42
The apartment was quiet except for the faint rustle of luggage being zipped and unzipped. The soft hum of the air conditioner created a calm backdrop, punctuated only by Dhruv's muttered reminders as he checked his bags one last time.
"Wallet... passport... charger...," he muttered under his breath, each item being ticked off in his mind, the tone precise, habitual.
Vaani, seated on the sofa, watched him silently, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
She had been busy with small things—tidying the coffee table, folding a stray throw—but now her gaze kept drifting toward him.
She had a soft, quiet sadness lingering inside her chest, one she wasn't quite ready to show.
The thought that he would be gone for a week made the apartment feel emptier already, even though they had just spent a few hours together earlier.
"Wallet... passport...," Dhruv muttered again, a bit more insistently this time.
Vaani's ears perked up, and without thinking twice, she rose from the sofa. She moved quickly toward him, almost like she had anticipated exactly what he needed.
In a fluid motion, she reached the table where he had tossed his essentials and picked up the wallet and passport, holding them gently in her hands.
Dhruv turned just in time to see her standing there, the items held out toward him, her expression soft but controlled. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice calm, but there was a subtle warmth in his tone that made her chest flutter slightly.
Vaani smiled softly, holding the items steadily as he took them from her. There was a quiet pause, a small moment where their eyes met, lingering just long enough for unspoken words to hover between them.
He picked up the passport, sliding it carefully into the inner pocket of his bag. He zipped the bag shut with a precise motion, then grabbed the handle, readying himself to leave.
"Namaskar karun zaa (pray before you go)," Vaani said softly, her voice gentle, carrying a mixture of respect and the faintest hint of something more tender underneath.
Dhruv exhaled softly, a quiet breath that seemed to carry both acknowledgment and the unspoken weight of the moment.
Without another word, he moved toward the Devghar in the corner of the room, pausing briefly to bow his head in reverence before the small altar.
His hands folded neatly, eyes closed for a brief second, and then he opened them, exhaling lightly.
He returned to Vaani, who had been watching him closely, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. "Happy?" he asked quietly, his tone calm, almost teasing in its subtlety.
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yes... happy."
Dhruv nodded slightly, then adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a week. Take care of yourself," he said quietly, almost matter-of-factly, though there was an undercurrent of care in the way he spoke. "If you need anything while I'm gone, you can let me know."
Vaani gave a small nod, her fingers tightening slightly around the hem of her kurta as she processed his words. The thought of the coming days without him made her chest feel just a little heavier, though she kept her expression calm.
"Alright then... see you," he said, his tone measured, final yet not abrupt.
She hesitated for a brief moment, then spoke, her voice soft and careful. "Can I... come to drop you to the airport?"
Dhruv paused, tilting his head slightly, a hint of amusement flickering across his dark eyes. "Vaani... I'm using the company car," he said, his tone calm but with a slight edge of teasing that made her pulse quicken.
She blinked, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "Oh," she murmured, almost embarrassed. She glanced down, then back at him, trying to hide the flutter in her chest.
After a brief pause, she spoke again, a little more hesitantly this time. "Can... can I come down till the car?"
Dhruv's lips curved into a very slight, controlled smile. He moved to the door, opening it for her, his hand holding it wide. "After you," he said simply, his tone calm, yet there was an understated warmth in the words that made her heart beat just a little faster.
Vaani stepped forward quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips as she moved past him.
She grabbed her phone from her pocket, holding it lightly as she followed him down the small hallway of the building.
The subtle quiet of the apartment lingered behind them, leaving a faint echo of the life they shared within those walls.
Dhruv locked the door behind them with practiced ease, the sound of the lock clicking into place filling the brief silence. He glanced at her, his expression calm, almost neutral, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed a hint of warmth.
They entered the lift together, the small space quiet except for the faint hum of the elevator machinery. Vaani held her phone loosely at her side, stealing glances at him while keeping her posture straight, trying not to reveal the small flutter of nervousness in her chest.
Dhruv stood beside her, shoulders relaxed but upright, a calm presence that made her heart settle slightly even amidst the anticipation of him leaving. The lift descended steadily, carrying them quietly toward the ground floor and the company car waiting just outside.
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was comfortable yet charged, the kind of quiet that carried small, unspoken emotions between them.
Vaani's eyes flicked toward him, noting the faint shadow of thought in his gaze, and she realized she hadn't truly noticed the small, almost imperceptible ways he carried himself when he was about to leave.
As the lift doors opened, Dhruv moved slightly ahead, stepping out first and letting her follow. The cool evening air brushed gently against their faces as they walked toward the car parked just a few meters away.
The company car stood waiting at the curb, polished and sleek under the gentle glow of the streetlights.
Dhruv stood beside it, his bag slung over one shoulder, the other hand adjusting the strap.
Vaani followed quietly, her heels clicking softly against the pavement, her heart thudding with a strange mixture of anticipation and reluctance.
He turned slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Stay safe," he said simply, his tone calm, precise, yet carrying that subtle undercurrent of care she had come to recognize.
Vaani nodded quickly, her fingers fiddling slightly with the hem of her kurta.
She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Let me... let me know when you reach," she murmured softly, almost afraid to say the words out loud, as though the act of speaking them might make the impending departure even more real.
Dhruv's lips twitched faintly in acknowledgment. "Yea," he said quietly, the single word carrying both affirmation and reassurance.
The driver, standing patiently beside the car, lifted Dhruv's luggage with practiced ease and placed it in the boot, the soft thud of the bag closing echoing slightly in the quiet evening. Dhruv stepped back slightly, giving her a measured glance before speaking again.
"Alright then... see you," he said calmly, his tone even, controlled, but not without warmth.
Vaani gave a soft nod, her gaze lingering on him for just a second longer than usual. Her mind raced, each passing second threatening to swell into a wave of overthinking. But before her thoughts could spiral, she took a deep breath and stepped closer.
"Dhruv..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper, hesitant but firm enough to carry through the space between them.
He turned toward her fully, tilting his head slightly, dark eyes fixed on hers. "Hmm?" he replied, calm and measured, as always, yet somehow attuned to the subtle urgency in her voice.
Without giving herself a second to reconsider, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her head rested against his chest for just a brief moment, the faintest rush of warmth spreading through her as she felt the solid, steady presence of him beneath her.
Dhruv stiffened for a heartbeat, then slowly relaxed, a small, almost imperceptible smile forming at the corner of his lips.
He brought one arm around her shoulder, his hand resting lightly on her upper back, steadying her almost instinctively.
It was not an extravagant embrace, but the quiet solidity of it, the calm steadiness, made her heart ease slightly even as the sadness lingered.
The world seemed to pause for a brief moment—the faint hum of the city, the muted glow of the streetlights, the distant sound of passing cars—all fading into the background.
There was only the quiet rhythm of their shared breath, the gentle weight of presence, and the unspoken acknowledgment of what this small moment meant.
After a few seconds that felt both fleeting and infinite, Vaani pulled back slightly, her hands slipping from his shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes soft but resolute, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Dhruv met her gaze evenly, his arm still resting lightly on her shoulder, his dark eyes calm yet carrying that subtle, unspoken warmth. "See you soon, Vaani," he said, his voice steady, controlled, but somehow tender in its quietness.
Vaani nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips, though her heart still throbbed with a dull ache. She watched him as he moved toward the car, each step measured, precise, the quiet confidence he carried drawing her attention even as she struggled to compose herself.
He slid into the passenger's seat as the driver continued adjusting the mirrors. She lingered for a moment, standing at the curb, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. Her chest ached with the subtle weight of his absence already, though she forced herself to take a steadying breath.
Dhruv glanced once more toward her. Their eyes met for a brief instant, a silent acknowledgment passing between them—a quiet understanding that even though the week ahead would separate them physically, the connection they shared would not diminish.
Then, with a gentle press of the accelerator, the car began to move forward. Vaani stepped back instinctively, watching it glide down the quiet street. Her hands fell to her sides, loosely clasped, as she felt the faint weight of emptiness settle in the space Dhruv had left behind.
For a moment, she allowed herself to linger there, letting the small ache of missing him wash over her, the soft tug of emotion that came from seeing someone so integral to her daily life slip just out of reach.
She closed her eyes briefly, drawing a deep, steadying breath, reminding herself that he would return—and that the week would pass faster than it felt in the present moment.
As the car disappeared from view, the quiet hum of the city slowly returned, the distant lights of passing cars flickering like gentle stars. Vaani turned back toward the apartment building, her footsteps light but steady as she walked back inside.
The apartment was silent now, each room bathed in the warm glow of the evening lights, untouched and still in the calm after the day's activities.
She stepped into the living room, her shoes clicking softly against the polished floor.
She set her phone down on the table, letting her fingers linger on the surface for a moment as if trying to anchor herself in the quiet reality of the empty space.
She moved toward the sofa and sank into it, folding her hands in her lap.
The house felt quieter than usual, the absence of Dhruv's presence leaving a subtle emptiness she had not anticipated.
She took a slow, steadying breath, letting the warmth of the room and the lingering scents of their shared meals and conversations soothe her slightly.
Her eyes drifted toward the spot where he had stood moments ago, the faint memory of his calm, controlled presence lingering vividly in her mind.
She thought of the way he had looked at her, the small but deliberate gestures—the nod, the soft smile, the way he had wrapped one arm around her shoulder.
Even in such a brief, simple embrace, he had conveyed reassurance, care, and calm, leaving a faint warmth behind that lingered like a soft glow.
Vaani leaned back against the sofa cushions, closing her eyes for a brief moment, letting the quiet of the apartment envelop her.
She allowed herself a tiny, fleeting smile, despite the lingering sadness.
He would be back in a week. Until then, she would keep herself busy, keep her thoughts occupied, and remember that small moments of presence—gestures, glances, quiet touches—were enough to carry them through the brief absence.
The apartment was silent, bathed in the gentle glow of the lamps and the fading warmth of the evening.
Vaani finally opened her eyes, straightened her posture, and allowed herself to exhale fully, feeling a sense of resolve settle over her.
She would keep the house in order, occupy herself with small projects, and wait.
And when Dhruv returned, the comfort of his presence, the quiet steadiness, and the subtle warmth of his care would once again fill the spaces of their shared life.
For now, the quiet apartment became a space for reflection, a space for her to feel the subtle ache of absence while also cherishing the warmth of presence—even if that presence had just departed.
The faint glow of the lights, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan, and the memory of Dhruv's quiet gestures created a calm cocoon, reminding her that even in his absence, the bond they shared was steady, unspoken, and enduring.
Vaani finally rose, moving to the window to glance at the street below, where the company car had disappeared into the evening traffic.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, mingling with the faint evening breeze that drifted through the slightly open window.
She turned back toward the living room, her steps steady, her mind quieting with each moment.
The silent apartment was hers for now, a quiet space to reflect, compose herself, and anticipate the small but meaningful reunion that awaited at the end of the week.
And with that, she moved back toward the sofa, letting the soft cushions embrace her as she settled in, the faint glow of the lamps casting a gentle warmth over the room as the sound of the TV filled the silent house.
~·~
The airport buzzed with its usual late-night rhythm—announcements spilling from speakers, passengers rushing with hurried footsteps, the rolling wheels of trolleys creating a constant undertone.
Dhruv walked with the steady calm of a man who had traveled countless times before.
He had already finished security, passport check, and the last formalities.
His boarding pass sat tucked neatly in his jacket pocket, his bag slung casually over his shoulder.
He checked the time on the overhead clock—10:15 p.m. A small sigh escaped him. There was still some time before boarding.
Without really thinking, he pulled his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen for just a moment before unlocking it. His contacts list popped up, his gaze automatically landing on the name Vaani Deshmukh. He stared at it for a second longer than he intended, then tapped.
The chat opened. His fingers moved almost on instinct.
I've finished security. Waiting for flight now.
He hit send, then slid the phone back into his palm, not expecting an immediate response. But barely a second later, the screen lit up.
Okay great.
He blinked at how quickly it came, a small flicker of surprise crossing his face. His lips curved ever so slightly, though he didn't let the smile grow. His thumbs tapped again.
Vaani sleep early. No need to stay up late.
He hesitated for just a fraction of a second after typing "Vaani," noticing the way her name looked against the white chat background.
It was strange—he had said her name many times before, sometimes sharply, sometimes calmly—but writing it out felt different, somehow personal.
He pushed the thought away and pressed send.
Her reply came almost instantly again. Yea I'll sleep.
He could almost imagine her lying in bed, phone in hand, typing quickly before she second-guessed herself. His expression softened imperceptibly, his thumb brushing over the screen once more.
Good.
Simple, practical, efficient—very Dhruv. He slipped the phone into his pocket, signaling the end of the conversation in his usual understated manner.
A voice rang out across the hall: "Flight to Cairo now boarding."
He stood, adjusting his bag, and joined the queue, his phone heavy in his pocket though he didn't take it out again. The line moved quickly, and soon enough, he was stepping through the jet bridge, the hum of the aircraft growing louder as he approached.
Meanwhile, in the quiet apartment, Vaani lay in bed, her hair spread over the pillow, the faint glow of her phone screen illuminating her features. She read his last message again, the single word—Good—bringing with it a strange warmth.
She sighed softly, placing her phone beside her on the nightstand, and turned off the lamp. The room plunged into a gentle darkness, the only sound the faint whir of the ceiling fan above her.
But even as she closed her eyes, she couldn't quite fall asleep.
Her mind played back the small exchange, every word they had traded so simply yet meaningfully.
He hadn't said much—he never did—but just the act of him messaging her after security, letting her know where he was, carried more care than the words themselves revealed.
Her hand drifted back to the phone. She unlocked it again, opened the link she had found just hours ago—the flight tracker. Her heart thudded quietly as she typed in his flight number and watched the little animated plane pop up on the map. Scheduled departure: 11:00 p.m. Status: Boarding.
She stared at the screen for a long while, her lips curling into the faintest smile.
It was silly, she knew. He would never expect her to go so far as to track his flight, nor would he probably even approve.
Dhruv was practical, efficient, focused.
He believed in getting the job done, not fussing over details.
But for her, this felt necessary—not because she doubted his ability to travel, but because this was the only way she could keep a part of him close in his absence.
Her gaze softened as she whispered into the quiet as she typed on his chat, "Safe travels, Dhruv."
The apartment was silent, the kind of silence that usually made her restless, but tonight it felt different. Heavy. Because he wasn't in the next room or sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone. The empty spaces he left behind seemed sharper somehow.
She hugged the blanket a little closer around herself, her eyes still on the tiny blinking dot of his plane. The thought crossed her mind—will he check in when he lands, like he promised? What if he forgets? What if he's too tired?
But then she remembered the look in his eyes as he had told her, I'll be back in a week. Take care.
Her eyelids grew heavier as the minutes passed.
She placed her phone beside her again, the tracker still open, the little plane waiting to take off.
She shut her eyes, taking slow breaths, her mind easing with the simple knowledge that she would wake up tomorrow and check the tracker again, and that would be enough until he sent her a message.
For the first time since their marriage, she felt the subtle ache of absence so strongly. But it was cushioned by a quiet reassurance—that even in silence, even with oceans soon to separate them, there was a thread of connection holding them close.
And so, with a soft sigh, Vaani drifted toward sleep.
~·~
The cabin lights dimmed to a low amber glow, the soft hum of the engines steady beneath the occasional shuffle of passengers settling into their seats.
Dhruv sat by the window, his laptop bag tucked neatly under the seat in front of him.
The plane had been in the air for over an hour now, cruising steadily above the black expanse of the night sky.
He leaned back against his seat, fastening the belt loosely across his lap.
He wasn't one to waste time on flights—normally he'd dive straight into work documents or notes for upcoming meetings.
But tonight, he found himself staring at the seat-back in front of him, his thoughts wandering to the message she'd sent earlier, the faint memory of her hug at the car flashing across his mind.
With a faint sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The flight's Wi-Fi had just connected, and notifications trickled in one by one—business emails, group messages from colleagues, bank updates. He ignored all of them. His thumb moved instinctively to WhatsApp.
The last message at the bottom of their chat caught his eye: Safe travels, Dhruv.
It was time-stamped 11:15 p.m., just after his flight had taken off. He stared at it for a moment, his lips twitching into a small, restrained smile. It wasn't long, it wasn't flowery, but there was something about seeing his name in her words—something that made his chest feel unexpectedly warm.
He typed quickly: Thank you.
The message ticked blue almost immediately. He raised an eyebrow. She was awake? At 12:30?
And then her reply came within five minutes. Did you reach?
He exhaled quietly through his nose, shaking his head slightly at the question. Did I reach? She knew he was on a long-haul flight. Still, the corners of his mouth curved faintly as he typed back.
Why are you awake?
He hesitated a beat, then added: There's still 2 hours more.
The typing dots appeared almost instantly, pausing, then appearing again. Finally, her message blinked onto the screen. I was about to sleep. I just... thought to ask.
He leaned back, his gaze fixed on the glow of his screen in the otherwise dim cabin. She could've left it alone. She could've assumed he'd text when he landed. But no—she stayed awake, waiting for a moment of confirmation.
Hmm, he replied. The sound of his own habit translated into text. Short, deliberate.
For a moment he considered letting it end there, but then he caught himself thinking about the way she had looked earlier that evening—standing by the car, hugging him with such sudden conviction. And then the way she had said let me know when you reach.
He tapped again. I'll message you when I land. You go sleep. Now.
He imagined her expression reading that—eyes widening, lips pressing together, probably debating if she should argue. But the three dots appeared again almost instantly.
Okay.
That was it. Simple, obedient, but he knew she must've typed it with a quiet sigh, finally agreeing.
He put his phone down on the tray table, his gaze flickering back to the dark oval of the window. Outside, nothing but pitch-black sky stretched endlessly. Inside, passengers shifted, some already asleep with neck pillows snug around them. Dhruv closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly.
Her face flashed again behind his eyelids—her hesitant smile, the softness in her voice, the way she had fussed over him leaving as though it mattered more to her than to him. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, leaning deeper into his seat.
What surprised him wasn't her staying awake. What surprised him was how much it mattered to him that she had.
Meanwhile, back in their apartment, Vaani lay curled on her side, her phone still in her hand even after sending the last "okay." She stared at the screen for a few seconds longer, as if expecting him to send another message, though she knew he wouldn't.
She placed the phone on the nightstand, fingers brushing the glass one last time before she pulled the blanket closer. The silence of the room pressed in heavier than usual, but her chest felt strangely lighter. He had told her himself: I'll message you when I land.
Her lips curved into a soft smile in the darkness. He could've ignored her question. He could've said nothing until morning. But instead, he had taken the time—even mid-flight—to respond, to reassure. That was enough.
She closed her eyes, her breathing steadying, the faint echo of his words—You go sleep. Now.—ringing in her mind. For some reason, it made her feel safe.
The ceiling fan whirred overhead. The hum of the city outside softened into the night. And Vaani, still warmed by the memory of their brief exchange, finally drifted into sleep.
Dhruv, on the other hand, stayed awake longer. His phone lay on the tray table, screen dark, but his mind kept circling back. The fact that she had sent Safe travels unprompted. The fact that she had waited. The fact that she had asked.
He leaned his head back against the seat, a soft groan escaping under his breath.
He should've been thinking about Egypt, about the meetings ahead, about the deal he had to close.
Instead, all he could think about was the girl sleeping miles below, probably clutching her blanket, probably worrying if he'd eaten, if he'd slept.
He shook his head once, lightly amused with himself. For a man who prided himself on control, on clarity, this was unfamiliar territory.
But then, as the hum of the engines grew louder and the cabin lights dimmed further, he allowed his eyes to close. One last thought settled in his mind before sleep claimed him:
She better have slept like I told her to.
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Guys — I'm updating like 4/5 chapters constantly writing and all I'm getting is a handful of votes and nothing else.
Remember, we don't get paid for all this so what takes you all 5 mins to read sometimes takes us 50 minutes to write and edit — with that being said, at least a few basic comments would be appreciated.
I get only 1/2 people who regularly comment and to them — thank you so much.
You all are the reason I'm still going with this novel — but the rest of the silent readers, imagine yourself in this shoes where you do so much work only for it to get ignored and just think — why would you still write?
I had already unpublished this novel once before because no comments for over 15 chapters — imagine — so please just be considerate and add something — interact in some way.
Otherwise, please don't comment later if this book gets unpublished as to "why I unpublished it" because you all will already have the answer.
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Please be kind and interact.
Please respect authors' work.
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