Prarthana's pov

Silence had a way of following me.

It settled into rooms after conversations ended, lingered in the pauses between thoughts, stayed long after I told myself I was fine. I had learned to live with it, even depend on it. Silence was safer than words. Words demanded answers. Silence only asked you to breathe and move on.

That morning, the city felt unusually still.

From my apartment window, I watched the traffic crawl below, people moving with purpose I didn't feel. Twenty-one was supposed to feel lighter than this. Free. Certain. Instead, I carried a constant weight in my chest, as if some unfinished chapter refused to close.

My phone buzzed on the table.

Tanya.

I let it ring twice before answering.

"Tell me you're awake," she said, already impatient.

" I'm awake," I replied. "That doesn't mean I'm ready to face the world.

She sighed dramatically. "You've been hiding for weeks, Prarthana. At some point, you'll have to step back into real life."

Real life. As if I'd ever fully stepped out of it.

"I'm not hiding," I said, through the lies tasted familiar. "I'm just... slowing down."

Tanya didn't argue. She knew better. She always did.

"Fine," she said more gently. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?

"If the past shows up again," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "don't pretend it doesn't hurt."

The line went quiet after that.

I ended the call and leaned back against the chair, closing my eyes. Tanya had always been able to say the things I avoided. The things I buried so deep that even I forgot they existed.

But the past has a way of resurfacing.

I hadn't thought about him in months. Not deliberately. Not the way memories crept in when you least expected them, triggered by a voice, a name, or a familiar stillness. I told myself time had done its job. That distance had softened the edges.

Yet some wounds didn't fade. They simply learned how to stay quiet.

I picked up my bag and stepped out, locking the door behind me. The corridor echoed as I walked, each step steady, controlled. On the surface, I looked composed. I always did.

Inside, something restless shifted.

I didn't know it yet, but the calm I had built so carefully was fragile. And somewhere in the same city, a name I hadn't spoken in years was about to matter again.

Kabir Rathore.