This Time It Was Me
637 Words
The day passed quietly.
They moved around each other with a calm that felt almost deceptive — like something unspoken was waiting for night to arrive.
Dinner was simple.
Conversation was light.
But every now and then, their eyes met a second longer than necessary.
Neither mentioned the morning.
Neither forgot it either.
---
### Night
They lay down on their usual sides.
Aarti faced away from him.
Very intentionally.
He noticed.
“You’re building a border?” he asked lazily.
“I’m sleeping,” she replied.
“Hm.”
Silence settled.
The room grew still.
Her breathing gradually deepened.
Or at least she pretended it did.
Manav stared at the ceiling for a while.
Then, without announcement —
He shifted closer.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And slid his arm around her waist.
Pulling her toward him.
Not hesitant.
Not accidental.
Clear.
She stiffened immediately.
Her eyes flew open.
For two seconds she processed what had happened.
Then—
She smiled in the dark.
Slowly.
Very slowly, she turned her head slightly.
“You moved,” she said quietly.
He didn’t deny it.
“Yes.”
“I thought I was the one who ‘crawled’ yesterday.”
“You did.”
“And today?”
“I pulled you.”
She turned more fully in his arms now.
“Ah,” she said thoughtfully. “So you admit it.”
“I do.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to sound victorious.
“So you lose the argument.”
He leaned a little closer.
“No.”
Her brows lifted. “No?”
“I pulled you today,” he said calmly, “because you curled into me yesterday.”
Her mouth opened slightly.
“That doesn’t count.”
“It does.”
She tried to wriggle slightly as if to prove a point.
His arm tightened just enough to stop her.
“You’re not escaping.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“You are.”
A small silence.
Then she poked his chest lightly.
“You’re only doing this to win.”
He tilted his head closer to hers.
“I’m doing this,” he said softly, “because I wanted to.”
That changed the tone.
Her teasing slowed.
The space between their faces shrank naturally.
She studied him for a second in the dim light.
“You weren’t asleep yesterday, were you?” she asked.
“No.”
“You liar.”
“You liked it.”
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
“I did not.”
“You didn’t move away.”
That was true.
She huffed lightly.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means you didn’t want distance.”
Her fingers, almost unconsciously, rested against his chest again.
He noticed.
Didn’t comment.
Instead he said gently—
“You can win the morning argument.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You win. You didn’t crawl.”
A beat.
“I pulled you today.”
She tried not to smile.
“And why did you pull me?” she asked softly.
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“Because it felt wrong not to.”
Her teasing expression faded into something quieter.
He brushed his thumb lightly along her waist — slow, absentminded.
Comfortable.
No rush.
No tension.
Just warmth.
She relaxed fully against him.
“Fine,” she whispered. “You pulled me.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t mind.”
He smiled into the darkness.
Their breathing synced again.
No dramatic escalation.
No urgency.
Just two people choosing closeness on purpose this time.
And before sleep took over—
She murmured softly against his chest,
“Tomorrow I’m not moving first.”
He almost laughed.
“We’ll see.”
And this time—
They fell asleep already tangled.
Not by accident.
Not by argument.
But by choice.
- Writer
