Kabir's POV

Silence was familiar to me.

Not the awkward kind that begged to be filled, but the steady, disciplined kind that followed long hours and heavy decisions. The kind that stayed after conversations ended, after pain was managed, after expectations were lowered. I trusted silence more than words. Words bent too easily.

The gym was nearly empty when I finished my last set.

Sweat dripped down my spine as I stood, catching my breath, the sharp smell of iron and disinfectant grounding me. Routine had always been my anchor. Work. Training. Repeat. It kept the mind clear and the past where it belonged.

Or so I told myself.

My phone vibrated against the bench.

Tanmay.

“You alive?” he asked the moment I answered.

“Unfortunately,” I said, grabbing my towel.

He laughed. “You’ve been disappearing again.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’re always busy when you don’t want to think.”

I ignored that. Tanmay had a habit of seeing too much and saying it out loud. We’d been friends long enough for him to recognize patterns I preferred to deny.

“You still in the city?” he asked.

“For now.”

There was a pause. “Funny thing,” he said carefully. “Ran into someone today. From… before.”

My grip tightened around the towel.

“Be specific,” I said.

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Prarthana.”

The name landed heavier than I expected.

I said nothing.

Tanmay exhaled. “Didn’t talk to her. Just saw her. Thought you should know.”

I ended the call shortly after, offering no reaction. No questions. No confirmation. The gym lights hummed softly overhead as I sat there, unmoving, letting the weight settle.

So she was here.

I hadn’t planned for that.

I hadn’t planned for the way her name still knew exactly where to hurt.

Years ago, I’d believed clarity solved everything. That honesty was enough. Say what you feel, stand where you choose, and accept the outcome. It was simple. Clean.

Reality had taught me otherwise.

Some truths arrived at the wrong time.

Some silences chose for you.

I stepped outside into the evening air, the city alive with noise that failed to reach me. Faces passed by. Conversations blurred. I remained untouched by it all, walking forward with the discipline I’d built carefully over years.

I wasn’t angry anymore. Anger burned fast and died young.

What lingered was something quieter. Sharper.

Memory.

I remembered waiting. Remembered choosing patience when I should have chosen pride. Remembered mistaking hesitation for hope.

I stopped at a crossing, the signal glowing red. Across the street, people moved past each other without meaning, without consequence. I wondered briefly if she had learned to do the same.

The light turned green.

I crossed without looking back.

If our paths crossed again, it wouldn’t be because I chased the past.

It would be because some silences refused to stay buried.

And when that moment came, I knew one thing for certain.

I wouldn’t be the one left waiting this time.