The rain had finally stopped leaving the city rinsed and shining. The roads gleamed with leftover puddles.
Aarohi stood near the bus stop tugging her scarf tighter against the evening chill. She wasn’t sure if it was the cold making her restless or the thought that maybe he wouldn’t be there today.
Her heart had done this dance every day for the past week. Waiting. Hoping. Pretending she wasn’t.
The bus arrived with its usual groan brakes hissing as the doors folded open. She climbed in the familiar scent of rain-damp seats and faint engine oil filling her nose. People shuffled forward looking for empty spots and Aarohi’s eyes scanned instinctively fast, almost greedy.
There.
Same place as yesterday.
Third seat from the back.
Charcoal gray hoodie this time sleeves pushed up halfway to his forearms. He sat angled slightly toward the window, earphones in, head resting against the glass. But when her gaze lingered, his head turned as if he had been waiting too.
For a moment their eyes met. Just one small second. But her stomach flipped like she’d missed a step on a staircase.
Aarohi swallowed hard and forced her legs to move her tote bag weighing heavier than usual. She slid into the empty seat beside him without asking. She didn’t need to anymore.
“You’re late today” he said, pulling out one earbud. His voice was steady yet deep but with an easy warmth it sent a strange thrill through her chest.
“Traffic” she replied brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “What’s your excuse?”
He tilted his head pretending to think. “Maybe…” His eyes gleamed just slightly, mischief in the corners. “…I was hoping you’d show up.”
Her breath stalled. The words were light maybe teasing but the weight of them stayed. She laughed softly trying to shake off the heat crawling up her neck. “Smooth line, Arjun.”
“Wasn’t a line,” he said simply.
They slipped into conversation easily like two people who had finally stopped pretending they were strangers. The topics came in bursts from work frustrations to random memes or even the weird smell of the bus seats. Aarohi found herself laughing more than she had all week.
When he asked about her job she talked with her hands, explaining the madness of design clients. He listened like every word mattered his eyes fixed on her face.
“What about you?” she asked tilting her head.
“Copywriting,” he said, lips curving in that half-smile she was beginning to notice too much. “Basically, I make toothpaste sound like life changing magic.”
She giggled. “Wow. So all those catchy ads are your fault?”
“Not all,” he said dryly. “Just the ones you hate.”
The banter flowed easy as rainwater down glass. And yet underneath the words something unspoken hummed.
At one point the bus jolted hard and Aarohi’s shoulder brushed against his arm. Just a small touch. Barely there. But it sent a ripple through her like an electric current. She froze waiting for him to shift away.
He didn’t.
Neither did she.
Instead the silence that followed was different. Not awkward. Not empty. Just charged.
She stole a glance at him. His face was closer now lit faintly by the yellow overhead lights. Strong jawline softened by the curve of his mouth. A faint shadow of stubble that hadn’t been there in school. His lashes were longer than she remembered, how had she never noticed that?
And then his eyes flicked toward her catching her in the act. Heat shot up her cheeks. Aarohi looked away, pretending to fix her bag strap, heart drumming like a wild thing.
Outside the city lights stretched into streaks of gold and white as the bus rumbled forward. A song drifted faintly from his earphones something soft and low like background music to this moment.
She didn’t want her stop to come. Not yet.
But it did. It always did, far too soon.
Reluctantly Aarohi stood fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. “See you tomorrow?” she asked before she could stop herself. Her voice came out softer than she intended.
His answer was quick. Certain. “Always.”
The doors hissed open. She stepped down onto the pavement the cool night air curling against her skin. But something made her glance back.
And there he was. Watching her. Not distracted. Not pretending. Just… watching. Like he was memorizing the way she looked when she said goodbye.
Aarohi’s heart stumbled.
And then the doors closed, and the bus pulled away, carrying him into the blur of city lights.
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