Episode 13: The Distance Between Us
658 Words
Riya tried to ignore the feeling in her chest—the strange emptiness that came whenever she looked at Ayan and realized he was no longer looking back.
It had been weeks since she’d last had a real conversation with him. And every time she tried, he was either “busy” or “tired.”
She wasn’t stupid.
She knew avoidance when she saw it.
And the worst part? She didn’t know why.
That night, she lay on her bed, scrolling through old messages. Messages where Ayan would instantly reply, send jokes, and check on her if she didn’t respond fast enough.
She scrolled up and up, stopping at one random text from months ago.
Ayan: You can always talk to me, you know? No matter what.
Riya swallowed. It was ironic how he was the one slipping away now.
Before she could second-guess herself, she typed.
Riya: Hey, are you free?
She waited. One minute. Two.
No reply.
Frustrated, she sat up. Fine. If texting won’t work, I’ll talk to him in person.
The Next Day
Riya found Ayan by the library after school, sitting by himself, staring out the window.
For a moment, she hesitated. He looked… lost.
Not sad. Not angry. Just somewhere else.
But she was tired of waiting.
She walked up and sat across from him, dropping her bag on the table. “Avoiding me is getting old, you know.”
Ayan blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. His expression tensed for half a second before returning to indifference. “I’m not avoiding you.”
Riya narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”
Ayan exhaled through his nose and leaned back, rubbing his temple. “I’ve just been busy.”
“Bullshit.”
His gaze snapped to hers, surprised by the sudden sharpness in her voice. Riya barely ever lost her temper—not with him.
“Just tell me, Ayan,” she continued, softer this time. “Did I do something?”
Ayan looked at her for a long moment. Like he was debating something.
Finally, he sighed. “No. You didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Silence.
Riya’s throat tightened. She thought back to the past few weeks, trying to find a moment where she might have hurt him without realizing it. But nothing stood out—except for one thing.
Arjun.
She frowned. “Is this about Arjun?”
Ayan flinched. It was so subtle that if she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she would have missed it.
Her stomach twisted. “Oh my God. It is, isn’t it?”
Ayan shook his head. “It’s not—”
“You think I don’t notice how you change every time I’m with him? How you barely even look at me when we’re around him?”
“I don’t care about Arjun,” Ayan muttered, looking away.
But his fingers curled into a fist on the table.
Riya inhaled sharply. She suddenly felt so stupid.
How had she not noticed it earlier? The way Ayan always seemed a little different whenever Arjun was around. The way he always watched her but never said anything.
Her pulse quickened. “Ayan…”
He stood up. “Forget it, Riya.”
“No.” She grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. “You don’t get to just leave every time things get complicated. You always tell me to talk when something’s wrong. So now I’m asking you—talk to me.”
Ayan didn’t move. His jaw tightened.
But then he gently pulled his hand away.
And when he looked at her again, there was something in his eyes she had never seen before.
Something like… pain.
“Riya,” he said quietly. “Just drop it.”
And before she could stop him, he left.
Leaving her alone, staring after him, heart pounding with a terrifying thought.
Had she already lost him?
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- Writer
