Whispers Between Us

Chapter 11 – A Hidden Glimpse

The city was unusually quiet that morning. A soft haze lingered over the streets, blurring the edges of everything. Kavya walked her usual path to the café, clutching her notebook, lost in thoughts that all circled back to the same point—him.

Aryan.

He had slowly become a part of her days, a presence both comforting and mysterious. He didn’t say much, but his silences were never empty. They were full—of things unsaid, feelings she could almost touch but never name.

When she entered the café, the sound of the door chime broke her reverie. Her eyes instinctively searched for him.

But today, he wasn’t in his usual seat.

Disappointment flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a sigh. Maybe he was just late. Maybe he wasn’t coming.

She ordered her coffee and settled near the window, pretending to sketch, though her pencil barely moved. Her mind refused to focus.

Then, a voice broke through the murmur of the café.

It was his.

She looked up—and froze.

Aryan stood near the counter, not alone. A young boy clung to his hand—a small child with curious eyes and the same serious expression Aryan often wore. The boy tugged at Aryan’s sleeve, asking something that made Aryan’s lips twitch into the faintest smile.

It wasn’t the polite, practiced smile she’d seen before. It was genuine—soft, full of warmth.

And in that moment, she saw something new.

The way Aryan bent down to fix the boy’s collar, the patience in his gestures, the quiet tenderness in his gaze—it was a side of him she had never imagined.

Kavya’s heart stilled.

He looked… human. Gentle. Real.

Her eyes followed him as he guided the boy to a corner seat, helping him with a muffin, listening to him chatter about something that clearly didn’t make much sense. And yet, Aryan listened like it mattered.

When their eyes finally met across the room, Aryan froze too. For a brief second, something unreadable crossed his face—surprise, maybe even vulnerability. He wasn’t used to being seen like this.

He walked over after settling the boy with a glass of milk.

“You’re early,” he said, voice calm but quieter than usual.

“So are you,” she replied, her smile knowing. “Or… maybe you’re not alone today?”

He hesitated, then looked toward the boy. “That’s my nephew. My sister’s kid. I watch him sometimes.”

Her heart softened instantly. “He’s adorable. He looks up to you.”

Aryan’s lips curved faintly. “He shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer, just looked away. The silence that followed wasn’t cold—it was protective, heavy with things he didn’t want to reveal.

But Kavya saw it. The way he straightened when the boy called out his name again, the way his eyes warmed for a fleeting second before the mask slipped back into place.

For the first time, she realized that his distance wasn’t arrogance—it was armor.

She wanted to ask more, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply said, “He’s lucky to have you.”

Aryan’s gaze returned to hers, steady and searching. “You always say things like you mean them.”

“Because I do.”

Something in his expression softened. He looked at her for a long moment before exhaling quietly. “It’s not always easy to mean what you say.”

“Maybe not,” she murmured, “but it’s harder to keep pretending.”

He looked away first, as he always did when words hit too close. But even as he turned, she saw it—the smallest c***k in his calm, a flicker of emotion that told her she wasn’t imagining the connection between them.

They spent the next hour talking lightly while the boy played nearby. Aryan told her small things—fragments of his past, how he used to come to this café as a student, how life had slowly turned quieter.

For every sentence he gave, she offered warmth, never pushing, never demanding more than he was ready to give.

When the boy spilled his milk, Aryan moved instantly, kneeling to clean it up, voice low but kind. Kavya helped, handing him tissues, their fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent a current through both of them—brief but undeniable.

As he straightened, she saw it again—that hidden gentleness beneath his reserved exterior. The way he smiled at the boy, the way he thanked her softly without meeting her eyes.

Later, as they left the café together, Aryan holding the child’s hand, Kavya walked beside them for a few steps. The street was lined with golden light, the kind that made even the simplest moments feel important.

At the crossing, Aryan paused. “Thank you. For… not asking too much.”

Kavya smiled. “You don’t have to hide who you are, Aryan. Not all sides of us are meant to stay hidden.”

He looked at her then, really looked. The air between them thickened—something fragile, real, on the verge of confession.

But the signal turned green, and the moment passed.

“Take care, Kavya,” he said quietly.

“You too,” she replied, watching as he walked away, the boy’s small hand still in his.

She stood there long after they disappeared around the corner. A strange ache bloomed in her chest—gentle but deep.

Because now she knew—

Behind Aryan’s walls was someone worth knowing.

And maybe, just maybe, she was the only one who had been allowed to see him.