75
The days since Goa had blurred together, like one long stretch of hours marked by unpacked bags and missed sleep, the warm laughter of the wedding already replaced by the hum of everyday life. Their apartment felt quieter now-quieter in a way that made Vaani notice it more.
Dhruv, as usual, had fallen back into rhythm almost instantly. He'd spent the last few mornings glued to his laptop at the dining table, phone buzzing at odd intervals, his brows pressed into that familiar line of focus.
Vaani, meanwhile, had tried to catch up with her own work, sketching at her desk, checking emails, rearranging things around the house-but she kept glancing toward him, waiting for one of his dry comments or smirks to break up the monotony.
Today was no different.
She had been sketching for an hour, pencil tapping against the paper in absent rhythm, when she finally turned to where he sat.
"Dhruv," she called lightly, almost sing-song.
"Hm?" he murmured, eyes still on the screen.
She rolled her chair toward him. "Did you know Aayush and Ria already posted honeymoon pictures? I saw them just now. They're looking sooo cute."
"That's good," Dhruv said. His tone wasn't dismissive, but it wasn't warm either-it was just... functional, like a switch flicked automatically.
Vaani studied him for a moment. "You didn't even look up," she accused softly, mock-pouting.
This time, he did glance at her, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Sorry. I'm just caught up with something."
"You're always caught up with something lately," she teased, but the words carried a hint of truth she didn't acknowledge.
Dhruv's gaze flicked back to his screen. He reached for his phone, thumb flying across the keyboard. A call pinged in, and he stood almost immediately, the chair pushing back with a squeak.
"I'll need to go to the office," he said, voice steady, almost apologetic but not quite. "I'll be back soon."
"Oh," Vaani blinked, masking her disappointment quickly. "Okay, sure."
He grabbed his keys, slipped on his jacket, and with one last glance-more to check if she'd heard than to actually look at her-he was out the door.
The silence that followed seemed louder than his footsteps.
Vaani leaned back in her chair, staring at the half-finished sketch in front of her. The messy pencil strokes blurred. She pressed her lips together, pushing away the sting in her chest.
It's fine. He's just busy.
She reminded herself that Dhruv had always been like this-quiet, focused, intense when it came to work. It wasn't new. It wasn't personal.
So why did it feel different now?
Maybe because after Goa-after nights of laughter, dancing, and the strange little moments between them-she had expected the closeness to carry home. But instead, it felt like he had tucked those parts of himself away again, locked them up in the quiet armor of his work.
Vaani shook her head quickly, muttering to herself. "No, no. Stop. You're overthinking. He's not ignoring you. He's just... Dhruv."
She stood up, stretched her arms dramatically, and forced herself to dive back into her sketches.
But her pencil felt heavier than usual.
Meanwhile, across the city, Dhruv's car pulled into the office basement, the weight of numbers and deadlines pressing into his skull.
By the time he swiped into the building, he had already silenced two calls, replied to five emails, and mentally prepared himself for the chaos waiting upstairs.
The office greeted him with its usual sterile hum-printers whirring, keyboards clattering, phones ringing in clipped tones. His team glanced up briefly, acknowledging him before sliding back to their screens.
"Sir, we need you in Conference Room B," his assistant said, walking briskly alongside him.
Dhruv gave a short nod. "All documents ready?"
"Yes. But there's been a change in-"
"Then adjust it," Dhruv cut in, not harshly, but with the brisk certainty of someone who didn't have time to repeat himself.
The meeting swallowed him whole. Charts flashed on the screen, numbers volleyed across the table, questions thrown at him like darts he caught and returned calmly. His voice was steady, his notes precise, his answers clipped and professional.
Yet somewhere in the back of his mind-beneath the numbers, beneath the hum of fluorescent lights-was the echo of Vaani's sing-song "Dhruv, did you know..."
He had brushed it off, but the sound lingered.
Back at home, Vaani had put on music to fill the silence. She hummed along, dragging herself through her sketches, her chai now cold at her desk.
Every so often, she glanced at the clock. It wasn't late, but it felt late.
She caught herself muttering, "It's fine, he'll be back soon," as if she needed to hear it out loud to believe it.
Still, she couldn't shake the small ache in her chest. Not anger, not yet-just a quiet kind of disappointment that settled in like dusk, unnoticed until the room was dim.
She closed her sketchbook, leaning back in her chair.
The apartment was too quiet.
The office buzzed louder than usual. Phones were ringing constantly, chairs scraping back and forth as people darted between desks, and printers spat out documents in rapid-fire succession.
Dhruv sat at the head of the long table in the glass-walled conference room, his laptop open and three files spread neatly in front of him.
His pen tapped against the folder as he scanned the slides being projected on the wall.
"Sir, as you can see," one of his managers said, adjusting his glasses nervously, "the Singapore partners are willing to push their timelines back by two weeks, but.
.." He hesitated, then clicked to the next slide.
"...the Delhi team insists the negotiation must happen in person. They don't want any more video calls."
Dhruv looked up, his expression calm but unreadable. "Why?"
"They feel there have been too many miscommunications already. They want physical presence to finalize."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioning.
Dhruv leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin.
He didn't like unnecessary travel. It meant wasted hours on flights, jetlag, disruptions.
But he also understood when a face-to-face meeting was unavoidable.
"Alright," he said finally, his voice even. "Book the flight. I'll go."
The team exchanged quick, relieved glances.
One of the younger associates, perhaps emboldened, spoke up. "Sir, we could arrange for someone else to-"
"No," Dhruv cut him off, not unkindly, but firm. "It needs to be me. If they're insisting on in-person, then it has to be handled properly."
The matter was settled. Pens scratched against notepads as instructions were scribbled down. Dhruv didn't bother writing anything-he had already stored every detail in his mind.
The meeting continued, moving from deadlines to budgets, then to projections. Dhruv answered questions one after another, his tone clipped, precise. His phone buzzed twice, but he ignored it. His mind was fully locked on the charts, the numbers, the back-and-forth of strategy.
For him, once he stepped into this mode, everything else blurred into the background.
By the time the meeting ended, it was late afternoon. His assistant walked beside him, rattling off follow-ups.
"I'll need to confirm your Delhi flights, sir. Should I book for this weekend?"
"Yes," Dhruv said without hesitation.
"Return Monday night?"
"Make it Tuesday morning. I don't want rushed conversations."
The assistant nodded, jotting notes quickly. "Understood. Should I also reschedule the Singapore call?"
"Shift it. Late next week."
"Yes, sir."
They reached his office. Dhruv stepped inside, loosening his tie slightly, though his expression remained as composed as ever. His phone buzzed again-messages, probably. Without checking, he slid it onto the desk and pulled up the next report.
Numbers. Deadlines. Meetings. Charts.
The rhythm of his work consumed him completely.
Back at home, Vaani was sprawled on the couch, sketchbook open on her lap. She'd sent him a few texts that afternoon-nothing heavy, just little things.
Ria sent me honeymoon pics. They look so happy.
What do you want for dinner?
Simran says hi btw.
All three sat unread, the little check marks taunting her from the screen.
She sighed, trying to brush it off. It wasn't the first time he'd been buried in work. But still, a part of her couldn't help feeling a little hollow at the silence.
She glanced around their quiet apartment. The memories of Goa, of laughter and dancing, felt so far away now, replaced with empty rooms and unanswered texts.
He's busy. That's all. Stop overthinking, she told herself.
But she couldn't help it.
Meanwhile, Dhruv barely noticed the time passing. He powered through files, returned calls, signed off on documents. His concentration was razor-sharp, the outside world reduced to numbers and voices through the phone.
When his assistant returned with the itinerary, Dhruv barely glanced before nodding.
"Your flight is Friday morning, sir. 8:30. You'll land in Delhi by 11."
"Good."
"I've also arranged the driver to pick you up from the hotel for the Sunday meetings."
"Fine."
His replies were short, but not rude-simply efficient, the way he always was when submerged in work.
The assistant hesitated. "Should I... let your family know you'll be out of town?"
Dhruv looked up briefly, as though the thought had only just occurred to him. "No. I'll handle it."
"Of course, sir."
The assistant left. Dhruv leaned back, staring at the itinerary for a long moment before sliding it into the folder.
There was no flicker of guilt yet, no pause to think about what it might mean for Vaani. His mind was still too deeply hooked into the current pulling him-deliverables, strategies, outcomes. Everything else could wait.
At least, that's what he told himself.
~·~
The clock on the living room wall ticked louder than usual.
Vaani sat curled up on the sofa, sketchbook resting forgotten on her lap.
The apartment was too quiet-eerily so compared to the chaos of Goa, where laughter had echoed in every corridor and music had become the background score of every moment.
She glanced at her phone again. 9:00 p.m.
Still nothing.
Dhruv hadn't texted, hadn't called. She bit her lip, her brows furrowing slightly.
He's probably just busy. Don't be dramatic, she told herself, but her heart wouldn't settle. The silence felt heavier tonight, stretching across the room like a blanket she couldn't kick off.
Her mind, annoyingly, began spinning.
Did I... do something wrong?
Her thoughts leapt back to the wedding. To the sangeet, the crowd, the laughter, her tugging his hand until he gave in and danced.
She'd twirled in his hold, laughed when he smirked, even leaned into him during the chaos.
At the time, he hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, she'd thought-no, she'd felt-he was enjoying himself, in his own quiet way.
But what if he hadn't?
What if he'd just gone along because she'd begged?
She hugged a pillow close to her chest. Maybe I embarrassed him. Maybe he doesn't like being pulled into attention like that. Maybe...
The thoughts tumbled faster, tightening like knots in her chest.
Her eyes flickered to the door. The longer it stayed shut, the more anxious she grew. She wanted to wait for him, talk to him, at least see his face. Maybe if she saw him, the buzzing worry in her head would quiet down.
But her body betrayed her. It had been a long day, even though she hadn't done much. The leftover exhaustion from travel, the emotional whirlwind of the wedding, the restless waiting tonight-it all piled onto her eyelids.
She yawned, trying to fight it. She shook her head, stretched her arms, even tried scrolling her phone. But the numbers blurred, her vision dipped.
Finally, with a defeated sigh, she rose from the sofa and padded to the bedroom. She told herself she'd only lie down for a little while-just rest until he came. But the moment her head touched the pillow, her breathing slowed, her lashes fluttered shut.
Sleep claimed her quickly.
It was past 10:00 p.m. when Dhruv unlocked the door. He stepped inside quietly, setting down his briefcase by the entrance. The apartment was dim, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound.
His gaze went immediately to the living room. Empty.
He frowned, then walked toward the bedroom, loosening his tie as he moved.
Pushing the door open, he paused.
There she was-curled up on her side, the blanket half-pulled over her, hair spilling across the pillow. Her phone was still beside her, the screen dark.
Dhruv's expression softened, though it was almost imperceptible.
He stood there for a moment, just watching.
She looked peaceful in sleep, but he could tell-by the slight crease near her brow, by the way her hand was still curled near her phone-that she hadn't gone to bed casually. She'd been waiting.
A faint tug of guilt pressed at him.
He hadn't spoken to her all day. Hadn't replied to her texts. Hadn't even thought to check in. Work had swallowed him whole, as it often did, and he'd let it.
Now, seeing her like this, asleep after waiting, he felt the quiet sting of realization.
She must have waited... and I wasn't there. Oh God.
He sighed, loosening the last button of his cuff as he walked quietly to his side of the bed. He set his phone down on the nightstand, his movements careful not to disturb her.
Sliding under the blanket, he lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. The room smelled faintly of her lavender lotion, soft and familiar.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at her again. Her lashes rested against her cheeks, breathing even, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.
The guilt pressed again, heavier this time. He wanted to reach out-just brush her hair from her face, maybe murmur an apology even though she couldn't hear. But instead, he stayed still, hands folded across his chest.
Dhruv wasn't good with words. He wasn't good at explaining himself, at filling silences. But as he lay there, listening to her quiet breathing, he knew one thing: tomorrow, he'd at least try to give her some of the time he'd stolen away today.
With that thought lingering, his own exhaustion crept in. The weight of work, the hours in meetings, the endless numbers-all of it finally pulled him under.
And so, the two of them slept.
Vaani, with her worries still tucked somewhere in her dreams.
Dhruv, with a faint trace of guilt pressed against his otherwise composed heart.
The night held them in silence.
~·~
The morning light slipped through the curtains, spilling pale gold across the apartment. The faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen had already announced that Vaani was up. Dhruv came out of the bedroom, buttoning the cuff of his shirt as he adjusted his watch, his face as unreadable as ever.
He stopped short when he saw her standing near the mirror by the hallway, carefully draping her shawl over her shoulder.
For a second, he simply looked. Her outfit wasn't one of her usual home-wear kurtis-this was something more formal, a deep teal kurta that hugged her neatly. She had a small tote on the sofa, stuffed with files. Her hair was left open, falling past her shoulders.
"You aren't working from home today?" Dhruv asked, his brow lifting slightly. His voice carried more surprise than judgment, but still, it was unusual.
Vaani glanced at him in the mirror, lips twitching into a small smile. "No... I think I'll go to work today. Been too long, you know?"
He hummed, a low thoughtful sound. "Hmm."
There was a pause. She looked at him, hesitating before asking lightly, "Can you drop me?"
He froze in the middle of adjusting his sleeve. "Ah... I'm going to the office in Abu Dhabi today." His tone was steady, matter-of-fact. "I don't know if..."
She cut him off quickly, her smile bright but practiced. "No, no-I understand. I get it." She waved her hand as if dismissing her own request. "It's fine."
Dhruv studied her for a moment, as if he wanted to press further, but instead he asked quietly, "You sure?"
"Of course." She gave a little shrug, grabbing her tote and setting it upright. "It's fine."
"I'm... sorry," he said, genuine in the way his voice dipped.
Vaani shook her head, forcing lightness into her tone. "No, Dhruv, it's fine. Don't worry."
There was another pause between them. Dhruv checked the time on his watch before adding, "By the way, I need to travel on Friday."
She blinked, mid-step. "What?"
"Yeah." He exhaled, looking distracted already, mind clearly juggling too many tasks. "I have a meeting in Delhi from Friday... I'll be back Tuesday."
"Oh." Her lips parted slightly before curving into something resembling a smile. "I see."
He nodded. "There's been a lot of work going on."
"Yeah. I understand."
But the brightness in her voice dimmed slightly, betraying her.
Before either could say more, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the caller ID and sighed. "Okay, I really need to go."
"Yeah, of course," Vaani replied quickly, lifting her tote onto her shoulder.
He grabbed his laptop bag, leaned down for his shoes, and within minutes was out the door, phone pressed to his ear, his tone brisk and professional.
Vaani stood there for a moment, staring at the door after it clicked shut. She took in a slow breath, her tote suddenly heavier than before.
Then, with practiced energy, she locked the door behind her and headed out herself.
The city bustled as she drove herself to work. Traffic blurred past, horns honking, the sun growing warmer. But inside the car, Vaani's thoughts spun quietly.
She told herself it was fine-he was busy, he always had been. It wasn't personal. But the small sting wouldn't leave.
She thought about the way he'd said it: "I'll be back Tuesday." As if four days away was a casual detail, not something that would matter to her. She hated that it did matter.
By the time she parked outside her office, she'd plastered a smile back onto her face. Her colleagues greeted her warmly, excited to see her after a few days. She let their chatter wash over her, burying her restless thoughts in work.
Meanwhile, miles away, Dhruv sat in his office, already swallowed whole by the day's demands. Spreadsheets, calls, presentations-it consumed every ounce of focus he had. He hardly even realized the morning had passed until his assistant knocked to remind him of lunch.
For him, it wasn't that he didn't care. It was that work left him no room to breathe, no room to think of anything else.
For her, it wasn't that she wanted all his time. Just some acknowledgment, some sign that she wasn't invisible in the whirlwind of his schedule.
Neither said any of that aloud. And so, another quiet crack formed in the space between them-small, invisible, but there.
Hours later, as the sun began its descent, Dhruv's day pressed on. Meetings stacked one after another, his phone buzzing nonstop. He kept telling himself he'd text Vaani soon, maybe when he had five minutes to breathe.
But those five minutes never came.
At the same time, Vaani was wrapping up her own day, her desk covered in scattered sketches and papers.
She tucked them away, yawning softly, but her heart wasn't in it.
As she packed up, she wondered what time Dhruv would be home tonight.
Wondered if he'd be too tired to even ask how her first day back at work had gone.
She hated herself a little for caring so much. Stop overthinking. He's just busy.
But still, the ache lingered.
When Dhruv finally stepped into the apartment late that night, the lights were low again, the apartment quiet. But this time, Vaani wasn't waiting. She was already asleep.
For a moment, he stood at the door, just like he had the night before. The guilt pricked him again, but he swallowed it, telling himself tomorrow would be different.
And then, without a word, he slipped inside and let the door click shut behind him.
??