SHANAYA'S POV :

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred and thirty-six hours.

That's how long it had been since I last spoke to Kabir.

At first, it had been nothing but mild confusion—maybe he was busy, caught up in work, or dealing with something personal. I had tried to rationalize it, telling myself he'd text me soon. Maybe he'd just gotten overwhelmed. Maybe he was the kind of person who needed space.

But as the days passed, confusion turned into worry. Then frustration. Then something deeper, something I refused to name.

I wasn't naïve. I knew what it looked like when a man lost interest. I had seen it happen before, felt it happen before. But with Kabir, it didn't make sense. Not after the way he had looked at me. Not after the way he had kissed me.

Not after the way he had made me feel like I was something... different.

And yet, here I was. Alone with my thoughts, overanalyzing every text, every touch, every glance—trying to figure out where I had gone wrong.

Because that was the worst part.

I didn't even know if I had done something to push him away.

I tried to go about my days like normal. College, friends, assignments. Laughing at jokes, making plans, pretending everything was fine. But everything felt hollow, like I was moving through life in a haze.

Even the things I loved—like debating in class, sitting in the cafe with Isha, scrolling through my playlist for my favorite songs—felt dull now. The worst part was that I hated myself for feeling this way. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

He wasn't my boyfriend. He had no promises to keep.

And yet, his absence made me feel like I was standing at the edge of something important, waiting for a door to open—only for it to stay locked.

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The Past That Haunts

This wasn't the first time I had felt something like this.

I had been in school the last time someone had left me waiting for answers.

Rohan.

We had been best friends first. The kind of friends who knew each other's schedules better than their own, who texted all day and talked all night. We had been inseparable, drawn to each other in a way that had been both inevitable and terrifying.

And then, one day, the lines blurred. A confession. A kiss. A shift in the way we saw each other.

For a while, it had been perfect. Until it wasn't.

I could still remember the feeling of waking up one day and realizing that he had stopped showing up the way he used to. The slow fade. The uncertainty. The weeks of silence with no explanation.

And I had hated it. The waiting. The not knowing.

I had waited for him to come back, to tell me why, to give me a reason for the distance. And when he finally had, when he had told me he had been dealing with something personal—something he hadn't known how to talk about—I had understood.

Because it had been Rohan. And I had known him, truly known him, in a way that had given me clarity even in his absence.

But Kabir?

Kabir was different.

Because I didn't know him inside and out. I didn't know what he was thinking, what his reasons were, or even how to reach him. He had slipped into my life so quickly, so unexpectedly, that I hadn't even realized how deeply I had let him in.

Not until he disappeared.

And now, as I sat in class, staring blankly at my notes, unable to focus, I realized the truth.

This wasn't just about the silence.

It was about the fact that, for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do.

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FEW DAYS LATER :

The bass thumped against my chest, the neon lights flashing in sync with the music as I let myself get lost in the energy of the club. It had been two weeks of emptiness, of unanswered questions and restless nights. Two weeks of silence from Kabir.

So tonight, I let myself go.

I laughed louder, danced harder, drank a little more than I probably should have. I let Isha pull me onto the dance floor, let yash make fun of my terrible moves, let the music drown out the ache I had been carrying. And for the first time in days, I felt something close to normal.

Maybe I needed this.

Maybe I needed to remind myself that I existed beyond the lingering thoughts of a man who had walked into my life only to disappear without a word.

And yet... even as I danced, even as I let the alcohol burn down my throat and my body sway with the rhythm, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

Him.

---

The ride home was a blur.

Isha sat beside me in the backseat, giggling about something yash or veer idk who had said while I leaned against the window, watching the city lights rush past. My mind felt light, hazy, like I was floating somewhere between exhaustion and drunkenness.

When the car finally pulled up outside my house, I sighed, rubbing my temples before mumbling, "I think I had too many shots."

Isha chuckled. "No kidding. You had, like, four back to back."

veer gave me a knowing look from the driver's seat. "You gonna be okay getting inside?"

I nodded. "I can handle myself."

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue, knowing I wasn't completely wasted—just tipsy enough to feel warm, to let my guard down.

I stepped out of the car, steadying myself for a second before turning towards my gate. And then -

I froze.

Someone was there.

Leaning against the wall near my doorstep, hands shoved into his pockets, head slightly tilted down.

Kabir.

My breath caught in my throat.

He looked—

Tired.

Exhausted in a way I had never seen before. His usually crisp shirtsleeves were wrinkled, the top buttons undone as if he had pulled at them in frustration. His hair was messier than usual, as though he had run his fingers through it too many times. Even from a few feet away, I could see the tension in his jaw, the weight pressing down on his shoulders.

He looked like a man who hadn't slept, who had been carrying something too heavy for too long.

And he was here.

After two weeks of silence, he was standing outside my house in the middle of the night, waiting.

For me.

My heartbeat quickened, my drunken haze clearing just enough for a million emotions to crash into me all at once—relief, anger, confusion, hope.

I took a shaky step forward, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Kabir...?"

At the sound of my voice, he lifted his head.

And when our eyes met, I saw it.

The same ache, the same longing, the same storm of emotions that had been drowning me for the past fourteen days.

He had been hurting too.

But why?

Why had he disappeared? Why was he here now?

I swallowed hard, taking another step closer, my heart pounding against my ribs.

"What are you doing here?" My voice was unsteady, caught between the alcohol and the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before finally speaking.

"I had to see you."

His voice was rough, almost broken.

And just like that, everything I had been holding in—the pain, the questions, the frustration—came crashing down.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself, trying to understand what was happening.

"You had to see me?" I let out a breathless laugh, the alcohol making me bolder than usual. "Two weeks, Kabir. TWO FUCKING WEEKS of nothing. No calls, no texts. And now you just show up?"

His eyes darkened, guilt flashing across his face.

"I know," he murmured. "I know, Shanaya."

"Then tell me why."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he just stared at me, like he was trying to memorize my face, like he had been starving for the sight of me.

And then, so softly I almost didn't hear it—

"I didn't want to hurt you."

The words sent a shiver down my spine, sobering me up instantly.

What did that mean?

And why did it feel like this was only the beginning of something bigger?

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SO GUYS WHAT DO YOU ALL THINK??

WHAT WAS HIS REASON?

STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT XXX