It was past midnight.
The world outside was silent again—heavy with the stillness that only comes when everyone else has surrendered to sleep.
But Ansh couldn't sleep.
Not with the echo of her voice still in his head.
"Before I forget who I am again."
He lay on the bed, one hand resting on his chest, the other clenched in the sheets—mind racing with the shape of her, the scent of her, the soft war in her eyes.
Then—a knock.
Soft. Barely there.
He sat up, heart already galloping. A dream?
No. It came again.
He opened the door.
And there she was.
Riya stood barefoot in the hallway, hair loose, a thin shawl wrapped tight around her. Her expression was unreadable—eyes wide, lips parted slightly, like she'd been caught between decision and impulse.
"I couldn't sleep," she whispered.
He stepped aside.
She didn't wait for permission.
She walked in, slow, cautious... as if every step risked unraveling everything.
Ansh closed the door behind her. The room dimly lit by the warm golden spill of a lamp. Shadows kissed the corners.
Neither of them spoke.
She moved toward the window, pulling the shawl tighter. "There's something about this house," she murmured. "It makes everything feel closer. More… real."
He stood by the edge of the bed, watching her. "Why did you come?"
She turned to face him.
Her eyes were glassy, but not weak. Her voice came low, trembling but firm.
"Because I needed to know… if you feel it too."
The question wasn't fair. And yet it had always been there, between them, waiting.
Ansh stepped closer.
"I do."
Her breath hitched. She didn't move away.
"I try to fight it," she said. "I tell myself it's wrong. That I'm just lonely. That you're just kind." Her voice cracked. "But it's not just kindness, is it?"
"No," he said softly.
She turned her face slightly, hiding the emotion building in her eyes. "Do you know what it feels like… to want something so much it hurts, and still tell yourself you don't?"
He was close enough now to feel the warmth from her skin. To hear her breathing change.
"I do," he whispered. "Every second I'm around you."
She looked up at him—slowly.
And in that look, there was nothing left to hide.
Ansh lifted a hand, just barely, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The back of his fingers traced the side of her face… lingering at the curve of her jaw.
She didn't stop him.
She leaned into it.
His thumb grazed her cheek. Her lips parted.
Every heartbeat screamed for more.
Every breath was a confession.
But when he leaned in, when their lips came close—closer than ever—she tilted her head, pressed her forehead against his instead.
Not a kiss.
Something deeper.
A surrender without breaking the rules.
"I'm terrified," she whispered.
"So am I."
They stood like that—bodies almost touching, breath mingling—for what felt like a thousand lifetimes.
Then—
A voice from outside the door. Yash. Sleepy. Distant.
"Riya? You awake?"
They froze.
Her eyes widened.
He stepped back, instinctively.
She grabbed his hand—held it—just for a second, before whispering, "Don't say anything."
And just like that, she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall, her scent, her warmth, her presence still clinging to the room like smoke.