The quiet had stretched again.
Aditya's arm was still around her, his other hand resting over her phone now — protective. Still. Waiting.
Jaanvi's breathing had settled.
Until it happened.
Buzz.
Both of them stiffened.
She sat up slowly.
The screen lit up again. Same number.
3:34 AM
Since neither of you wants to talk about it... let me remind you exactly what he said that night.
Jaanvi's fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the phone.
She read it out loud—barely a whisper. "No..."
Aditya leaned closer, reading over her shoulder.
And then another message arrived.
3:34 AM
"This was all a joke to you, wasn't it?"
"You don't even know what you want, Jaanvi."
"One minute you act like you care, the next minute you shut me out like I'm just another loser on your stupid checklist."
Jaanvi's throat tightened.
She remembered.
She'd been sitting outside school, on the curb, after a debate scrimmage that had gone horribly wrong. He had walked up to her, barely looking at her.
And those were the first things he said.
It had felt like being cracked open from the inside.
More messages came. Each one worse.
3:35 AM
"I should've never trusted you."
"You just wanted to win. That's all I ever was — a win."
"I hope you realize one day that being alone is what you deserve."
The air felt thinner.
Jaanvi's lips parted, but no sound came out.
She remembered the way she couldn't speak that day. How she'd just sat there, nodding like she agreed. Because if she opened her mouth, she knew she would've begged him to stay.
Aditya's voice, low and steady, finally broke the silence.
"I said all of that."
She looked at him slowly, her eyes wide and glassy.
"I know," she said.
He was pale, expression unreadable.
"And I meant it," he added, voice quieter now. "In that moment. I was angry. Hurt. But I meant every word."
She flinched.
He wasn't trying to hurt her now. He was just being honest.
Brutally.
"I thought you were playing with me," he said. "And the worst part is... I didn't ask you if any of it was true. I just assumed."
Buzz.
Another message.
3:36 AM
She sat there in silence that night. And you walked away.
That's who you are, Aditya. You leave.
Aditya's hands curled into fists.
Jaanvi reached for the phone, but he stopped her.
"No," he said. "Don't let them rewrite this."
She swallowed hard. "But they're right."
"No," he said again, firmer this time. "They're not."
He took a breath, like it burned.
"I left," he said. "But I never stopped thinking about it. About you. About what I said. And not one day has passed where I haven't hated myself for that last sentence."
She looked at him, barely holding her expression steady.
"I didn't mean it," he whispered. "You don't deserve to be alone."
The next message came quietly.
3:38 AM
But she believed you, didn't she?
Jaanvi blinked hard.
Aditya looked at her again.
"Did you?"
She nodded.
Slow. Quiet.
"I believed everything you said," she admitted. "And for the longest time, I thought I must've done something to deserve it."
Silence again.
Not the kind that hurts.
The kind that holds.
He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Three words.
Too late, maybe.
But not too empty.
She didn't respond.
She just closed her eyes—and leaned into his shoulder again.
This time, not from exhaustion.
This time, because she wanted to be close.
Some words wound deeper than actions.
Some memories don't need reminders.
And some invisible threads fray where the truth finally finds light.
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