The clock blinked 11:37 PM. Shruthi stared at it from bed, her phone screen lighting up with one last email for the day. But that wasn't the glow keeping her awake.

It was the memory of Arjun's eyes from their last call - empty, like a sea with no tides.

She picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over the call button.

"What if he's asleep?"

"What if he doesn't pick up?"

"What if he's tired of trying?"

She put the phone down.

And then picked it up again.

Arjun was staring at his ceiling. His phone lay face-up beside him. He had a long day at work, but rest never came easy these days.

A soft buzz.

Incoming call: Shruthi.

His heart jumped - then slowed. He didn't know how to feel.

He waited a ring. Then two. Then answered.

"Hey?" he said softly.

There was a pause. That silence - heavier than any word either of them could say.

"I? I don't know why I waited this long," she whispered.

Arjun blinked.

Shruthi continued, voice trembling, "I miss you, Arjun. And not just in the moments between work calls. I miss you all the time. But I didn't know how to say it without sounding selfish."

He exhaled. "You're not selfish. You're just? distant."

"I don't want to be anymore," she replied.

They sat in the silence again - but this time, it wasn't cold. It was fragile, like the space between two people who still had love? but were learning to speak again.

"I thought you stopped caring," Arjun confessed. "It felt like I was loving alone."

Shruthi's voice cracked. "I care more than I know how to show."

They didn't fix everything that night.

But they talked. And cried. And laughed softly at a memory they both still held.

The call that almost didn't happen? became the one that began to stitch them back together.