The evening was quieter than usual a pale orange sunset melting into the horizon as Aarohi walked toward the bus stop. The air was heavy with the smell of wet earth, fresh after a brief drizzle. She clutched her tote bag a little tighter than necessary, telling herself she wasn’t in a hurry.
She was lying to herself and she knew it.
The bus pulled in its brakes hissing softly, and she climbed on. Her eyes didn’t need to search anymore. She knew where to look.
And there he was. Third seat from the back. Again.
Today he wore a light gray hoodie the fabric soft and slightly crumpled like he’d been in it for hours. His hair fell a little messier than yesterday, a lock brushing his forehead. His head was bent with phone in hand, the faint glow highlighting the sharp line of his jaw.
Her chest tightened, stupidly, at the sight of him. How was this becoming a part of her day already?
There was space next to him again. Always, as if it was waiting for her. Aarohi slid into the seat quietly. He glanced up the moment she sat, and the way his eyes lit like he’d been expecting this onlly sent a rush of warmth through her veins.
“You made it” he said, a hint of that calm smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah,” she replied tucking her scarf as if that would hide the stupid grin threatening to show up on her own face. “Wouldn’t miss the most exciting part of my day.”
He chuckled. “Flattery works on me you know.”
She laughed softly and for a few moments they rode in a comfortable silence, the hum of the bus and the city outside wrapping around them. Aarohi glanced sideways when she thought he wasn’t looking.
The gray suited him. Made him look softer somehow. The hard lines of his face from yesterday seemed gentler now.
He broke the silence first. “So, tell me do graphic designers ever hate fonts as much as writers do?”
She grinned. “Absolutely. Comic Sans is a crime.”
He laughed and it was the kind of laugh that loosened something tight inside her chest. They slipped into another easy conversation about fonts, ad campaigns, the weirdest requests clients had ever made. She loved how he listened and really listened, leaning in slightly like her words deserved space in the noise of everything else.
The bus jolted over a pothole pulling them an inch closer. Aarohi felt the warmth of his shoulder brush hers and didn’t move away. Neither did he.
She was about to say something when his phone buzzed in his hand. A quick vibration followed by the faint glow of a notification.
She didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes flicked down for the briefest second. A name lit up the screen just a first name she didn’t recognize and then disappeared as he unlocked the phone with his thumb.
And then he smiled. Not the polite kind or the casual one he gave her when they talked. This one was softer and smaller, like something private bloomed behind his eyes.
Aarohi looked away so quickly her neck almost hurt. Her fingers gripped her tote bag tighter.
It shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t her business anyway. They were just two people who happened to share a seat on a bus. That was all.
So why did her chest feel like someone had reached in and twisted something in there.
she stared out of the window forcing herself to stay composed and trying to convince herself it's not that big of a deal.
But her ears still picked up the faint sound of him typing a reply.
“Hey” his voice came breaking through her spiraling thoughts. “You okay?”
She turned plastering on a smile. “Yeah. Just… long day.”
He studied her for a second longer than necessary like he could tell she wasn’t saying everything. But then he nodded and didn’t push.
They spent the rest of the ride talkig about some mundane stuff but omething felt different. Or maybe it was just her and the way that one smile kept looping in her head.
Her stop came and this time she almost wished it wouldn’t. Standing up she forced her voice steady. “See you tomorrow?”
His eyes met hers. The smallest pause. And then “You will.”
As she stepped off the bus into the evening glow Aarohi told herself not to think about the phone. The name. The smile.
But she did. All the way home.
And when she lay in bed later staring at the ceiling the question she hated the most was the only one that stayed.
Who was she?
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