A warm Sunday breeze blew through Karthik's room, rustling the corner of his sketchbook. He sat cross-legged on the floor, pencil in hand, but his focus was elsewhere.
Not on the drawing.
But on the message blinking on his phone.
Ananya: "Can I come over?"
He stared at it, a part of him still finding it unbelievable that someone like her wanted to spend time with someone like him. But another part—one growing louder with each passing day—didn't feel afraid anymore.
Karthik: "Yes."
Ten minutes later, she was there.
She wore a simple kurta, hair tied in a messy bun, a small smile on her face as she stepped into his room.
"This is… very Karthik," she said, looking around.
He chuckled nervously. "Meaning?"
She pointed to the bookshelves overflowing with novels and old sketchbooks, the desk covered in graphite pencils, and a single poster of an old anime pinned above his bed.
"It's quiet," she said. "But it feels full."
He didn't know what to say to that. So instead, he handed her a folded paper from his desk.
She opened it to find a sketch. It was of her, mid-laugh, one eye closed as if she'd just blinked at a joke. A moment he'd captured in class one day when she wasn't looking.
Her fingers trembled slightly. "Karthik…"
"I used to draw to escape," he said quietly. "Now I draw to remember."
She looked up at him, eyes shining. "Do you remember all of me?"
"Every expression. Every word you've ever said to me," he admitted.
She stepped closer, the space between them shrinking like breath on a cold mirror.
"I wish you could see yourself how I see you," she whispered.
"I think I'm starting to," he said.
They sat side by side on the floor, knees brushing. Ananya picked up one of his sketchbooks, flipping through pages filled with silent observations—friends laughing, school hallways, quiet sunrises.
"You see the world like it's always speaking to you," she murmured.
He glanced at her. "Only when you're in it."
She laughed, startled and shy at the same time. "Where did this romantic version of you come from?"
"I think he was always there," he said. "He just needed you to bring him out."
She reached out, intertwining her fingers with his.
No fear this time.
No second-guessing.
Only warmth.
"Promise me something, Karthik," she said softly.
"Anything."
"When you get scared again—when the dark thoughts try to pull you back—you'll remember this. Us. This moment."
"I will," he promised. "Because when I see you, the darkness fades."
And for the first time, Karthik didn't just feel seen.
He felt understood.
He felt loved.
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End of Chapter 127