WHEN THE HEART STAYED AWAKE
911 Words
AVINESH
He wasn’t used to this.
This quiet ache in his chest. The kind that didn’t hurt—but refused to leave. The kind that lingers like the last note of a beautiful song.
Avinesh sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, his work laptop open on the desk beside him—untouched for hours. Deadlines loomed. Mails went unanswered. But tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to focus.
It was just a girl.
No. Not just.
Rithu.
He whispered her name in his mind like it was unfamiliar, yet strange how softly it settled on his thoughts.
He wasn’t the type to lose sleep over someone. Not even over work, and that said a lot. But tonight, he felt like a boy again. Restless. Unsure. Caught in something delicate that he couldn’t fully name.
He had been raised to value logic. Silence. Focus. He had spent years sculpting himself into a man who knew when to speak and when not to.
But today—he couldn’t stop remembering.
The green saree.
He’d seen women in sarees all his life. It was nothing new.
But the way Rithu carried it…
It wasn’t the fabric. It was the calm in her posture. The slight nervousness she’d tried to hide when her eyes had accidentally met his. The way her fingers fidgeted with the corner of her pallu when the silence stretched longer than either of them expected.
He remembered how the light had caught her profile when she looked away—softly highlighting the innocence in her face, something she perhaps didn’t even know she had.
And that smile—when she’d said:
" I never like losing arguments with my father."
God. He had smiled too. But now, recalling it, he laughed under his breath. A helpless, private laugh that made him shake his head at himself.
What is happening to me?
His phone lit up again. He hadn’t received anything. It was just him, brushing the screen again with his thumb.
He opened her contact.
Rithu Krishna.
It sat there like a quiet temptation. One that didn’t demand anything, yet pulled everything inside him toward it.
He had her number.
He could message her.
But what would he say?
He wasn’t the kind of man who sent awkward texts. He wasn’t a teenager. He wasn’t impulsive.
Except—tonight, maybe he was.
He stared at the screen for what felt like forever.
And did nothing.
But in doing nothing, he realized everything.
He had fallen for someone.
Not in the fireworks-and-drama kind of way. No. It was quieter. Like a seed planted gently somewhere deep in his heart—without him noticing.
And now, it was growing.
RITHU
The room was silent.
Too silent.
Rithu had turned off the light, pulled the blanket over her, turned to her right, then left—then back again. Nothing worked.
She wasn’t a girl who spent her nights dreaming of anyone. She had trained herself to be firm. Rational. Structured.
Her room had always been her safe space.
Until tonight.
Tonight it felt too small for the feelings pressing against her chest.
It had been hours since he left. But his presence hadn’t.
She kept going back to the few moments they’d had on the verandah. He hadn’t spoken much. But his eyes had. There was something about the way he had looked at her.
Not the way boys looked when they wanted to flatter. Not the way strangers scanned one another with curiosity.
He had looked... like he was listening.
To her silence.
And that scared her.
Because she had never had to explain herself to anyone. But somehow, she felt like he already understood the parts of her she barely allowed herself to understand.
She curled up, hugging the pillow.
She wasn’t this person. She didn’t lose sleep over men. Over anyone.
But she remembered the way his voice had sounded—low and calm. Like he meant every word, even when he said very little.
She remembered her mother whispering after they left:
"There’s a stillness in him, Rithu. A good stillness."
And Rithu had nodded without answering.
Because she had felt it too.
The soft, grounded energy that came with him. The way he didn’t try to impress. And yet, without trying—he had.
She didn’t have his number. But she was sure he had hers. Her father was old-fashioned like that.
She glanced at her phone. No new messages.
A part of her was relieved.
Another part…
Hoped.
She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.
He had worn a white shirt. Crisp. Simple. She remembered how the veins on his wrist stood out when he reached for the coffee cup.
She remembered everything.
And she wasn’t sure what it meant. Only that tonight, her heart felt a little less like a courtroom.
And a little more like a poem.
---
AVINESH
He finally typed a message.
> “I hope you got home safe.”
He stared at it.
Didn’t send.
Deleted it.
He didn’t want to come across eager. Or awkward.
He sighed and turned off the phone.
But as he lay down, a thought sat beside him quietly:
She doesn’t know what she’s done to me.
And even if nothing came of it…
He would remember this night.
Because for the first time—he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow.
He was lost in a moment that had already passed.
But still hadn’t ended.
- Writer
