HANDKERCHIEF
VIYANA SINCLAIR
We finally stepped into the temple, pushing through the heavy crowd that moved like waves, brushing past us, pulling us back, refusing to let us move forward easily.
My fingers never left his sleeve.
Not even for a second.
He turned back again and again, his eyes searching for me in that crowd even though I was right behind him, as if he was making sure I had not disappeared into the chaos.
And somehow—
That silent checking made my stomach twist.
When we finally made it inside, the noise softened a little, turning into a distant echo of chants and bells.
He turned to look at me.
His eyes searched my face like he wanted to ask something.
But he didn’t.
I slowly let go of his sleeve, my fingers slipping away from the only thing that kept me steady in that crowd.
“You go… I will wait here,” I muttered, my voice quiet as I stepped back and leaned against one of the stone pillars.
Without waiting for his response, I slowly sat down, the coolness of the floor grounding me as I pulled my saree closer.
He stood there for a second.
Looking at me.
And then he left.
Just like that.
My fingers absentmindedly played with the end of my pallu as my gaze wandered around the temple.
People came in groups.
Families.
Children clinging to their parents.
Elders guiding them gently.
Couples standing side by side.
There was laughter.
Soft conversations.
Shared prayers.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched them.
Not because I was happy—
But because something inside me softened at the sight.
These small moments…
So simple.
So ordinary.
And yet…
So distant from my life.
I had everything.
Money.
Power.
Control.
But somewhere in all of that—
I had lost this.
The warmth of belonging.
The quiet comfort of being someone’s person.
My fingers stilled for a moment on the fabric.
Maybe…
In having everything—
I had unknowingly given up on the only things that actually mattered.
My eyes found him.
Out of the endless crowd, out of the countless unfamiliar faces moving around me, speaking, praying, living their own moments—my eyes still found him as if they were drawn by something deeper than sight, something that refused to let me look anywhere else.
He stood there, just another man among ordinary people, yet he did not feel ordinary to me in that moment, not when his entire presence seemed to quiet the chaos around him.
His gaze was fixed on the deity, unwavering, almost devoted, and his face…
It was not the face I knew.
Not the one that frowned at my every word, not the one that held irritation like it belonged there, not the one that carried distance so effortlessly.
This face—
Was calm.
Unbelievably calm.
As if something within him had softened, as if something unseen had gently wrapped around him and taken away the sharp edges I was so used to.
There was a strange kind of peace resting on his features, something so humane, so real, that it made my breath hitch without warning.
He slowly brought his palms together, pressing them firmly, his fingers aligning perfectly as he closed his eyes, and in that single moment—
He looked like someone who had surrendered everything he carried.
The noise of the temple, the ringing bells, the murmured prayers, the restless movement of people—everything faded into something distant, something I could no longer hold onto, because my entire world had narrowed down to him.
And when he opened his eyes—
I saw it.
That faint glisten.
That fragile layer of unshed tears resting quietly in his eyes, refusing to fall, yet refusing to hide.
My chest tightened instantly, painfully, as if something invisible had wrapped around my heart and pulled it just a little too hard.
My fingers curled slowly on my lap, fidgeting without purpose, as if they were trying to steady something inside me that had suddenly gone out of control.
Why is he crying?
The question formed in my mind, but it did not come with urgency… it came with something heavier, something softer, something I didn’t want to name.
And I didn’t understand why.
I didn’t understand why my heart felt this heavy…
Why my breath felt uneven…
Why his silent tears, hidden in a place meant for faith and devotion, were affecting me in ways I had no control over.
I watched him in silence, my entire being stilled as if even the smallest movement from me would break something fragile in that moment, my eyes refusing to leave him as though they had forgotten how to look elsewhere.
And then—
Without warning—
His eyes turned.
Towards me.
My breath hitched so suddenly that it felt like it had been stolen right out of my chest, leaving me stranded in that single second where time stretched painfully long.
Panic rushed through me, sharp and unprepared, and I immediately looked away, my gaze dropping as if I had been caught doing something I was never meant to do.
What the fuck
My thoughts stumbled over themselves, unable to form anything coherent, as my breathing turned uneven, each inhale heavier than the last, each exhale failing to calm the storm rising inside me.
My heart thudded violently against my ribs, loud and restless, as if it was trying to escape the cage of my chest, betraying everything I was trying so hard to hide.
I pressed my fingers tightly against my lap, grounding myself, but it did nothing.
Because even though I had looked away— I could still feel it.
His gaze.
Lingering.
It felt like I had suddenly turned into some foolish schoolgirl who had been caught staring at her teenage crush without realizing it, the kind of embarrassment that burns quietly under the skin, making you hyper-aware of your own existence in a way that feels both ridiculous and impossible to escape.
My thoughts scattered, my composure slipping in ways I wasn’t used to, and for a moment I didn’t even recognize myself in that feeling.
And before I could gather myself back—
He started walking toward me.
And then he sat down beside me.
Quietly.
Without a word.
The distance between us was small…
Too small.
My heart reacted instantly, panic rising for no logical reason, beating faster as if it was responding to something I refused to acknowledge.
I turned my head slightly and looked at him.
He wasn’t looking at me.
He just sat there, his gaze drifting around the temple, calm, composed, as if nothing had happened between us just moments ago.
As if I hadn’t just been caught in something I didn’t understand.
But the moment he sensed my gaze—
He turned.
And just like that—
I looked away again.
Quickly.
Like I had touched fire.
Silence stretched between us, thick and uneasy, and I could feel myself suffocating under it.
“I-Is today any religious day?” I asked, my voice coming out softer, uneven, as I tried to distract myself from everything that was happening inside me. “There are a lot of people…”
He hummed in response.
I pressed my lips together slightly.
“Why did you suddenly decide to come here?” I asked again, forcing the conversation forward, not because I needed answers—
But because I needed something to hold onto.
Something normal.
Something that didn’t feel like this.
He didn’t respond immediately.
He stayed silent.
And for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer at all.
But then—
“Today is my birthday,” he muttered.
Simple and flat.
Like it was just another fact.
Nothing more.
My eyes widened instantly as I turned to him, my gaze searching his face unconsciously, as if I expected to find something there—
A hint of happiness.
A trace of excitement.
Even the smallest smile.
But there was nothing.
No light.
No warmth.
Just silence.
His eyes were fixed on the floor, distant, unreadable, as if that day held no meaning for him at all.
And somehow—
That emptiness in his expression tightened my chest.
I slowly held out my hand toward him, the gesture feeling strangely intimate in a way I hadn’t expected, my fingers hovering in the space between us as I looked at him.
“Happy birthday,” I said softly.
My voice carried something unfamiliar—something gentler than usual.
He didn’t respond immediately.
His eyes dropped to my hand, lingering there for a second, before lifting back to my face, as if he was trying to understand what I was doing… or why I was doing it.
So I smiled.
Not my usual teasing grin.
Not something dramatic.
But something softer.
Something I didn’t even realize I was capable of giving him.
Because for the first time—
He didn’t look like someone I wanted to annoy.
He looked… sad.
And for some reason—
I didn’t like it.
My gaze flickered down, and that’s when I noticed it.
His fingers.
Trembling slightly on his lap.
My brows furrowed unconsciously.
Why is he panicking for something like this?
It’s just a birthday wish.
When he still didn’t move, didn’t take my hand.
I sighed softly and leaned a little closer.
I groaned under my breath before reaching down and taking his hand from his lap myself.
His hand felt warm.
And slightly tense.
I wrapped my fingers around his and shook it lightly, a grin slowly spreading across my face.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Justice Saviour,” I said playfully, a soft chuckle slipping out of me.
And then —
I saw it.
That faint, almost invisible smile.
It touched his lips for just a second, like something fragile that wasn’t meant to be seen.
But he noticed it too.
He bit his lower lip quickly, trying to hide it, turning his face away as if that tiny expression was something he wasn’t allowed to have.
And I…
Froze.
Because something inside me twisted unexpectedly.
My stomach fluttered in a way I couldn’t explain, a strange warmth spreading through me that made no sense at all.
I slowly let go of his hand, my fingers lingering for a fraction longer than they should have before pulling away.
I leaned back slightly, giving him a side glance, trying to bring back my usual chaotic self.
Trying to hide whatever that was.
“So…” I dragged the word lightly, raising an eyebrow, “treat?”
I asked, teasing him.
He turned to glare at me immediately.
And just like that....
Something normal returned between us.
“So that’s why you took a day off today?” I asked, my voice carrying a hint of casual curiosity, though my eyes were still fixed on him, searching for something I couldn’t name.
He shook his head slowly.
“No… I didn’t take a day off,” he muttered, his tone quiet, almost indifferent. “I have to go back to work in the afternoon.”
I stared at him for a second.
Then let out a soft breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
“It’s your birthday,” I said, my voice soft but firm, as if reminding him of something he had forgotten. “At least today… be happy.”
He turned his head and looked at me.
“Why?” he asked. “Do I look sad?”
I nodded immediately.
Yes.
Because he did.
Because even when he was quiet, even when he wasn’t saying anything—
There was something in him that felt… heavy.
My fingers curled slightly in my lap as I held his gaze for a second longer than usual.
He said nothing.
Not even a word.
I lowered my gaze to the floor, watching nothing in particular while he sat beside me, his fingers absentmindedly playing with each other as if they carried thoughts he refused to let slip through his lips.
Time stretched quietly around us, unhurried and still, and for a few moments, it felt as though the world had paused just enough for us to exist in that fragile, unspoken space.
And then—
He stood up.
I instinctively mirrored him, rising to my feet as I dusted off my saree, my fingers smoothing the fabric more out of nervousness than necessity.
“Let’s go,” he muttered, his voice returning to that familiar calmness, as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had shifted between us.
He walked ahead.
And I followed.
The crowd outside was still relentless, people moving in waves that felt impossible to cross without losing yourself somewhere in between.
A quiet unease crept into me again, subtle but persistent, and before I could stop myself—
My hand reached out.
And held onto the sleeve of his shirt.
He stopped.
Right in the middle of his step.
And turned to look at me.
My breath faltered for a second, and I immediately thought of pulling my hand back.
But before I could—
He moved.
Slowly.
He slipped his sleeve out of my hold, it felt like I had crossed a line I shouldn’t have.
But then—
His hand found mine.
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, his touch warm, steady, grounding in a way I hadn’t expected.
My breath caught in my throat, my heart skipping into an uneven rhythm as I stood there, caught in that simple yet overwhelming gesture.
And without looking back—
He turned away again.
Still holding me.
And began walking forward, guiding me through the crowd that no longer felt as suffocating as before.
People brushed past us, voices echoed, the chaos continued—
But none of it reached me.
Because all I could feel…
Was the warmth of his hand around my wrist.
Soon, we stepped out of the temple, leaving behind the echoes of bells and murmured prayers, only to be greeted by a different kind of chaos—the place where we had parked the bike now crowded with vehicles that stood pressed against each other like they had grown roots there.
He let go of my wrist.
And though it was expected, something about the absence of his touch felt… noticeable.
I stood a little away, watching him as he moved into that clutter of vehicles with quiet patience, carefully making his way through the narrow spaces as if he had done this a hundred times before.
There was no hurry in him.
No frustration.
Just that same calm I had seen inside the temple lingering in his movements.
He bent slightly and wore his footwear, and only then did I notice—
My slippers were in his hands.
He hadn’t forgotten them.
He didn’t call me to take them.
My eyes followed him silently as he pulled the bike out with ease, maneuvering it through the tight space before finally stopping right in front of me.
Without looking at me properly, he bent a little and placed my slippers gently near my feet, as if it was the most natural thing to do.
Something warm stirred inside me.
A small, quiet smile found its way to my lips without my permission.
I quickly slipped my feet into them, my fingers adjusting the straps absentmindedly before I looked up.
He was already on the bike, wearing his helmet, ready to leave.
And then...
He held his hand out to me.
Casually.
Like before.
I smiled at his hand for a brief second, something soft and unfamiliar settling in my chest, before placing my hand in his.
He steadied me as I got onto the bike carefully, my saree gathered in one hand, my balance depending on his hold for just a moment longer than necessary.
He started the bike calmly, as if nothing had shifted between us, as if the quiet moments we had shared were just another part of an ordinary day, but inside me—everything felt different.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to contain the strange warmth creeping up my face, the kind that made no sense and yet refused to leave.
My lips twitched on their own, threatening to curve into a smile I didn’t even understand, as if my mind had found a reason to be happy… without asking me.
It was ridiculous.
Soon, the bike slowed down and stopped in front of the house.
I got down carefully, adjusting my saree, but when I turned—
He hadn’t moved.
He was still sitting there.
I frowned slightly, confusion flickering across my face as I looked at him.
He calmly tucked his hand into his pocket, taking out the house key, and held it out toward me.
“Please take my bag from inside,” he said.
“You’re going straight to the hospital?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended, something almost like disappointment slipping through without my permission.
He nodded.
I turned away quickly, not wanting him to notice anything on my face, and walked toward the door, unlocking it and stepping inside.
The house felt the same.
But I didn’t.
I picked up his bag and turned back, walking toward the door again, but before stepping out—
I paused.
Through the doorway, I saw him.
Still on the bike.
He had taken off his helmet, his hair slightly messy, his forehead damp with sweat as he ran his hand across it, wiping it away in a tired, absent motion.
Something in my chest shifted.
Without thinking further, I turned back inside, my steps quicker this time, and grabbed my handkerchief.
When I walked back to him, I held out his bag first.
He took it and slung it over his shoulder.
And then—
I extended the handkerchief toward him.
He looked at it.
For a second.
Then at me.
Something unreadable passed through his eyes before he quietly took it from my hand and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Then he slowly tucked it inside his pocket.
He adjusted himself on the bike and started it again.
“Bye…” I muttered softly.
He didn’t reply.
Didn’t turn.
He just hummed faintly—
And rode away.
Leaving behind the fading sound of the engine…
And something else—
Something quiet…
That stayed with me long after he was gone.