Pradeep sat on the edge of his bed, the metal frame creaking faintly beneath him. His room was still-silent in that particular way the night always was in his house, tucked into the back corner of a joint family's second floor. A fan clicked above him, slow and mechanical, stirring the warm air in lazy circles.
The only light in the room came from his phone screen, glowing in the dark like something alive.
One unread message.
Anaya.
He stared at it, unmoving.
He didn't open it right away. He never did. Sometimes he told himself it was because he didn't want to seem too eager. Other times, he admitted-at least internally-that her messages made him feel something he hadn't quite figured out how to hold.
Warmth?
Pressure?
Guilt, maybe. Or something dangerously close to comfort.
She always messaged first. Without fail. Without complaint.
He hated that he noticed it. Hated that it had become a pattern he couldn't match.
But he did notice.
Just like he noticed everything else.
The way she laughed louder when she was trying to hide her nerves. The way her eyes darted down when she was overthinking a joke she'd just made. The way she always filled the space between them, never letting it feel awkward-even when he went completely silent.
He noticed how she adjusted her pace to his without saying a word.
He noticed how she never pushed him for things he wasn't ready to say-but left room for him to say them anyway.
And that scared him.
Because Pradeep wasn't used to being seen. Not like this.
He had built a quiet life for himself-slow, careful, distant. A life with enough space to breathe and not too many attachments that could fall apart. He had friends once. A different circle. A different self. But they were gone now-scattered across countries and timelines. And he had grown used to the silence that followed.
He didn't mind being alone. He told himself that a hundred times.
But then she came-Anaya-with her storm of stories and tired jokes and moments of unbearable honesty.
And now?
Now, being alone didn't feel as peaceful as it used to.
He opened her message slowly, like unfolding a letter he was afraid to finish reading.
Anaya: Got it, doc. Might even draw a smiley on the gauze just to feel dramatic.
His lips curved before he could stop them. Not fully. Just enough to soften the lines of his face.
He typed back without thinking too much.
Pradeep: Only if it's a good smiley. No sad faces allowed.
He stared at the message after it sent. Re-read her words. Imagined her half-laughing as she typed them. And he realized something-
She was becoming a habit.
And habits were dangerous.
Habits made you dependent. Habits could be broken.
That's what scared him the most.
Because no matter how much he tried to keep it casual, no matter how many times he reminded himself not to expect her message-some part of him did.
Some quiet, buried part of him waited for her each day.
For her updates, her "look at this stupid thing that happened" texts. Her sarcasm. Her kindness disguised as jokes. The way she remembered the small stuff-like what tea he liked or how he hated sudden plans. The way she didn't make him feel like a puzzle she needed to solve. Just... someone she was okay walking beside.
She didn't know, of course.
He didn't let her see that side of him. Not fully.
The one that panicked when people got too close. The one that believed things don't last. That people eventually leave-physically or emotionally. That connections, no matter how strong, wore down over time. Faded. Frayed. Slipped into past tense.
He didn't know what scared him more-her seeing all of that, or her staying after she did.
Pradeep leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind him. His shoulders were tense, his breath quiet.
Anaya confused him.
Not because she was hard to understand-but because she was easy to be around. And that, for someone like him, felt complicated.
He didn't know what she wanted from him. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Maybe just the present.
But he saw the way her voice faltered sometimes when they said goodbye.
He noticed the pause in her "see you" messages-like she wasn't sure if she would.
He saw the way she looked at him-not like he was a crush or a placeholder-but like someone who mattered. Who had a weight in her world.
He didn't know if he deserved that.
Not yet.
Not when he was still figuring out how to hold space for himself, let alone someone else.
But still... her presence softened things.
Like maybe it was okay to move a little closer to people. Like maybe not everything had to end in silence or distance. Like maybe some people really did show up... and stay.
He closed his eyes, letting the stillness settle over him again. The phone buzzed softly beside him, but he didn't check it right away.
Instead, he let himself think about her.
Not in a big, dramatic way.
Just quietly. Completely.
The girl who limped and laughed anyway.
Who talked too much and never made him feel like he had to.
Who messaged first-and kept showing up, even when he didn't know how to meet her halfway.
She made him feel like he wasn't failing just because he was still healing.
He didn't have the words for all of it. Not now.
But someday, maybe, he'd find a way to tell her what he saw.
Until then, he'd keep noticing.
And in his own quiet way-
Keep caring.
---
To be continued...