Almost a Confession
402 Words
Manav began staying home earlier.
One evening, Aarti was arranging her plants near the window, sunlight falling across her face.
Manav stood behind her for a while before speaking.
“You talk to them more than you talk to me.”
She didn’t turn. “They responds better.”
He smirked faintly. "Do they?"
"Hmm. They don't overthink."
That hit somewhere.
“I’m trying,” he said quietly.
She turned, slightly surprised. “Trying what?”
“To not live like I’m still broken.”
There was no background music. No dramatic lighting. Just the faint hum of the ceiling fan.
He took a breath.
“When I married you, I thought calm was enough. I thought peace was safer than love.”
She listened. No visible emotion. Just steady eyes.
“But now…” he continued, voice lower, more certain, “when I come home, I look for you first. When something good or bad happens, you’re the first person I think of telling. When you’re quiet… I notice.”
Aarti’s expression didn’t crumble. She didn’t cry.
She just stood there, absorbing every word.
“I don’t know when it happened,” he said. “Somewhere between grocery runs and your plant lectures… you stopped being an arrangement.”
Silence.
The air shifted.
“And?” she asked softly.
He swallowed.
“I don’t want calm anymore.”
His voice dropped just a little.
“I want ...”
Before he could finish.
**Ding-dong.**
The doorbell rang.
They both froze.
It rang again. Louder this time.
Manav stepped back instantly, clearing his throat. “Probably a parcel.”
Aarti nodded. “Yeah. Parcel.”
Neither moved for a few seconds.
The bell rang a third time.
He finally turned and walked toward the door.
From the hallway she heard:
“Sir, your courier.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
When he came back inside, the moment had dissolved. The sunlight felt different. The air cooler.
He placed the parcel on the table.
“So… I ordered a charger,” he said unnecessarily.
“Good,” she replied, equally unnecessary.
Awkwardness thickened the room.
The confession had been left hanging.
Incomplete.
And maybe that was worse than not saying it at all.
But that night, when they lay on opposite sides of the bed, the distance between them felt charged — not empty.
Something had begun.
It just hadn’t found its ending yet.
- Writer
