The transfer papers were in motion.
Shruthi had initiated it quietly, not telling even her parents. It was personal. Sacred. For once, a decision entirely for them.
Every morning now began with a video call - Shruthi brushing her hair as Arjun made his coffee. Sometimes they didn't speak much. But the silence wasn't cold anymore. It was shared.
They had stopped blaming.
Stopped proving.
They were just being.
One night, Shruthi texted:
"Do you remember our first apartment? The one with the leaky tap and a thousand lizards?"
Arjun laughed.
"How could I forget? You made me a lizard killer and a plumber in one week."
She replied:
"I miss that chaos. I miss us waking up in that tiny room, fighting for blanket space, then ending up hugging each other to sleep."
He stared at the screen, his heart full.
"We'll find that again. Maybe not the lizards. But the us."
Meanwhile, Shruthi started writing letters again - something she hadn't done since college.
Not to post. Just to feel.
"Dear Arjun,
I know I broke the rhythm of us. I thought love would wait while life happened. But love… it aches in waiting. I see that now. I feel it. And I miss you in everything - the smell of rain, the sound of pressure cookers, the songs I stopped singing."
She folded the letter and slipped it under her pillow.
She was no longer just working on her career.
She was working on their return.
In India, Arjun had begun planning small surprises.
He had found an apartment they once liked - newly renovated. He didn't book it. But he imagined them there. Together
They weren't perfect.
But they were finally moving in the same direction - not just geographically, but emotionally.
And every step toward each other felt like healin