In Their Sleep
419 Words
After that quiet moment, they slowly moved apart.
Not abruptly.
Not awkwardly.
Just naturally — like both of them understood that pushing it further would make it heavy.
Aarti lay down first, turning toward her side of the bed.
Manav switched off the lamp.
Darkness wrapped around them again.
For a few seconds, they were aware of each other’s presence more than usual.
Then —
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Good night,” he replied.
No touching.
No reaching.
Just space.
But it wasn’t the old distance.
It was softer.
They drifted to sleep like that.
---
Sometime in the middle of the night—
The unconscious takes over where pride leaves off.
Aarti shifted first.
Half asleep, searching for warmth.
Her hand moved forward, resting lightly against his shirt.
Manav stirred.
Instinctively — not consciously — he turned toward her.
His arm slid around her waist.
Loose.
Protective.
Natural.
Neither of them fully woke.
But their bodies recognized comfort.
She curled slightly closer.
He tightened his hold just a little.
Breathing synced.
Steady.
---
Morning light filtered into the room.
Aarti woke first.
And froze.
Her back was pressed against his chest.
His arm was securely around her waist.
Her hand was tucked between them, fingers gripping fabric like she’d chosen it.
Her heart began to race.
Slowly, carefully, she looked down.
He was still asleep.
Relaxed.
Unaware.
Or pretending to be.
She didn’t move.
Not immediately.
Instead, she allowed herself one quiet second.
One second of not overthinking.
One second of just… staying.
His arm tightened slightly.
She felt his breath near her hair.
“Don’t move,” he murmured sleepily.
Her pulse jumped.
“You’re awake?”
“Now I am.”
She swallowed. “You’re holding me.”
“You’re the one who came here.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
Silence.
Neither of them moved away.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t urgent.
It was warm.
And familiar.
Like something they had been meant to grow into.
Finally, she shifted just enough to turn slightly toward him.
Not fully facing.
Just enough.
“Are we pretending this is accidental?” she asked softly.
“No,” he replied, voice still rough with sleep.
A tiny smile tugged at her lips.
“Okay.”
And for a few more minutes—
They stayed exactly like that.
No rush to break it.
No rush to define it.
Just two people waking up tangled in something neither of them wanted to undo.
- Writer
