Chapter 3 – Unspoken Words
767 Words
The rain had cleared by morning, leaving the city bathed in a pale sunlight that filtered between glass towers and crowded streets. Kavya walked quickly, the hem of her scarf brushing against her arm as she made her way to the café. She told herself it was just habit now, part of her routine. But deep down, she knew the truth—she hoped to see him again.
And when she pushed open the café door, her heart did that now-familiar leap.
Aryan was already there.
He sat at the same corner table, coffee cup in hand, posture straight but somehow at ease, as though the place belonged to him. For a second, Kavya almost turned away. What if she was intruding? What if he didn’t want her here? But then his eyes lifted, and though his expression remained calm, there was the faintest flicker of acknowledgment.
“Morning,” she said, offering a hesitant smile.
He nodded. “Morning.”
Something softened in her chest. She ordered her drink and, after a pause, walked toward his table. “Do you mind if I—”
“Not at all.” His voice was low, even, yet there was no hesitation.
She sat across from him, her hands curling around her cup for warmth. The silence stretched again, thick with unspoken things. But this time, Kavya decided she couldn’t let it linger forever.
“So… do you come here often?” she asked lightly, almost teasing herself for choosing such a cliché.
A corner of Aryan’s mouth lifted, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen. “More than I should.”
“Same here.” She tapped her journal. “This place makes me feel… quiet, but in a good way.”
His gaze flickered to the journal, then back to her. “You like writing?”
Kavya nodded. “I don’t know if I’m any good at it, but yes. Thoughts feel safer on paper.”
For a moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes. He swirled his coffee, as though weighing his next words carefully. “Safer… until someone else reads them.”
She blinked, surprised. “Do you speak from experience?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifted to the window, to the street outside where people hurried past. “Some words are better left unspoken,” he said finally.
The weight of the statement lingered between them. Kavya tilted her head, studying him. “And yet… sometimes the things we don’t say are the ones that matter most.”
Their eyes met again, and in that silent collision, they both felt it—that strange pull, as if the other could see past the surface.
Aryan looked away first, but not before she caught a flicker of something raw in his expression. Vulnerability. Pain. She wondered what stories his silence carried.
To ease the heaviness, Kavya smiled gently. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think silence can speak too. Like… right now.”
His brows lifted slightly, curiosity breaking through his usual composure. “And what is it saying?”
Kavya’s cheeks warmed. She hadn’t expected him to ask. “That… maybe two strangers don’t feel so much like strangers anymore.”
A pause. Then Aryan leaned back, regarding her with a depth that made her breath falter. “Maybe.”
It wasn’t a confession, but it was more than she had expected.
They talked a little after that—small things. Kavya told him about her work, how she balanced deadlines with her love for writing. Aryan offered fragments in return—mentions of late nights, long hours, and the weight of expectations that came with his family and career.
He didn’t go into detail, but even those fragments revealed more than he probably intended. Kavya noticed the way his jaw tightened when he spoke of responsibility, the subtle weariness in his eyes when he mentioned trust.
And she realized something. Aryan wasn’t a man of few words by choice alone. He was a man carrying words he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—share.
When the clock above the counter struck noon, Kavya sighed. “I should go. Work won’t wait.”
Aryan gave a small nod, though his gaze lingered on her longer than necessary. “Until next time.”
The words were simple, but Kavya carried them with her like a secret promise. As she stepped back into the bustle of the city, her heart whispered what neither of them had dared to say aloud:
Something had begun.
And no amount of silence could stop it now.
- Writer
