Unfinished Conversations
2149 Words
Segment 1 (≈1400 words)
There was a strange stillness in the air as the end of the semester loomed. Assignments were piling up, presentations were due, and Lakeside University buzzed with the kind of nervous energy only students running on four hours of sleep and two cups of coffee could understand.
But for Anaya, it wasn’t just academic pressure weighing on her. It was something else. Something she hadn’t named yet.
It had been ten days since that night in the old design block with Riaan.
Ten days of half-glances, long texts, warm coffees, brief touches… and yet, no conversation about what they were now.
She found herself staring at her phone more often, overanalyzing his replies, memorizing the tone of his voice in each “Good morning” and “Want to meet at the quad?” And every time she almost asked him—what are we doing?—she backed out.
Because she wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer that might change everything.
⸻
One Friday evening, the Journalism Club held a reading session in the East Courtyard—a popular hangout spot lit with fairy lights and bean bags scattered over the lawn. Students read excerpts from their pieces, shared poetry, or just listened, lost in their own thoughts.
Anaya hadn’t planned to read. She had her essay printed and tucked into her bag, but her nerves weren’t cooperating.
Until Riaan showed up.
He stood at the edge of the circle, hands tucked in his jacket, his presence quiet but undeniable. He nodded at her. Just once. And somehow, that was enough.
She stepped up to the mic.
Heart pounding, she unfolded her essay.
“My piece is called ‘The Structures We Can’t Escape.’”
As she read, her voice grew steadier.
It wasn’t just about architecture. Or identity. It was about emotional blueprints, about how we carry spaces within us—the classrooms we dread, the balconies we once cried on, the people who build us up and walk away before the paint dries.
The crowd was silent when she finished.
And then, applause.
Polite, warm, genuine.
She scanned the crowd. Riaan was still there, still watching.
And in his gaze, she saw something she’d never seen before.
Pride.
And maybe something more.
⸻
After the event, he found her near the edge of the lawn.
“That was…” he searched for the right word, “…unflinching.”
Anaya laughed softly. “Not the adjective I expected.”
“You were honest. That’s rare.”
There was a long pause between them.
“You know,” he added, “I recognized myself in parts of it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re a metaphor for crumbling balconies and unspoken goodbyes?”
“Maybe not crumbling,” he said, smiling. “But unfinished, definitely.”
Anaya’s throat tightened. “We’re all unfinished.”
He nodded. Then, after a beat: “Come with me. Just for a little while.”
⸻
They ended up on the rooftop of the architecture building, where the sky stretched wide above them and the city shimmered faintly in the distance.
Riaan sat down on the ledge, legs hanging over the side. Anaya sat beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“I used to come here when I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “When my mind wouldn’t shut up.”
“Does it ever shut up now?”
He chuckled. “Rarely. But it’s quieter when you’re around.”
Anaya looked at him, startled. “What?”
He turned to face her, his expression unguarded for the first time in days. “I don’t know when it happened. Maybe that day in the library. Or before. But being around you makes everything feel… simpler.”
She felt the words settle over her skin like warm rain.
“I’ve been thinking,” he continued, “about what we are. About what we’re doing.”
Anaya’s heart skipped. This was it.
“I like you, Anaya. More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. And I don’t want to keep pretending this is casual when it’s not.”
Her voice was a whisper. “It’s not.”
“I’m not great with relationships. I overthink. I withdraw. But I want to try. With you.”
She stared at him. Her heart was pounding, but there was a calm inside her too. Like her mind had been waiting for this confession to align with her own unspoken truths.
“I want to try too,” she said. “But I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I overthink everything,” she admitted. “I’ll probably analyze every text you send.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll start sending better ones.”
She laughed—and before she could overthink it, he leaned forward and kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was certain.
Like they had been building up to this moment brick by brick, day by day, without realizing it.
⸻
The next morning, Anaya woke up to a sky painted in soft lavender. She lay in bed with a smile tugging at her lips, heart light and disbelieving.
She had told Zoya everything at midnight.
Zoya, predictably, had screamed into a pillow.
“You kissed? You actually kissed? On the rooftop? God, Sumit Roy is going to lose it when he hears this. He’s been shipping you two since orientation week.”
Anaya had laughed, feeling like her world had turned technicolor.
But with clarity came fear.
Because being together meant more than stolen glances and poetic metaphors.
It meant vulnerability.
It meant being seen.
And worst of all—it meant being able to lose something real.
Segment 2
The days that followed felt like a dream wrapped in reality.
Riaan would wait for her outside the media building. Anaya would bring him his favorite cold coffee from the campus café. They would study side by side at the design block or share headphones during breaks, music threading their moments together.
It was new. It was fragile. And it was theirs.
But reality, like always, wasn’t far behind.
One afternoon, Anaya sat cross-legged in the courtyard, going through interview notes for her internship application. Her phone vibrated with a message from Riaan.
Riaan: Running late. Prof Mehra kept us back for some ridiculous feedback session. Don’t wait—get lunch.
She typed back quickly.
Anaya: All good. I’ll meet you later for the lake walk?
Riaan: Wouldn’t miss it.
Smiling, she slipped her phone into her bag.
A few minutes later, she heard voices approaching from behind the tree shade.
“…Riaan’s been acting weird lately,” said a voice she recognized—Tanya, another architecture student and one of Riaan’s former project partners.
“Yeah,” another voice chimed in, “he bailed on that group gallery setup twice this week. Said he had ‘personal stuff.’ Heard it was some girl from the journalism department.”
Tanya snorted. “Of course. Thought he’d go for someone a bit more… substantial. But whatever.”
Anaya froze.
Their footsteps faded, but the words lingered like cold wind through her ribs.
She knew people gossiped. She knew not everyone would be happy about her and Riaan. But hearing it spelled out like that—dismissively, condescendingly—hurt.
Some girl.
Not substantial.
She shook it off, or tried to. But by the time she reached the lakeside later that evening, the words had wormed into her mind like thorns.
Riaan was already there, skipping stones over the glistening surface.
“Hey,” he said, looking up with a warm smile. “You look tense.”
She hesitated. “Just tired.”
He nodded. “Same.”
They walked a while in silence. The golden sun kissed the lake in long streaks of amber.
Then, Anaya asked casually, “Do you regret bailing on your gallery group?”
Riaan raised an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”
“Nowhere. Just… I overheard Tanya saying you’ve missed a few things. Because of me.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm. “I didn’t miss them because of you. I missed them because I chose to.”
“But people think I’m distracting you.”
“I don’t care what they think.”
“Well, I do,” she snapped before she could stop herself.
He blinked.
She sighed. “Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just… hard, hearing people talk like I’m some fling you’ll outgrow next semester.”
His expression softened. “You’re not a fling. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Anaya folded her arms. “Then why haven’t you told your group? Or your profs? Why do I feel like you’re keeping us hidden?”
Riaan looked away for a moment, the muscles in his jaw shifting.
“It’s not that I’m hiding us,” he said finally. “It’s just… complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“I’ve worked hard to build something here. My spot on the design council, my professor’s trust. And sometimes, people are… quick to draw conclusions.”
Anaya’s voice dropped. “So we’re a liability.”
“No,” he said quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”
But the damage was done.
They stood there, staring at the quiet ripples on the lake, a silence falling between them that no amount of beauty could smooth over.
⸻
The next few days felt… different.
Not colder, exactly—but cautious.
Riaan still met her. Still sent texts. Still shared space with her like always.
But the warmth had been replaced by something more calculated. Like he was stepping carefully now. Watching what he said.
And Anaya? She had gone into retreat mode.
The spark that had lit up her chest when she saw him now flickered with doubt.
⸻
One evening, Zoya found her alone at the campus café, barely touching her iced latte.
“Okay,” she said, plopping down dramatically, “you’ve been wearing that same frown for three days straight. Spill.”
Anaya gave a tired smile. “It’s nothing. Just… complicated.”
“Complicated like ‘he left the cap off the toothpaste’ complicated or ‘he’s avoiding introducing me to his professor squad’ complicated?”
Anaya sighed. “The second one.”
Zoya leaned forward, serious now. “Anaya, you know you’re allowed to expect more, right? You’re not asking for a billboard announcement. Just honesty. If someone wants to keep you on the edge of their world instead of bringing you in, that says something.”
Anaya looked down. “But what if he’s just scared? Like me?”
“Then you both need to stop being scared at the same time. Or it’ll kill this before it even starts.”
⸻
Later that night, Anaya got a call from Riaan.
“Hey,” he said. “You free?”
“Yeah,” she replied, cautiously.
“I was wondering… if you’d want to come with me tomorrow. To the final design review. My installation got shortlisted.”
“That’s… amazing.”
“I thought maybe you could be there.”
Anaya was quiet for a moment. “As what?”
He paused.
Then: “As the person who inspires half of what I create. As someone I want them to see.”
Anaya’s breath caught.
“I’d love to,” she said, voice soft.
⸻
The next day, the gallery was buzzing.
Design faculty, seniors, and student reviewers milled about, observing structures that ranged from sleek towers to conceptual cities made of mirrors and thread.
Anaya walked in beside Riaan, nervous but proud.
When they reached his model—Echoes of Silence, now updated with an additional layer of glass—Professor Mehra turned, smiling.
“This is your guest?” she asked.
Riaan nodded. “This is Anaya. The journalist I told you about.”
Anaya blinked. He told her?
Professor Mehra smiled at her. “So you’re the one who sees the emotion behind the angles.”
Anaya laughed. “I guess so.”
After the showcase, as the lights dimmed and people began clearing the hall, Riaan found her again, pulling her to a quiet corner.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For making you feel like you weren’t part of my world.”
She shook her head. “I was scared too. Of asking for too much.”
“You never were,” he said. “And today, when you stood there beside my model… it felt like everything aligned. Like maybe I don’t have to split my life into compartments anymore.”
Anaya stepped closer. “No walls between worlds?”
“No walls,” he whispered.
And when he kissed her again, surrounded by sketches and stories, it wasn’t uncertain anymore.
It was real.
- Writer
