plopped next to me, tossing the sandwich aside.
"Alright. Sorry, bro. That was out of line."
A pause.
"Seven days, huh?" He nudged me with his elbow.
"We've survived engineering viva weeks and my cooking experiments. This? It'll pass like a breeze."
I gave a weak laugh, and for the first time since she walked away, it didn't feel forced.