Between Us

35

The next morning, sunlight spilled softly across the Oxford rooftops, the sky a pale blue with a faint chill still lingering in the air.

Vaani stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the creases of her dress—a deep navy, fitted at the waist, paired with skin-colored stockings that gave her legs a sharp elegance.

She slipped into her beige trench coat, tying the belt loosely, and for the first time in a long while, she caught herself smiling without realizing it.

Being back here—back in the city that had once felt like hers—warmed something inside her that had been dormant. She leaned closer to the mirror, fastening her earrings, her smile soft but real.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Dhruv walked out, towel-drying his hair.

He wore a simple, clean-cut shirt tucked into dark pants, his jacket draped casually over his arm.

Practical, understated. His eyes flicked to her once, and he paused for a heartbeat before saying, in his usual even tone, "Ready? "

Vaani turned, caught off guard at first, then gave a small nod, slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah."

They stepped out of the room together, the hallway carpet muffling their footsteps. As they made their way down to the breakfast lounge, there was a sense of quiet anticipation between them—nothing said outright, yet the day ahead hung between them like a folded map waiting to be opened.

At the breakfast table, they sat across from each other. The clatter of dishes and low hum of conversation filled the air. Vaani poured herself tea while Dhruv reached for the toast, the silence not awkward, but not easy either.

He finally broke it. "So," he said, buttering his bread. "Where are we going today?"

Her spoon hovered over her teacup, the steam curling upward. She blinked, thinking, and then half-asked, "You...?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Me?"

She set the spoon down gently. "I thought maybe you'd want to decide today."

"Nope." His answer was almost immediate, casual but certain. "We decided yesterday. It's up to you."

Her lips parted slightly before pressing together again. She looked down at her plate, fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly, a little flustered at being handed responsibility so directly.

"Right," she murmured. "Um..." She thought for a moment, trying to arrange her words carefully. "Maybe... we can see the uni first then?"

He gave a short nod, as if that was exactly what he'd expected her to say. "Sounds good."

Something in her chest eased, and she managed a small smile, sipping her tea to mask it.

After breakfast, they set out into the crisp Oxford morning.

The cobblestone streets stretched out ahead, lined with old brick walls and archways that carried centuries of stories.

Vaani walked a little ahead at times, her steps lighter than they'd been in days.

The city seemed to wake something in her—her pace, her posture, even the way her eyes lingered on buildings, catching details only someone who had lived here once would notice.

She reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and began snapping pictures of the streets, the bicycles leaning against walls, the old lampposts that curved gracefully over the pathways.

At one point she crouched a little to get the angle of a doorway framed by ivy, her trench coat falling neatly around her.

Dhruv watched quietly from a few paces back.

He wasn't one for pulling out his phone much unless necessary, but he found himself observing the way she framed things—the way her eyes lit when she caught a view she liked.

She wasn't smiling wide or laughing, but there was something softer about her face, something alive that he hadn't seen on her much before.

Occasionally, she would glance back at him, half to check if he was keeping up, half to see if he was watching. Each time, he gave the same calm nod, as if saying go on, I'm here.

As they drew closer to the heart of the university, the spires and towers rose above them in that distinct Oxford skyline, and Vaani slowed her steps.

Her gaze lifted, her lips parted slightly as though the sight itself tugged at her memories.

She stopped to take another picture, this time lingering longer before clicking, as if she wanted to imprint the feeling rather than the image.

Dhruv, hands in his pockets, watched the way she tilted her head, how careful she was with each shot. For a moment, he wasn't looking at the city at all—only at her.

They crossed a small square, where students hurried past with backpacks slung over their shoulders, bicycles weaving between the pedestrians.

Vaani felt a pang—nostalgia, a little bittersweet.

She tucked her phone away, wrapped her trench coat tighter around her, and said softly, "Feels like yesterday. "

Dhruv glanced at her, his voice low but curious. "You miss it?"

She gave a half-smile, not quite meeting his eyes. "Sometimes. But it feels different now. Like... it's mine, but it isn't."

He looked ahead again, thoughtful, letting her words hang.

She gestured toward a tall tower in the distance, pointing with a small smile. "That's the Radcliffe Camera. It used to be my favorite place. I'd just sit there and pretend I was doing serious research, when in reality I was scrolling on my phone."

That earned the faintest chuckle from him, short but genuine. "Good to know all students are the same everywhere."

She glanced sideways at him, her lips twitching. "You too?"

"Of course," he admitted. "The number of hours I wasted in libraries under the pretense of studying..." He shook his head slightly, the ghost of a smile on his face.

That small exchange seemed to ease something in her, the quiet between them less heavy now. She gestured again, her voice warming. "And over there—that's where I'd get coffee every morning before lectures. Honestly, half my student budget went into caffeine."

"And the other half?" he asked lightly.

She smirked, eyes glinting. "Books I didn't read."

He let out another soft laugh, and for a moment, the Oxford morning felt easier, like the city itself was gently drawing them closer to something unspoken.

The stone pathways of Oxford's main quadrangle stretched before them, bathed in the late morning light.

The grand gates stood tall, intricate ironwork gleaming faintly, as though time itself had polished it in reverence for the students who had passed through.

Vaani paused before them, pulling her trench coat closer.

Dhruv stopped beside her, watching the faint tension in her face. "You're hesitating."

She let out a breathy chuckle. "Well, yes. It's not exactly a tourist attraction... it's the university. I mean, I shouldn't still be able to walk in freely."

"You said you still had your ID," he reminded her, matter-of-fact as ever.

Her lips twisted. "That's... different. It's expired. They usually deactivate these after you graduate."

He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Only one way to know."

For a second, she looked at him, her heart skipping oddly at his calm confidence, as if he had more faith in her card than she did.

Then, with a small nod, she dug into her bag, fingers fishing out the faded blue-and-gold plastic.

Her student ID. The corner was slightly bent, the lamination peeling a little, but her photo still smiled back at her—the Vaani of two years ago, brighter-eyed, with long hair parted neatly and a certainty about her future.

She held it in her hand, chewing on her lip. "Okay. Let's embarrass myself."

The scanner blinked red at first as she swiped it, and her stomach dropped. Dhruv leaned slightly, peering at the device.

Then, with a soft beep, it lit green. The lock clicked open.

Vaani blinked, stunned. "Wait... what?"

Dhruv's mouth tugged into the smallest of smirks. "Guess Oxford still loves you."

She stared at the card like it had performed magic. "I can't believe that worked." Her surprise dissolved into a sudden burst of excitement, and she turned to him, her eyes bright. "Come on."

She tugged the heavy gate open, stepping inside.

The scent of old stone and polished wood hit her instantly, mingling with the faint sound of students' chatter echoing across the courtyard.

Dhruv followed, quieter but observant, his gaze roaming the historic arches and staircases, his long strides matching her quicker ones.

They walked slowly through the familiar paths. Vaani's steps grew softer, reverent almost, as her eyes lingered on doorways she had once rushed through, lecture halls where she had sat scribbling notes, windows that had framed sunsets during her late-night study sessions.

On one side, students hurried by with backpacks, some in lively conversation, others with coffee cups balanced precariously. It was strange, watching life continue without her, as though she had never left. She pressed her lips together, caught between nostalgia and awe.

Dhruv, meanwhile, took everything in silently. The symmetry of the quadrangles, the grandeur of the gothic windows, the quiet hum of knowledge that seemed to seep out of the very walls. He didn't interrupt her, but he noticed how her face softened here—lighter, younger somehow.

They passed a row of classrooms, and through a half-open door, they saw a lecture in progress.

Students were bent over notebooks, the professor pacing slowly, chalk in hand.

Vaani slowed, peering in quietly, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

Dhruv glanced at her, then at the scene, and said nothing, simply letting her stand there as long as she wanted.

Finally, she pulled herself away, continuing down the hallway. Just as they passed the corner, a door opened beside them.

"Vaani?"

The voice was warm, surprised, and immediately familiar to her ears. She turned, eyes widening.

Standing there was Professor Ellis—tall, bespectacled, with salt-and-pepper hair and that ever-present kind smile. He had been her tutor in her second year, someone who'd guided her not just academically but personally too.

"Professor!" Vaani's face broke into a genuine smile, her voice carrying more warmth than Dhruv had heard from her in days. She stepped closer. "Oh my God, it's so good to see you."

Ellis laughed softly, adjusting the stack of papers in his hands. "And I'm happy to see you too. Goodness, you haven't changed a bit." His eyes crinkled. Then, tilting his head, he asked with mock sternness, "But what are you doing here? You're not sneaking into classes again, are you?"

Vaani chuckled, cheeks warm. "No, no... I promise. I'm actually here on my honeymoon."

At that, the professor blinked, then laughed outright. "You got married? Congratulations! But... this is your honeymoon? And you've chosen to spend it wandering your old university halls? Only you, Vaani."

She laughed too, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag. "Well, my husband wanted to see Oxford."

Her words slipped out casually, but they seemed to land differently on Dhruv. The phrase my husband pulled at him in an unexpected way, a strange tingle low in his chest. It wasn't the word itself, but the way she said it—gently, almost shyly, as if she was still getting used to it.

Vaani, realizing she'd left him standing back, turned slightly. "Dhruv..."

Taking the cue, Dhruv stepped forward, offering a polite nod. "Good morning, Professor."

Ellis's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Ah. So this is the mysterious husband."

"Yes," Vaani said, her smile soft but genuine. "This is Dhruv."

"Dhruv Deshmukh," he introduced himself evenly, extending his hand.

"Professor Ellis," the man replied warmly, shaking it. Then he looked between them, clearly amused. "Well, I must say, I never imagined seeing you here, Vaani, of all places, on your honeymoon."

Vaani laughed nervously, her cheeks pink, "We were touring Scotland, then came here."

"I see," Ellis said before turning to Dhruv. "Tell me, how's it going with her? Still too much chitter-chatter?"

Dhruv blinked once, then glanced at Vaani—her eyes widening slightly in embarrassment, her lips pressing together like she wanted to disappear. His gaze softened briefly before he looked back at Ellis.

"Not so much yet," he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint hint of humor. "But I can see we're on that road."

The professor chuckled, clearly entertained. "Ah, that sounds about right. She was always a delight in class. Bright, but yes—endlessly talkative. You're a lucky young man."

Dhruv's lips curved into the barest smile. "I know."

For a heartbeat, his words lingered in the air—short, simple, but enough to make Vaani glance at him quickly, her chest tightening in surprise. He didn't look at her, though, only back at Ellis.

"So where did you study, Dhruv?" Ellis asked, shifting the papers in his arms.

"Columbia, New York," Dhruv replied. "And later, Masters at Berkeley."

Ellis's eyebrows lifted. "Impressive. That must've been quite the experience."

Dhruv nodded once. "It was... formative, yes."

They exchanged a few more words, the conversation polite but warm. Finally, Ellis glanced at his watch and sighed. "I'd better run, I've got a lecture starting in five minutes. But, Vaani—" he turned to her, his eyes kind—"I'm glad to see you doing well. Truly."

Her throat tightened, but she smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Professor. Really."

"And you two," he added, glancing at both of them, "enjoy your time here. You'll remember this city differently now."

With that, he strode off down the hall, his footsteps echoing.

Vaani exhaled slowly, still smiling faintly. Dhruv watched her, curious. "You still remember your professors?"

She looked after Ellis, her expression soft. "He wasn't just a professor. He was a good friend too. Always asked how I was doing, not just about my grades. That mattered."

Dhruv studied her quietly, thinking. She's so friendly with everyone, he realized. People seemed to remember her fondly, connect to her easily. And yet here, with him, she was restrained, careful, holding back.

As they began walking again, that thought stayed with him, quietly pressing at the edges of his mind.

The echo of Professor Ellis's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Vaani and Dhruv standing in the corridor with sunlight filtering in through the tall, arched windows.

For a moment, Vaani simply stood still, her eyes tracing the familiar walls, the noticeboards plastered with announcements, the faint scent of old paper and chalk dust lingering in the air. She looked... at home.

"Come on," she said softly, almost to herself, and began walking further down the hall.

Dhruv followed, his hands slipping into his pockets as he let his eyes sweep across the high ceilings and worn staircases.

He had always been proud of his own alma mater, but Oxford's history was different—older, heavier, soaked into the very stones.

Still, what held his attention more than the architecture was Vaani.

She walked with a strange mix of hesitance and belonging, her steps slow yet purposeful, her gaze drifting like someone trying to reabsorb a place that once shaped them.

As they turned a corner near the old library wing, a voice called out.

"Vaani?"

They both stopped. A woman in her sixties, with gray hair neatly tied back in a bun and round glasses perched on her nose, emerged from behind the desk of the library reception. Her cardigan was the same deep green shade Vaani remembered from her student years.

"Mrs. Linton!" Vaani exclaimed, her face lighting up as she hurried forward. "Oh my goodness, you're still here!"

Mrs. Linton broke into a warm smile. "And you! I thought I'd never see you again once you submitted your final dissertation."

Vaani laughed, her cheeks flushing. "I didn't think I'd be back this soon either. This place looks the same though."

"Yes, it rarely changes," Mrs. Linton replied fondly, then her eyes flickered to Dhruv. "And who is this?"

"My husband," Vaani said, almost shyly. "Dhruv."

Dhruv stepped closer, inclining his head politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine," Mrs. Linton said warmly.

Then she looked back at Vaani, shaking her head in amusement.

"Your husband! Goodness, time really does fly.

I remember you rushing in here at closing hours, pleading for me to let you borrow just one more book.

You must've been the noisiest, most persistent student we had. "

Vaani pressed her hands to her face, mortified. "Oh no, please don't remind me of that."

Mrs. Linton chuckled. "But you always returned them on time, and that's more than I can say for half the students here. You were a joy, Vaani."

Dhruv, silent until now, glanced sideways at his wife. Persistent. Noisy. Joy. The words lodged themselves in his mind, painting an image so unlike the quiet, reserved woman walking beside him these days.

After a few more minutes of warm conversation, Mrs. Linton excused herself, and they moved on. Vaani's smile lingered, tinged with nostalgia.

Further down the hall, they passed a small seminar room, its door half open. Inside, a handful of students were arranging papers. From behind them, another familiar voice rang out.

"Vaani Joshi?"

She turned, startled, and then her face broke into a wide grin. "Dr. Hughes!"

A tall man in his forties, carrying a stack of folders, strode toward her with open arms. He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, his enthusiasm genuine. "Well, if it isn't one of my brightest debate champions! What brings you back here?"

Vaani laughed nervously. "I... um... well, I'm here on my honeymoon actually."

"Your honeymoon? And you're back here of all places?" He raised an amused brow. "Only you, Joshi. Only you."

She grinned sheepishly. "What can I say? I missed Oxford."

Dr. Hughes glanced at Dhruv, curiosity sparking. "And this must be the lucky man?"

"Yes," she said softly. "This is Dhruv."

Dhruv extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Professor."

"Dr. Hughes," he corrected with a grin, shaking firmly. Then, turning to Dhruv, he added, "Your wife here once argued me into a corner in class so thoroughly that I had to admit defeat. And I was the lecturer!"

"Sir, please—don't embarrass me," Vaani muttered, her face glowing red.

Dhruv's lips curved, the smallest ghost of a chuckle escaping him. He looked at her—this version of her that people remembered so vividly, animated, fiery, unafraid to speak her mind. Why doesn't she argue like that now? he wondered.

After a quick exchange, Dr. Hughes excused himself, and they continued walking.

By the time they passed the old common room, at least two more people had recognized Vaani—a librarian assistant who recalled her marathon study nights, and a professor of history who remembered her thoughtful essays.

Each encounter brought more laughter, more warmth from Vaani, and more revelations for Dhruv.

He walked beside her silently, hands in his pockets, listening as the pieces of her old life unfolded in front of him. Everyone seemed to remember her vividly—not just for her academics but for her spirit, her presence, her ability to connect.

Yet here she was, quiet beside him, answering in clipped sentences, often withdrawing into silence. The contrast struck him sharply.

They finally stepped into the quad again, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the grass. Students lounged on benches, chatting in clusters, some sprawled with laptops open. The air buzzed with the vibrancy of youth.

Vaani inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a second. "I missed this," she murmured.

Dhruv looked at her, the faint curve of her smile, the way the light caught her hair, the sudden ease in her shoulders. "You belonged here," he said, more observation than compliment.

She glanced at him, startled, then gave a small, almost self-conscious smile. "Maybe. At least it felt like that once."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "And now?"

Her smile faltered. She looked away, watching a group of students laugh as they passed by. "Now... I don't know. Life changes."

She began walking again, not waiting for his reply. Dhruv followed, silent, his thoughts tangled. What changed you, Vaani? he wondered. What happened between this woman everyone remembers and the one who stays so guarded with me?

As they crossed the courtyard together, he realized something: he wasn't just seeing Oxford through her eyes.

He was seeing her world, the fragments of who she used to be—unfiltered, unburdened, remembered by others with affection and clarity.

And it made him question all over again why she wasn't that woman anymore.

~·~

The garden at Oxford was quiet, tucked away behind the main quad, a place Vaani had once come to often when the pressure of deadlines and debates felt too much.

The gravel crunched under her shoes as she and Dhruv stepped inside, the sound muffled by the canopy of trees arching overhead.

A stone bench sat at the center, framed by roses and tall hedges that swayed faintly with the wind.

Vaani let out a soft sigh as she sat down. "This was my favorite spot," she murmured. "Whenever it got too loud in the library, or too busy in my head... I used to sneak here."

Dhruv lowered himself onto the other end of the bench, leaving a small space between them. His eyes followed hers across the garden—the splashes of color, the neat symmetry, the faint hum of bees. "It's quiet," he said.

"Exactly," she replied, smiling faintly. "It was... a place to breathe."

He glanced at her then, her profile softened by nostalgia. She looks more alive here than I've ever seen her in Mumbai, he thought. But before he could say anything, a droplet hit his arm.

Vaani blinked, then looked up. A thin drizzle was beginning to fall, pattering against the leaves. "Oh no," she muttered, standing quickly.

"Come on," Dhruv said, already rising. They hurried toward the archway at the edge of the garden, where a stone overhang offered shelter. The rain picked up, falling in steady sheets now, turning the gravel paths dark and glossy.

Vaani shook her head, pushing damp strands of hair behind her ear. She gave a little laugh, breathless from the sudden run. "Oxford weather hasn't changed either."

Dhruv looked at her—her cheeks flushed, her eyes lit with something unguarded—and for a second, it felt like the space between them wasn't so wide. He let out a short chuckle himself, but then silence fell, thick and charged, as they stood side by side under the stone arch.

The sound of rain filled the air. Neither spoke. Vaani shifted slightly, tugging her trench coat tighter, her shoulder brushing his arm for just a second. It was accidental, but the contact sent a flicker of awareness through both of them.

Dhruv's jaw tightened. He wanted to say something—anything—but words didn't come. And she, sensing the same tension, kept her gaze fixed firmly on the rain outside, her pulse quickening.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "It'll pass in a bit. Rains here never last too long."

He nodded once. "Right."

The silence lingered, fragile and heavy, until the rain did exactly as she said—it lightened, thinning into a drizzle before stopping altogether.

"Shall we?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." He stepped back, giving her space as they began walking again, the cobblestones slick beneath their shoes.

They hadn't gone far when a younger man, maybe in his early twenties, approached from the opposite side of the path. He squinted for a moment, then his face broke into recognition.

"Vaani? Vaani Joshi?"

She stopped, blinking, and then gasped. "Oh my god—Ethan?"

The young man grinned wide, shouldering his satchel. "I can't believe it's really you! You were my buddy during fresher's week, remember? You basically stopped me from dropping out my first month here."

Vaani laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Of course I remember! You were so homesick you almost booked a train back to Leeds the second week."

"Exactly!" Ethan chuckled. "And you sat with me in the dining hall when I had no one to talk to. I don't think I ever properly thanked you for that. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," she said warmly. "You're in your final year now?"

"Yeah. Crazy, right?" Ethan's eyes sparkled. "And you? What are you doing back?"

Vaani hesitated, then said lightly, "I'm... here on my honeymoon — at Scotland. We just made a stop here." She gestured slightly toward Dhruv, who had been watching the exchange silently.

Ethan's gaze flicked to him, curious. "Oh wow! Congratulations. That's... that's amazing."

Dhruv inclined his head politely, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Well," Ethan said, glancing at his watch, "I should get going before my supervisor hunts me down. But seriously, Vaani—it's so good to see you again. You were one of the kindest people I met here. Thank you, really."

Vaani's expression softened. "I'm glad you stayed, Ethan. You deserve to be here."

With a grin and a wave, he hurried off, leaving the two of them standing there once again.

As they resumed their walk, Dhruv's voice broke the quiet. "Why didn't you apply to work here?"

Vaani looked at him, startled. "What?"

He kept his gaze ahead, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. "You know this place inside out. You clearly did well here. I'm sure you had the grades, the professors' support... You could've applied through one of those grad schemes. Maybe even stayed on as staff or something."

She slowed her steps, taken aback. "I..."

"You'd have fit right in," Dhruv continued, his words steady but probing. "People clearly remember you. You're smart, capable... why not?"

Her lips parted, then closed again. For a few beats, she seemed lost in thought, as though searching for the right answer. "I... I didn't find anything good here," she said finally, her voice low.

Dhruv turned his head slightly, studying her. She was looking down, her steps quicker now, as if eager to move away from the conversation.

"That's it?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, eyes fixed on the path. "Yes. That's it. Let's... let's go."

Dhruv said nothing more, but the doubt lingered in his expression. Her answer was too quick, too rehearsed, as though it wasn't the truth but the easiest shield to put up. He could feel it in his gut—there was more to it, something she wasn't telling him.

As they walked on in silence, past the ivy-draped walls and winding stone corridors, he found himself thinking again of what Aria had said. She carries too much for her family.

And now, watching her avoid his question, he was certain of it: Vaani hadn't left Oxford because she wanted to. She had left because something—or someone—had made her feel she had to.

~·~

The rain had cleared by evening, leaving Oxford washed and glistening under the soft orange of streetlamps.

The city looked like something out of an old painting—wet cobblestones reflecting light, students in coats hurrying past with books under their arms, the faint sound of bells chiming somewhere in the distance.

Vaani walked beside Dhruv, her trench coat buttoned and her hair falling loose around her shoulders now that it had dried. She had suggested a little pub near High Street, one she used to frequent with her friends, and he followed, his hands in his pockets, his thoughts elsewhere.

The place was warm and bustling, with wooden beams low enough to brush the top of Dhruv's head, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat, ale, and bread. A fire crackled in the corner hearth, and students crowded around tables, their laughter bubbling in the background.

Vaani smiled faintly as they stepped inside. "This used to be our Friday evening place. Cheap food, but good food."

Dhruv nodded, scanning the place. "It's cozy."

They found a corner table, half-hidden from the main crowd, and a server quickly brought menus. Dhruv let her order—she rattled off dishes with practiced familiarity, and he noticed the way her tone softened, like she was reliving something quietly.

When the food came— burger for her, pizza for him, and a shared plate of bread with fries—it filled the table with warmth. They ate in relative silence at first, the noise of the pub wrapping around them like a blanket.

But Dhruv's mind wasn't quiet.

He kept thinking of her earlier answer, the way she'd looked down, rushed her words.

I didn't find anything good here.

It didn't add up. Not when professors, librarians, even students lit up on seeing her.

Not when Ethan had all but called her his lifeline.

Not when she herself had looked at the university like it was a home she'd lost.

He stabbed his fork into his food absentmindedly, chewing slower than usual.

"You don't like it?" Vaani's voice broke into his thoughts.

He blinked, looking up. "What?"

"The pizza," she said, tilting her head, watching him. "You're hardly eating."

Dhruv set his hand down, realizing she was right. "It's good," he said, and then added after a pause, "Just... thinking."

She raised an eyebrow, a small sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. "You, Dhruv Deshmukh, thinking? That's a surprise. Totally never seen you do that!"

For the first time that evening, he chuckled softly. "Funny."

She looked at him for another moment, then shook her head lightly and returned to her plate, though he caught the faintest curve of amusement lingering on her face.

That subtle moment—her teasing, his soft laugh—felt strangely comfortable, like the first crack in the wall between them. It wasn't much, but it was something.

As the evening wore on, the pub grew louder.

Students broke into drunken songs at one end of the room; the fire crackled louder; mugs clinked.

Dhruv found himself watching Vaani more than anything else.

The way she pushed her hair back absently, the way her eyes darted around the room as though soaking in memories, the way her smile appeared and disappeared in flickers.

At one point, she caught him looking. Her eyes widened slightly, then she looked down quickly, pretending to butter a slice of bread she wasn't going to eat.

He shifted his gaze, clearing his throat, pretending too.

When they finally paid and stepped outside, the air was crisp, the streets quieter now. Their breaths fogged faintly in the cool night.

"That place was nice," Dhruv said after a moment, his tone softer than before.

Vaani smiled, her arms tucked into her coat. "Yeah. It felt... good to be back there."

They walked side by side, their steps echoing faintly. For once, the silence between them didn't feel heavy. It felt... settled, almost companionable.

At the hotel, Vaani slipped off her coat and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off her boots with a little sigh of relief. "My feet are killing me."

Dhruv, loosening his watch, glanced over. Without thinking, he said, "You walked the whole city like it was nothing this afternoon. You must've done this a lot here."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "I guess I did. Back then, I didn't notice how much I walked. Now, I feel old."

He smirked faintly. "You're not old."

Her laughter softened, and she glanced at him—just for a second—before turning away and busying herself with folding her coat.

They both changed into comfortable clothes—Vaani in a simple nightdress with a cardigan, Dhruv in a t-shirt and track pants. When she slid into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin, he switched off the main light and took his side.

The room went dark except for the faint glow of the city through the balcony curtains.

Vaani shifted onto her side, facing away from him. Within minutes, her breathing evened, soft and steady.

But Dhruv stayed awake, staring at the ceiling.

Her voice echoed in his mind. I didn't find anything good here.

Lies. He could hear it in the way she said it.

Aria's words returned too. She carries too much for her family.

He glanced at the curve of her back, her shoulders rising and falling gently as she slept. She looked peaceful now, but he couldn't shake the image of her dodging his question, shutting down.

What had happened? What had pulled her away from a place where she so clearly belonged? Did her parents even know what she'd left behind? Or had they asked it of her?

His hand tightened slightly on the blanket.

She should've been here. She should've had this life.

For the first time, Dhruv felt something stir beyond curiosity—something quieter, heavier. A kind of ache for her, for the version of her that still lingered in these streets and classrooms and memories.

Eventually, his eyes closed, though the questions followed him into sleep.

??