The days that followed were heavy, thick with unspoken things. The air around Anup and Samraggi had changed. It wasn't just the comfortable silence that had existed before. There was an unacknowledged understanding now, a quiet tenderness that neither of them dared to name.
Anup found himself in an unfamiliar place: between two worlds. One was his past, filled with lies, accusations, and the desperate attempt to hold on to the love he had once known. The other was the present—new, uncertain, and fragile, but also filled with a glimmer of something he hadn't felt in years. Hope.
Hope that maybe, just maybe, he could rebuild. Maybe this time, it wouldn't fall apart.
But the truth was like a shadow, always lurking just behind him. He knew Samraggi could sense it—sense that he was more than what he presented himself to be. But every time she came close to asking, he'd pull away, creating distance between them.
It was another late afternoon when it happened.
Anup had been sitting by the small window in the coffee shop, watching the sun sink below the horizon. Nisha had already fallen asleep on the couch, curled up with a blanket. The world outside was quiet, but inside, the tension hummed.
The bell above the door jingled, and Anup looked up to find Samraggi standing there, her wet coat clinging to her body from the rain outside. Her hair was matted against her forehead, and her eyes were full of something he couldn't quite read.
She didn't say anything at first, just stood there, her gaze locked onto his.
"Is everything okay?" Anup asked, his voice low.
Her eyes flickered to Nisha, who was still sleeping peacefully, before looking back at him. "I need to talk to you," she said quietly, almost hesitantly.
He stood up immediately, his heart skipping a beat. What was it? What did she know?
"Of course," he said, stepping around the counter. "Come sit."
They both moved to a small table near the back, away from the quiet hum of the empty coffee shop. Samraggi sat down first, folding her hands in front of her.
"I… I don't know how to say this," she began, her voice wavering for the first time since they'd met. "But I've been thinking a lot. About you. About what you said…"
Anup's stomach churned. This was it. She was going to ask. She was going to demand the truth, and he couldn't escape it anymore. He wanted to say something—anything—to delay it. To hold onto the little peace he had.
But she spoke again, and this time, the words were different.
"You know," Samraggi said, her eyes meeting his with a strange mixture of warmth and sorrow, "I think I understand more than you realize."
Anup froze, his breath catching in his throat. "What do you mean?"
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady. "I've been through pain too. I've been through a kind of loss that makes everything feel like it's breaking at once. So when you said you were running… I realized something."
Anup's mind raced. Had she guessed? Had she felt his past in his eyes?
"You're not running from the world, Anup. You're running from yourself. You're running from the man who once loved, once trusted, and once believed that things could be different. You're not just afraid of the world; you're afraid of facing what happened to you. What happened to him."
Her words cut through him like a knife. It wasn't just the accuracy of her observation, it was the understanding in her tone. She wasn't accusing him, but offering him the space to breathe, to let go of the guilt that had shackled him for so long.
"I…" he started, but the words stuck in his throat. "I'm not who I was. I'm not him anymore."
"Anup," she said softly, her voice full of compassion, "you can be him again. You can find him again. But only if you let go of the pain first."
Anup's heart trembled in his chest. This wasn't just about his past anymore. It was about a future that seemed impossible, a future where maybe—just maybe—he could build something. Something new. Something real.
He looked down at his hands, trembling ever so slightly. The truth was always waiting, but he had always been too afraid to face it.
Samraggi's eyes softened as she reached across the table, placing her hand over his. The simple gesture was enough to make him look up, and for the first time in a long while, he saw something in her eyes that wasn't just sympathy. It was understanding.
"Let me help you, Anup," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I can't fix everything. But I can be here. I can help you face it. You're not alone in this. Not anymore."
Anup felt the weight of her words settle in his chest. The world seemed to pause, the rain outside mixing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
For the first time since he'd left everything behind, Anup didn't feel like he was drowning. He didn't feel like he was fighting a battle he couldn't win.
Maybe, just maybe, he could let go of the weight he had carried for so long. Maybe, just maybe, he could find peace.
But deep inside, the storm wasn't over. The truth was still out there, waiting. And when it came, it would change everything.
But for now, he had this moment. And that was enough.