Aarohi didn’t even pretend to hesitate this time. By now, it had become a quiet routine of rushing out of the office, beating the drizzle, and sliding onto the Bus like she was just another tired commuter.
But her pulse still jumped when she saw him.
Not navy today. Olive green. The hoodie looked soft and worn at the cuffs like something he’d owned for years and refused to let go of. It gave him a look that was… just real.
And for the first time Aarohi noticed details she hadn’t let herself notice before. The faint shadow of stubble tracing his jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones softened by the low light, the way his dark hair fell slightly across his forehead like it always tried to escape order.
He was in his usual seat, scrolling lazily on his phone, but his head tilted up when she stepped in. For a second, the overhead light caught the curve of his mouth as it lifted, not a full smile, just enough to feel like a quiet recognition.
Hi," he spoke up before she could. His tone was steady, yet warmer in some way.
"Hey," she sank into the seat next to him, heart performing that stupid skip yet again.
The bus lurched forward with a hiss of tires, rain-smeared windows reflecting glints of neon on the outside. Aarohi shifted her bag on her lap, attempting not to be too conscious of the fact that her leg touched his for an infinitesimal moment.
“What’s today’s soundtrack?” she asked, tilting her head toward his phone.
He looked at her, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Same as yesterday.I’m loyal like that.”
"Or lazy," she joked, raising an eyebrow.
"Or possibly," he replied, reclining an inch, "I just like what I like."
His gaze captured hers for a moment, and something in the firmness of the look made her stomach dip like the road had fallen out from under her.
“What about you?” he asked suddenly. “Do you listen to anything while you work?”
"Sometimes," she replied, pushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "But then I get caught up and end up designing to the beat".
That earned her a quiet chuckle, low and warm. “That actually sounds kind of cool. Your clients might disagree though.”
“Oh, they would,” she said laughing softly. “They already think I’m too… what’s the word? Experimental.”
“I can see that” he said, and there was something in his tone that didn’t sound like criticism at all.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the engine filled the space between them. Outside, the city passed in strips of light, rain-soaked roads shimmering like liquid glass.
“So,” Aarohi said quickly, chasing the quiet before it turned heavy “tell me something about you that’s not boring.”
He smirked faintly his fingers tapping absently against his phone. “Define boring.”
“No corporate lingo and no ‘I like movies and coffee’ nonsense. Something real.”
For a beat, his gaze flicked to hers. Then, without looking away, he said softly “I write.”
She blinked. “Like articles?”
"Stories," he replied, looking back at the window as if the glass were safer than her eyes. "Short ones mostly. Stuff that never sees the light of day."
"Why not?" The words escaped her before she could catch them. He shrugged, the motion slow. "Some things aren't meant for everyone."
The manner in which he said it didn't seem practiced. It seemed like something drawn from a darker source, something heavier than the words themselves.
"Stories about what?" she asked.
“Ones where people don’t say what they really feel,” he said simply.
For a moment, the soft overhead light caught the faint dimple on his left cheek, something she’d never noticed before.
Her heart pounded in her ears. The phrase hung there, charged and heavy, as if he'd shared a secret with her without sharing anything.
Aarohi parted her lips to comment something, anything but the bus lurched forward, and she was grabbing the seat for support. That moment was over before she could think more on it, and when she looked at him once more, his expression was serene. Unreadable. Like he'd never just said anything at all.
Her stop approached too abruptly, as ever. She rose, readjusting the strap of her bag, resenting the tiny ache in her chest at the prospect of leaving.
“Tomorrow?” he asked his tone easy, but his eyes… not easy at all.
She nodded. “Tomorrow.” Her voice came out softer than she intended.
As she stepped into the cool night air, the rain had slowed to a mist, wrapping the street in a faint blur of silver. She walked slowly, her mind looping on two thoughts:
He writes stories.
And what else is he not saying?
Behind her, Arjun watched her through the glass, jaw tight, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His fingers hovered over his phone screen, then dropped into his lap.
Some things aren’t meant for everyone he thought.
But maybe… maybe this one is.
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