The wind hit colder that evening even though the rain had stopped. It was the kind of cold that slipped under your clothes. Aarohi tightened her scarf around her neck as she stepped onto the bus her fingers numb from gripping the metal pole at the stop.
The bus was half-empty which was typical for midweek nights. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, and the smell of damp shoes lingered . She brushed a strand of hair out of her face scanning the rows almost instinctively.
He was there.
Back row near the window. Today, he wore a light grey hoodie, the fabric soft and loose, sleeves pulled halfway over his hands. His head rested lightly against the window but the second she walked in his gaze flicked toward her.
And stayed there.
Aarohi tried to ignore the way her pulse leapt. She walked down the aisle slowly as if debating where to sit. But the truth was she didn’t even glance at the other seats. She slid into the space next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world now.
“Hey,” she said softly, breath clouding slightly in the cold air.
“Hey,” he replied, voice smooth but quieter than usual. His eyes lingered on her for a fraction longer than before.
The bus jerked forward, and Aarohi exhaled trying to calm the little storm inside her chest. The city lights blurred outside the glass, colors bleeding into one another like watercolors left in the rain.
“You look frozen” Arjun said after a moment, his gaze sharp.
“I’m fine” she lied rubbing her hands together.
He didn’t answer. Not with words. Instead, he moved not suddenly, but in a slow, deliberate way like he’d been thinking about it for a while. He tugged at the hem of his hoodie and began pulling it over his head in one easy motion.
“What... what are you doing?” Aarohi asked, wide-eyed as the hoodie came off leaving him in a plain black T-shirt that clung just enough to outline the lean lines of his shoulders.
“Here.” He held it out. “You’re cold.”
Her breath caught. “No, I can’t...”
“You can” he said firmly, tone leaving no room for argument. “Put it on before you turn into an icicle.”
She hesitated, staring at the hoodie like it was something dangerous. It smelled faintly of him very clean, a little sharp, like soap and rain and something warm underneath.
“Aarohi” he said softly, and something in the way he said her name unraveled her resistance. She slipped it over her head, the fabric still warm from his body. It swallowed her whole, the sleeves dangling past her hands.
She tried to laugh. “I look ridiculous.”
“You look…” His words trailed off and when she glanced up, his gaze was fixed on her, dark and unreadable. “…warm” he finished voice dropping slightly.
Her heart thudded against her ribs like a drum. She turned toward the window, hoping the dim light hid the color rising to her cheeks.
For a while, silence stretched between them—not awkward, just thick with something neither of them dared name. The hum of the engine filled the space, the occasional honk of distant traffic slicing through the quiet.
“Arjun” she said suddenly, surprising herself.
He looked at her, brows raised slightly. “Yeah?”
She opened her mouth then closed it. The question burned on her tongue Who keeps texting you? would you smile at me the way you do for her texts? But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead she said “Nothing. Forget it.”
His gaze lingered on her for a long moment. Then he looked away speaking so softly she almost didn’t hear him.
“Sometimes” he said “we don’t ask things because we’re scared of the answer.”
Aarohi’s breath hitched. She turned to look at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. His gaze stayed fixed on the blur of the city outside, jaw tight, hands resting loosely on his knees.
The rest of the ride passed in silence but it wasn’t empty. It was heavy, filled with questions neither of them dared to ask.
When her stop came, she stood slowly the hoodie still wrapped around.
“Keep it” he said before she could speak.
“What? No, I’ll...”
“Tomorrow” he interrupted, finally meeting her eyes. And for a second something raw flickered there. Something that made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t name.
“Tomorrow” she echoed softly, clutching the hoodie like a lifeline as she stepped off the bus into the night.
Behind her through the rain-streaked glass, Arjun watched her go.
And this time, she wasn’t the only one wondering what tomorrow would bring.
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