As soon as they finished their meal and stepped toward the exit, the entire restaurant suddenly filled with the melody of "Happy Birthday to You."
Arjun instinctively turned to look back, but his gaze froze on the glass door ahead. Inside, bathed in soft blue lights, stood Kavya. Before her was a large blueberry cake with "Happy Birthday Kavya" written across it in elegant script. Her family, friends, and waiters stood around her, clapping and singing in joyful unison.
Arjun's steps halted for a moment. A lump rose in his throat. For the first time in many months, he saw her smiling—that same gentle, radiant smile and unadorned simplicity that had once been his entire world. Yet in that very instant, a faint ache pierced his chest."What if seeing me makes her uncomfortable?
What if my presence ruins this moment for her?"
If any member of her family noticed him, they would surely think he had come deliberately, following her. A wave of embarrassment washed over him, as though he had stumbled upon a celebration to which he had not been invited. Still, the glow on her face held his eyes captive.
He stood there for several long seconds at the restaurant's exit, as if time itself had paused. It was a relief that Kavya had not yet seen him. But just as she cut the first slice of cake and lifted it toward her mother's mouth, her gaze accidentally drifted beyond the glass and collided with his. For one fleeting moment, their eyes met. In that single glance, the entire history of their relationship—the love, the pain, the unspoken words, the unfinished promises—came alive again. The smile on Kavya's face faded instantly.
Arjun quickly looked away, shielding his face with his left hand, and hurried out of the restaurant. Outside, the others were waiting for him.There had once been a time when the world had seemed too small before their love, when life felt so simple that merely holding hands made everything feel right. Now the cracks between them had grown so wide that even the strongest will could not bridge them.
As they left the restaurant, the cold night air seemed to sense the storm raging inside him. There was an eerie stillness in that chill. The city streets had grown quiet and deserted. Arjun and his mother walked home in silence; their house was only a short distance away, tucked inside the lane.
Just moments earlier they had been part of a cheerful gathering, but the mere sight of Kavya had brought the old memories rushing back, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.
"The person the heart had once drawn closest was now the one from whom it felt the greatest distance."
Arjun had barely stopped when his mother paused a few steps ahead. He could sense the silent tears she was trying to hide. Upon reaching home, both headed quietly to their respective rooms.
As Arjun climbed the stairs, he felt the heavy silence was wrong. It would only make his mother worry more about him. He turned back, walked down to her, and asked gently, "Since we left the restaurant, you've become so quiet. Why?"
But before he could say more, his mother turned toward him. In a soft, measured voice that fell heavily on his ears, she asked, "Bittu… are you okay, my son?"
The question and his answer were simple—only three words: "Yes, I'm fine." Yet those words carried the weight of emotions that always accompany an unwanted inquiry.
Arjun lingered near his mother for a while. Only when he was certain that exhaustion from the long day had finally claimed her did he rise quietly and walk with measured steps toward the kitchen.
In the dim light of the kitchen, he filled a glass with water, covered it, and placed it on the stool beside her bed.There was boundless love in this small act. He knew his mother woke two or three times at night to drink water, and he did not want her to have to walk all the way to the kitchen.
Whether his mother had truly fallen asleep or had simply closed her eyes on purpose, Arjun could not tell. Seeing peace settle on her face lightened his heart a little, as though at least one worry from the long day had been lifted.
As he set the glass down, his fingers moved with delicate care, as if he were not placing water beside her, but guarding her sleep itself. With a deep sigh, he gently closed the door of her room so that no sound would disturb the rest he hoped she had found.
He filled another glass for himself and slowly climbed the stairs. After Ranjana had left for her in-laws' house, the silence in the home had grown even deeper—so deep that Arjun could now hear his own breathing. Holding the glass of water, he ascended with a heavy heart. Upstairs, a lonely night awaited him in his room. Yet he was relieved that his mother would not ruin her sleep worrying about him.
He clutched the glass as though, on this nocturnal journey, he was not carrying water but his solitude itself. Leaving his mother sleeping downstairs, he reached his room. Inside him, however, a deep inner conflict continued to rage.
He had fought many battles against visible enemies, but he feared the war that never ceased within his own mind.The moment he closed the door behind him, the silence of the house deepened further. A faint, sweet fragrance of night-blooming jasmine drifted in with the breeze, carrying Arjun several months back in time.
It was the night after returning from the restaurant…The same night that kept both of them awake in their separate homes, yet bound by the same restless unease.
That night, Kavya too remained restless. The joy of her birthday celebration had vanished the instant she had seen Arjun at the restaurant after so many months.She felt he had not truly gone away; he had simply fallen silent. And that silence, she knew, was the most dangerous of all—because its voice refused to let a person sleep through the night.
We often use the excuse of "closure" merely as a pretext—an excuse to step back into someone's life once more. The truth is, the heart does not seek closure. What the heart truly longs for is a second chance. One more time. Just one last time… an opportunity to be with that same person again.
When we do not yearn for love, it knocks uninvited at our door. Yet when we need it the most, it slips away silently on tiptoe.
Why does love play such teasing games?
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