The parking lot was almost empty.
Aakrati walked ahead.
Fast.
Too fast.
Arsh followed.
Not rushing.
But not letting her walk away either.
"Wait."
She didn't stop.
"Aakrati."
That made her pause.
But she didn't turn.
"We'll take my car."
A small silence.
"That's not necessary," she said.
Flat.
Controlled.
"It is."
She turned this time.
Eyes steady.
"I can manage."
Arsh held her gaze.
"I know you can."
A pause.
"But you don't have to."
That—
Wasn't about the ride.
Aakrati looked at him for a second longer.
Then—
Without another word—
Walked toward his car.
Not agreeing.
Not arguing.
Just… choosing not to fight.
They got in.
The door shut.
The outside noise softened.
And the silence inside—
Got louder.
Arsh started the engine.
The car moved.
Rain began falling heavier now, streaking across the windshield, blurring the city lights.
Aakrati sat by the window.
Looking out.
But not really seeing anything.
Because her mind—
Was full.
Of everything she didn't want to think about.
Arsh glanced at her.
Once.
Then again.
And without saying anything—
He changed the track.
A soft melody filled the car.
Her song.
The one she used to sing without hesitation.
Aakrati's fingers curled slightly into her palm.
She didn't react.
Didn't turn.
"Don't wanna sing?" Arsh asked casually.
A pause.
"I don't sing."
He frowned.
"Since when?"
She didn't answer.
That irritated him.
More than it should.
"Are you serious?" he asked.
Still nothing.
Just silence.
The kind that felt intentional.
The kind that pushed him.
Then—
Her phone lit up.
A message.
She picked it up.
Read it.
Typed.
Simple.
Calm.
Arsh noticed.
Of course he did.
His jaw tightened.
"What's wrong?" he asked suddenly.
She turned slightly.
"What?"
"Why are you like this with me?"
Her brows furrowed.
"What does that even mean?"
"I mean," he said, his voice sharper now, "why are you so normal with everyone else—"
A pause.
"—and like this with me?"
Aakrati looked at him.
Annoyed now.
"Because others don't confuse me."
That hit.
Hard.
Arsh exhaled sharply.
"I'm telling you clearly," he said, gripping the steering wheel tighter, "there is nothing between Sakshi and me."
Silence.
"I like you."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
"Don't you get it?"
Aakrati stared at him.
And something inside her snapped.
"How can you talk to me like that?" she said, her voice rising.
"Like what?" he shot back.
"Like I owe you something!" she snapped. "Like I'm supposed to just accept whatever you say!"
The car stopped.
Suddenly.
Rain poured harder now.
Loud.
Relentless.
Before he could say anything—
She opened the door.
And stepped out.
Straight into the rain.
Within seconds—
She was drenched.
"Aakrati!" Arsh got out immediately.
Cold rain hit him too.
But he didn't care.
She walked ahead.
Fast.
Breathing uneven.
He grabbed an umbrella—
Opened it—
And went after her.
"Get back in the car."
She didn't stop.
"I said get back—"
"No!" she turned sharply, her voice breaking through the rain. "I don't want to!"
Water dripped from her face.
Her hair stuck to her skin.
"I'm not coming back."
Arsh stepped closer.
Holding the umbrella over her.
"This isn't the way."
"Then what is?" she shot back. "You deciding everything for me?"
She stepped away again.
Back into the rain.
That was it.
Arsh moved forward—
Caught her wrist—
And before she could react—
Lifted her.
Aakrati gasped.
"Arsh! What are you doing? Put me down!"
She struggled.
Pushed against him.
"I said put me down!"
But he didn't.
His grip was firm.
Unmoving.
Rain pouring around them.
"You're not walking away like this," he said, his voice low but steady.
"Let me go!" she insisted.
But it didn't matter.
Because he wasn't letting her go this time.
He carried her back to the car.
Opened the door.
Set her down carefully.
Closed it.
Then got in himself.
Silence.
Heavy breathing.
Rain crashing outside.
Neither of them spoke.
Because now—
It wasn't just about the argument.
It was about everything
They had been avoiding.
And neither of them
Could run from it anymore.
The door slammed.
Louder this time.
Rain roared outside—
But inside the car—
Something louder had taken over.
Aakrati pushed wet hair away from her face, breathing uneven.
Her hands were trembling—
Not from cold.
From anger.
"Don't you ever do that again."
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it was sharp.
Cutting.
Arsh shut his door, jaw tight.
"You were walking off in the middle of nowhere—what did you expect me to do?"
"I expected you to respect what I said!"
"I'm not going to stand there and watch you act like—"
"Like what?" she snapped instantly.
"Irrational."
That word again.
Aakrati let out a bitter laugh.
"Irrational?"
She leaned forward slightly.
"You dragged me back into a car against my will—and I'm irrational?"
Arsh exhaled sharply.
"You're twisting it."
"No," she said, her voice rising now, "you just don't like being wrong."
Silence.
Tense.
"You always do this," she continued, anger spilling now, "you decide something in your head—and then you expect everyone else to just follow it."
"That's not what this is—"
"Then what is this?" she cut in.
A pause.
Heavy.
"You suddenly telling me you like me?" she added, her voice shaking now—not weak, but intense. "Like it's some kind of solution?"
"It is not sudden," Arsh said, his tone firm.
"Oh really?" she shot back. "Then when exactly did this happen? Before or after your ex showed up?"
That hit.
Hard.
Arsh's expression darkened.
"That has nothing to do with this."
"It has everything to do with this!" she snapped.
Her voice cracked slightly—
But she didn't stop.
"I heard you, Arsh!" she said, hitting the dashboard lightly in frustration. "I heard everything!"
Silence.
"You sat there," she continued, her words coming faster now, "talking to her like she still mattered—like she still had a place in your life—and then you come to me like I'm supposed to ignore that?"
"I told her it's over!"
"You told her!" she shouted.
A pause.
"Not me."
That—
Shut him up again.
Aakrati's eyes filled—
But this time—
She didn't hold back the emotion in her voice.
"You didn't think I deserved to know?" she asked, quieter now but more painful. "You didn't think it mattered that I was… there?"
Silence.
"Same restaurant," she said. "Same time."
A pause.
"Listening to everything you said."
The realization hit him fully this time.
His expression changed.
Slightly shaken.
"You heard that?"
Aakrati laughed again.
But it broke halfway.
"Enough to understand everything I needed to."
"No," he said immediately, shaking his head. "You didn't hear everything."
"Does it matter?" she asked. "Because from what I heard—"
A pause.
"I was just… convenient."
That—
Was the breaking point.
"I never said that!" Arsh snapped.
"You didn't have to!"
Silence exploded between them.
Rain.
Breathing.
Unsaid things.
"I'm not her replacement!" Aakrati said, her voice finally breaking through completely. "I'm not someone you get to move on with just because she left!"
Arsh's anger flared now too.
"I never treated you like that!"
"Maybe not intentionally," she shot back. "But that's exactly what it felt like."
A pause.
"And I'm not doing that to myself," she added, her voice dropping now—but firm. "I'm not standing there wondering if I'm enough or just… familiar."
Silence.
Arsh ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"You think I'm with you because you remind me of her?"
Aakrati didn't answer immediately.
That silence—
Was enough.
"Wow," he let out a sharp breath.
"Say something," he demanded.
"What do you want me to say?" she asked tiredly. "That I trust you completely after hearing all that?"
"Yes," he said immediately.
That made her laugh again.
Soft.
Broken.
"That's not how it works."
Silence again.
More fragile now.
"I liked you," she said quietly.
Arsh froze.
A small pause.
"Not just… casually," she added. "Not just because it felt good."
Her voice softened—
But it hurt more.
"I actually liked you."
The past tense—
Didn't go unnoticed.
Arsh's gaze hardened slightly.
"And now?"
Aakrati looked away.
"Now I don't want to."
That—
Was worse.
Because it wasn't anger.
It was a decision.
Final.
The rain outside started slowing.
But inside—
Everything had already poured out.
Aakrati reached for the door again.
This time—
He didn't stop her.
She opened it.
Paused for a second.
Then said—
Without looking at him—
"You don't get to come back into my life and act like nothing broke."
And she stepped out.
Leaving Arsh inside—
With something he wasn't used to feeling.
Not anger.
Not ego.
But the weight of knowing—
He was too late
In saying the right things.