It was a quiet Sunday night.
The kind where silence didn't ask for noise - just truth.
Shruthi sat near her window, moonlight brushing her face. Arjun lay on his bed, earphones in, her voice just a breath away.
They weren't laughing tonight.
They weren't reminiscing.
They were finally ready to talk about what was never said.
"Can I ask you something?" Arjun's voice was soft.
"Anything," Shruthi replied, heart tightening.
"Why did you stop calling? Why did you let me feel so… forgotten?"
Silence.
Then Shruthi spoke, her words cracking like leaves underfoot.
"Because I thought… if I slowed down, I'd fall apart. I missed you every day. But missing you hurt more when I let myself feel it. So I buried it in work. I told myself I was doing it for us."
Arjun blinked away the sting in his eyes.
"And when I told you I felt lonely?"
"I didn't know how to hold your pain when mine was drowning me. I was scared that if I said the wrong thing, I'd lose you anyway."
She paused, then added:
"But the truth is, I did lose pieces of you. Every time I didn't reply. Every time I said 'later' and didn't call. And I'm sorry, Arjun. Not for the distance. But for making you feel unloved inside it."
There was no anger in his silence. Just sadness - and a strange peace.
"I wasn't perfect either," Arjun whispered.
"I gave up on the things I loved and waited for you to notice. I should've told you I was struggling. I shouldn't have worn silence like loyalty."
They sat in that raw honesty, breathing through years of unsaid feelings.
And then, gently, Shruthi asked:
"Do you still believe in us?"
Arjun didn't hesitate.
"Every single day I woke up without you… I still did."
That night, there were no promises. No plans.
Just two voices carrying the weight of old wounds - and the hope that maybe, just maybe, love could still lead them home.