63
The next morning came wrapped in quiet.
Vaani stirred awake slowly, her lashes fluttering as pale daylight filtered through the curtains.
For a moment, she stayed still, listening to the hum of the ceiling fan, the faint sounds of traffic far away.
Her chest felt heavy, her mind still thick with the words she had overheard yesterday.
They clung to her like damp clothes—cold, uncomfortable, inescapable.
She pushed herself upright with effort, rubbed her face with both hands, and slipped out of bed.
Dhruv was still asleep, turned slightly onto his side, one arm bent under the pillow.
His breathing was even, calm. She paused briefly to look at him—he seemed so peaceful like this, unbothered, untouched by the storm swirling in her chest.
A sigh slipped past her lips. She tiptoed toward the bathroom.
The shower was quick, the warm water running down her shoulders, but it didn't wash away the ache in her chest. She scrubbed, rinsed, tied her hair back, and stepped out, wrapping herself in the comfort of her kurta and palazzo. Loose, soft, familiar.
She went to the kitchen.
The act of making chai was grounding—boiling water, spooning in tea leaves, the scent of ginger and cardamom filling the air. She moved quietly, humming nothing this time. No tune came to her lips. Her mind was still too cluttered.
She poured the steaming liquid into her cup and carried it to the living room. The television flickered on, playing some light morning show she wasn't really paying attention to. She curled into the corner of the couch, cup warm between her palms, and scrolled through her phone.
Her friends' group chat was buzzing—Simran had already sent three voice notes about what to pack, Naina had dropped links to swimsuits and maxi dresses, and someone else had posted a meme about airport struggles.
Vaani's lips tugged into the first real smile since yesterday.
Their excitement was contagious, and she felt a little spark of happiness flicker in her chest.
She typed quickly: "I'll bring my pink jumpsuit also, okay? You all don't bully me for it again ????."
Immediately, the replies flew in.
"Hahaha that one is iconic, you have to!"
"YESSSS pink jumpsuit makes a comeback."
"Simran will cry if you don't pack it."
Vaani chuckled softly, shaking her head as the thread exploded in emojis. It felt good, that lightness, even if just for a moment. She sipped her chai, her smile small but real, eyes glued to the flurry of messages.
The sound of the bedroom door opening reached her ears, followed by the shuffle of Dhruv's footsteps. She straightened a little but didn't turn immediately.
"Good morning," he said, his voice steady as always.
"Good morning," she replied, quick, soft, before her eyes slid back to the screen.
Dhruv's brows furrowed faintly. Usually, she would've turned with a grin, teased him for waking late, or asked about his gym routine. But today, her tone was... plain.
He moved toward the kitchen, grabbed his cup of chai, and returned.
Sitting down beside her, he lifted the cup and took a sip.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the low chatter of the television.
He cast a glance at her—she was watching the screen but barely reacting to it, her phone lighting up with constant messages that made her smile once in a while.
"New jokes from your gang?" he asked lightly.
"Hm," she hummed, neither looking up nor expanding.
That single syllable landed oddly. Dhruv blinked, surprised. Normally, she would've launched into the whole story, recited the memes, maybe even forced him to listen to one of Simran's dramatic voice notes. But this time, nothing.
He sipped again, his eyes flicking to her profile. Something was off.
Minutes passed like that—quiet, almost too quiet. She seemed absorbed, yet distant. Her shoulders were straight, her movements careful, as though she was deliberately keeping herself contained.
Finally, she placed her empty cup on the table and stood.
"Where are you going?" Dhruv asked, watching her.
"I need to pack," she said simply, adjusting the dupatta at her shoulder.
"Right," he murmured.
And just like that, she walked toward the bedroom, her steps even, her face unreadable.
Inside the bedroom, Vaani closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it for a second.
Her chest tightened again. She wanted to go back out there, flop on the couch, chatter about how ridiculous Simran's packing tips were.
She wanted to ask Dhruv if he thought this top worked for Georgia, or if she should buy sunscreen on the way. That was the natural version of her.
But Geeta's words rang in her ears: Nonstop talking machine. He must be fed up.
Her throat closed. She shook her head, pulling her suitcase out from under the bed. She flipped it open, the empty shell staring back at her.
One by one, she began folding clothes—her favorite summer dresses, shorts, a scarf, her sandals. Her hands moved mechanically, but her mind was restless. Every dress she laid down felt like she was folding away a piece of herself.
The group chat buzzed again. Someone asked if she'd packed enough beachwear. Another teased about who would carry the sunscreen.
Vaani typed back emojis and a quick "Done, don't worry" — but her fingers hesitated before she added anything more. She stared at the blinking cursor, then deleted what she had started to type: "I'll show Dhruv later what I packed."
No. She couldn't. Not anymore. He didn't need to know every small thing. Silence, she told herself firmly. Give him silence.
Out in the living room, Dhruv sat with his chai, his brows furrowed faintly. The TV droned on, but his thoughts weren't in it. He couldn't shake the strangeness of her tone, the brevity of her words. Vaani had never been one for monosyllables.
He leaned back into the couch, staring at the half-empty cup in his hands. Maybe she was tired. Maybe the trip planning had worn her out. Or... was she upset with him? Had he missed something?
He thought of last night's drive—how she had been unusually quiet then too. Fifteen minutes of silence before he had teased her. He remembered her response: "Silence is good too. Right?"
At the time, he'd brushed it off. But now... he wasn't so sure.
Back in the bedroom, Vaani zipped the small pouch where she kept her skincare.
She paused, staring at the rows of bottles.
Normally, she would've carried her packing out into the living room, spread everything on the bed, asked Dhruv if this shade of lipstick was too much for beach dinners.
She would've asked him if he thought she was overpacking.
Instead, she stayed quiet, folding, tucking, organizing with precision.
Her phone buzzed again—another joke, another set of laughing emojis. She smiled faintly, then placed the phone face-down on the bed.
Her hands lingered on the pink jumpsuit. She smoothed it carefully, laid it on top. Her friends would love it. They always did. But a thought crossed her mind, sharp and painful: Would Dhruv find it loud? Too bright? Another sign of how much she talked and showed off?
She pressed her lips together and shoved the thought away. This trip was supposed to be her space. Her bubble of laughter. Still, the doubt clung to her, heavy and unwanted.
She zipped one section of the suitcase and sat back, her hands clasped in her lap. For a moment, she closed her eyes. The echo of Geeta's voice wouldn't stop.
Poor Dhruv. How can he like her? He must be missing his peace.
Her chest constricted.
She swallowed hard, straightened, and got back to folding. If silence was peace, then silence was what she would give.
The room was scattered with clothes, neatly folded piles on the bed, some still draped over the chair, her half-open suitcase lying on the floor.
Vaani sat cross-legged near it, carefully rolling a kurta and sliding it into place, lips pressed together in concentration.
The buzz of her friends' group chat kept lighting up her phone, but she wasn't answering right now.
Packing demanded her full attention—or so she told herself.
The bedroom door creaked open softly.
Dhruv leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed, watching her. He didn't say anything for a moment, letting his gaze linger on the way she methodically placed each item, smoothing it down like she was ironing the air.
"Done?" he asked finally, voice calm, almost casual.
Vaani startled slightly, lifting her eyes to him. For a beat, she simply looked at him, her mind strangely blank. Then she shook her head. "Not yet. Just a few more dresses."
Her tone was normal, but shorter than usual. No banter, no extra comment about whether she was overpacking, no half-joke about taking her entire wardrobe with her. Dhruv noticed it, but he let it slide—for now.
He tilted his head. "Hmm. Are you okay?"
Her hands froze mid-fold. She looked up at him, caught in his gaze, and her thoughts scrambled.
What should she say? That her head was still buzzing with Geeta's words?
That she was trying so hard to stay quiet around him, to not annoy, to not overwhelm?
No, she couldn't. She forced a small smile instead.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just worried about packing. I think I slacked off too much," she said quickly, her eyes dropping back to the clothes.
Dhruv studied her for a long moment, then nodded, seemingly convinced. "It's fine. I can help."
Her head snapped up. "No, no—it's okay. I'll do it," she said, perhaps a little too quickly.
He raised a brow, but didn't argue. Instead, he pushed off from the wardrobe and strolled closer, moving with that unbothered air he carried everywhere.
Without saying much, he reached into the wardrobe, pulled something out, and with an almost careless flick, tossed it into her half-packed suitcase.
The fabric landed with a soft thump.
Vaani blinked, glanced down—and froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. The pastel pink dress. That pastel pink dress.
She looked at him, eyes wide. "What's this?"
He smirked faintly, like it was obvious. "Well, you didn't find a dress like it. So... just take the original one."
Her chest tightened. She clutched the dress like it was fragile glass. "Dhruv, this dress... it costed three hundred and thirty dirhams. It was branded."
He looked at her blankly, as if she had just recited a riddle in another language. "So?"
"So?" Her voice rose a little, incredulous. "Dhruv, why... why would you spend that much?"
She wasn't angry, but her panic was evident in the tremor of her words. Her brows knitted together, her breath uneven. To her, this wasn't just a dress anymore—it was extravagance, it was him wasting money on her, it was guilt pressing down like a weight.
Dhruv's frown deepened. "Vaani, it's just a dress."
"Exactly, Dhruv!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking slightly. "It's just a dress! Why would you break the bank for it?"
He ran a hand down his face, confusion clear. "Break the bank? Vaani, it's just three hundred bucks."
"Three hundred bucks is a lot," she shot back, hugging the dress close to her chest as if returning it depended on her not letting it go. "I can't—Dhruv, I can't accept this. Please, return it."
He stared at her, bewildered. To him, this was nothing—just a small gesture. But the way she was panicking, the way her eyes glistened with that mix of worry and stubbornness, told him she wouldn't see it that way.
"Vaani..." he began, softer now.
"Please, Dhruv," she whispered, shaking her head, her grip tightening. "Please just return it."
He saw it then—how this wasn't just about the price tag. This was about her principles, her discomfort, her deep, unshakable sense of responsibility. She wasn't going to budge.
He exhaled slowly, resigned. "Okay, fine. Leave it on the bed."
Her shoulders sagged in relief. She placed the dress gently aside and looked at him with a faint, grateful smile. "Thank you."
He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable, and turned, walking out of the room.
Out in the living room, Dhruv dropped onto the couch, his mind restless.
Why had she reacted like that? Why did three hundred dirhams feel like a mountain to her?
For him, it wasn't about the money—it was about the way her face had lit up when she first showed him that dress online, the way she had sulked when she couldn't find it. Buying it had felt natural. Easy.
But seeing her so panicked, so determined... it made him pause.
He rubbed his temples. "Why on earth did she react like that..." he muttered under his breath.
Inside the bedroom, Vaani bent over her suitcase again, folding with extra care now.
She tucked in the last pair of sandals, zipped one compartment, and smoothed the surface of her dupatta lying on top.
Her breathing was steadier, but her heart still pounded.
She hated the idea of him spending unnecessarily on her, hated that her presence could cost him.
Her phone rang suddenly. Simran's name flashed on the screen.
She grabbed it quickly and slipped out into the balcony, closing the door behind her. "Hello?" Her voice instantly lightened.
"Vaaniii!" Simran's cheerful scream nearly made her laugh. "I was just checking if you packed sunscreen because if you forget, we're all going to suffer."
Vaani chuckled softly. "Yes, I packed it. Don't worry. Everything's almost done."
She leaned against the railing, letting Simran's chatter wash over her. For a few minutes, she felt free again, laughing quietly at her friend's dramatic warnings about overpacking.
Meanwhile, Dhruv, still seated in the living room, noticed the faint sound of her laughter drifting from the balcony. His eyes flicked toward the bedroom. He set his phone aside, pushed himself up, and walked quickly, his decision already made.
Inside the bedroom, the suitcase sat open, the pink dress lying untouched on the bed. He stepped closer, picked it up, and without hesitation tucked it between the neatly folded layers of clothing. Hidden, but there.
He zipped the suitcase half-closed again and stood back, his expression calm, almost smug. If she planned photos with this dress, then she would get the photos. Simple. She wouldn't even realize until later, when she needed it.
He slipped out quietly, moving back to the living room before she could return.
When Vaani walked in minutes later, still smiling faintly from Simran's call, she didn't notice a thing. She bent over the suitcase again, adjusted a scarf, and zipped it fully shut.
Dhruv sat on the couch, the television playing softly. He looked up briefly when she entered, his face neutral, almost bored. But inside, he carried a secret satisfaction.
She thought the dress was gone.
But he had made sure it wasn't.
~·~
The aroma of cumin and garlic filled the kitchen as Dhruv stirred the simmering dal.
He moved with surprising ease around the counter, chopping coriander with quick, precise strokes, sliding it into the pot before turning off the flame.
He plated up some rice and sabzi with the same efficiency.
Cooking wasn't something he did every day, but when he did, there was no fuss, no wasted motion.
He wiped his hands on a towel, leaned against the counter, and called out, "Vaani!"
A beat later, his voice came again, a little louder. "Vaani, come out for lunch."
From the bedroom, she answered softly, "Coming."
A few seconds later, Vaani appeared. She had tied her hair loosely into a messy bun, and a few strands framed her face.
Her kurta and palazzo were simple, but she looked fresh, even if her eyes seemed slightly heavy, as if she'd been thinking too much.
She smiled when she saw the plates already on the table.
"You cooked?" she asked, raising her brows as she slid into her chair.
"Who else?" Dhruv replied, sitting opposite her, his tone dry but not unkind.
Vaani chuckled lightly, though the sound didn't carry the same volume it usually did. She picked up her spoon, mixing a bit of dal with rice before taking a small bite. Dhruv mirrored her movements, but after only a few bites, his gaze flicked up.
She was eating quietly. Very quietly.
Usually, she would fill these moments with chatter—commenting on the food, sharing some random memory, or making a silly observation about how the rice clumped together. Today, there was none of that. Just the faint sound of her spoon against her plate.
His brows furrowed slightly. "What's your plan there?" he asked casually, breaking the silence.
Vaani looked up, surprised, as if she had forgotten conversation was expected. She gave a small smile and said, "Just the usual. Roaming around, photos, and stuff."
She smiled again, meeting his gaze directly this time, and the look in her eyes was steady. Nothing seemed off—her tone was light, her expression open.
Dhruv studied her a second longer. On the surface, she was normal. Smiling, talking, answering without hesitation. But the words were fewer. Too few. He noticed the gap—the missing layers of commentary that always colored her speech.
Still, he leaned back slightly, letting his frown fade. Maybe it was just the travel. Last-minute packing always came with stress. She was leaving in a day, after all.
"That's good," he said simply.
"Yep, yep," Vaani replied quickly, her smile widening, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
They ate in silence again, the rhythm of cutlery against plates filling the room. Dhruv didn't press further. He had never been the type to poke or prod, especially when she looked like she was managing herself.
Just as she was about to take another bite, her phone lit up on the table beside her. The screen flashed Aai calling.
Vaani's eyes softened instantly. She wiped her hand quickly, picked it up, and rose from her seat. "Oh, Aai is calling," she said, almost apologetically.
Dhruv gave a small nod, gesturing with his chin. "Take it."
She smiled once more, a quick grateful glance, before she walked toward the balcony, her voice already brightening as she answered, "Hello, Aai!"
Dhruv continued eating, but his eyes followed her retreating figure.
Through the half-open balcony door, he could hear the cadence of her voice—lighter, more animated.
She was talking faster, filling in details of her plans for tomorrow, probably laughing at something her mother said.
It wasn't unusual. With her family and friends, Vaani always let loose, always chattered freely.
But with him... today, she had been holding back.
He chewed slowly, his gaze lingering on the curve of her back as she leaned against the railing outside. He wasn't suspicious—at least, not yet. But there was something in the contrast that planted a small seed of doubt in his mind.
She wasn't being entirely normal.
And Dhruv, though quiet, noticed things.
Still, he leaned back, exhaling softly. He told himself it was nothing—just pre-travel tension, nerves, the weight of lists and what-ifs pressing on her mind. He didn't want to make it bigger than it was. The last thing she needed was more pressure.
So he let it go.
For now.
Vaani laughed at something her mother said about not forgetting her sunscreen, her voice carrying faintly into the dining room. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, listening attentively, her shoulders loosening the way they always did when she spoke to her family.
Meanwhile, Dhruv cleared his plate, rinsed it in the sink, and set it on the rack. He moved with his usual quiet efficiency, but his thoughts remained half in the balcony.
Maybe after she finished packing, after the stress of preparation settled, she'd go back to her usual self. Maybe then the chatter would return, the small asides, the jokes she often cracked at her own expense.
He grabbed his phone from the counter, scrolling absently through emails, but his eyes flicked once more toward the balcony, where her laughter rose again like a small, bright ripple.
His brows pulled together slightly, then smoothed out.
Let her finish packing, he told himself. She'll relax. She'll get back to normal.
After ten minutes, Vaani returned from the balcony, phone still in hand, cheeks a little pink from smiling. She looked at him briefly, offering a soft, almost sheepish smile.
"Sorry, Aai was going on and on," she said, sliding her phone onto the table.
Dhruv nodded. "No problem."
She sat down again, finishing the last few bites of her meal in silence. Dhruv didn't ask more questions. He simply watched her for a moment, then returned his gaze to his phone.
And though the room was quiet, an invisible thread tugged between them—his quiet curiosity, her quiet restraint.
On the surface, everything was fine. Normal. But somewhere underneath, a shift had begun.
And neither of them had found the words for it yet.
~·~
The rest of the day passed in muted tones.
Vaani had spent most of it bent over her suitcase, folding and refolding clothes with a precision she didn't usually care for.
Normally, packing with her meant chaos—half the closet spread out on the bed, her sitting cross-legged in the middle of it all, talking a mile a minute about which outfit looked better in photos or which earrings went with what.
But today?
Today she moved silently, her lips pressed thin, her thoughts heavy. The words that Geeta had planted days ago—unwelcome, thorny words—were eating her alive. Too talkative... Dhruv hates too much talking... he'll never say it, but he'll adjust... They echoed in her head like a cruel refrain.
By nine in the evening, her bag was nearly done.
She zipped up one suitcase, dragged another closer, and started transferring some of her things.
Dhruv was at a work conference and it had gone on for longer than expected, or so he told her.
Vaani was convinced it was an attempt to stay away from the noise. ... From her.
I need to walk, she thought. And so, without a doubt, she grabbed her phone and went downstairs, licking the door behind her.
~·~
It was 9:30 when Dhruv had returned.
He loosened his tie as he stepped inside, scanning the living room and then the corridor. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the half-open bedroom door, where he saw the outline of the suitcases. He thought to himself, Good, everything's packed. That's one thing less to worry about.
He pushed the door open and glanced inside. But the room was empty. Only the luggage sat waiting, a silent reminder of her departure. His brows drew together.
"Vaani?" he called.
Silence.
He stepped farther in, checking the washroom, even glancing at the balcony. Nothing. His frown deepened. She rarely left the house in the evenings unless she told him.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over her name. Just as he was about to tap, the main door opened softly.
She walked in.
Dhruv looked up, tension easing slightly, but curiosity sparking instead. "Where were you?"
Vaani set her sandals aside, brushing her hair back. "I was just out for a walk."
"A walk?" His voice carried quiet surprise.
"Mm." She nodded, not meeting his eyes for long. "I know I don't usually go, but today I just... wanted to. Felt tired packing all day."
Dhruv studied her for a moment. Her tone was even, her face calm. Nothing alarming. Still, it struck him as unusual. "I see," he murmured, filing it away in his head.
"Did you have dinner?" he asked, stepping aside as she walked past him.
"Yeah, I did," she replied quickly, almost too quickly.
He caught the little hitch in her voice, but he didn't push. He just gave a small nod. "Okay."
"You also eat," she said, soft but firm, before disappearing into the bedroom.
Dhruv stayed still for a few seconds, lips pressing into a thin line. Then he turned to the dining table, sat down, and pulled his phone from his pocket again. He scrolled absently, waiting.
Moments later, she emerged again, now in a loose T-shirt and pajama bottoms. She looked younger, softer like this, her hair tied into a messy bun. She carried a plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
Dhruv got up and joined her, and soon they sat down together—him with his dinner, her with her coffee.
He picked up his spoon, took a few bites, then broke the silence himself. "So what's the plan tomorrow?"
Even as he asked it, he realized how strange it was—he was initiating conversation. Usually, he didn't need to. She filled the spaces, always. But today, the quiet pressed on him, so he found himself bridging it.
Vaani blew lightly on her coffee before answering. "Work, then back home. Flight is Friday at 7 a.m., I think, so... we'll need to leave for the airport by 4."
He nodded, swallowing. "Hmm. And when will you be back?"
"Monday evening," she said without pause.
Another nod. "Hmm."
She glanced at him. His expression was relaxed, unreadable as always. But to her anxious mind, it twisted into something else entirely. She couldn't help the thought: He looks relieved. Maybe he's looking forward to the silence.
Her lips parted, and before she could stop herself, she whispered, "It'll be nice, right? The silence."
Dhruv looked at her, and for a second, confusion flickered in his eyes. He thought she was teasing, being playful in her usual way. So he responded the way he always did—dry, understated, with a shrug. "Of course. I miss the silence."
The words hit her like a slap.
Inside, she crumbled. It felt as though Geeta's voice had been proven true in real time, confirmed by Dhruv's own mouth.
Vaani swallowed hard, forcing a tiny smile. "Yeah. I'm sure you do."
Dhruv's brows furrowed slightly at her tone. He was about to say something—maybe clarify, maybe tease again—but before he could, she stood.
"I'm gonna catch an early night. I'm really tired."
He paused, taken aback, then simply nodded. "Yeah. Go sleep."
She smiled faintly, polite, distant. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," he echoed quietly, watching her retreat into the bedroom.
A few moments later, the light in the room clicked off, leaving only the glow of the hallway lamp.
Dhruv sat back in his chair, fork idle in his hand. He stared at the darkened doorway, his thoughts circling.
She hadn't played along. Normally, she would've countered his teasing with some dramatic complaint, or laughter, or a dozen words tumbling over each other. Tonight, she had folded in on herself instead.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head as if to clear it. Maybe it was just fatigue. Maybe she really was tired from the day of packing.
Still, the confusion lingered, heavy in his chest.
She'll be fine tomorrow, he told himself finally, pushing his plate aside. She has to be.
But as the apartment settled into silence, Dhruv couldn't quite shake the faint unease that trailed his thoughts.
??