And yet… here I am.
Sneaking out to meet myboyfriendin my own house.
I almost laugh at the word.Boyfriend.Even after four months, it still feels new. Not awkward, just… delicate. Like something I want to cup in both hands and hold carefully, afraid that too much light or too much noise might make it slip away.
He’s already here. Abhimaan’s sitting on the swing in the far corner of the terrace—exactly where I hoped he would be. One leg stretched out, the other propped up lazily. One arm slungover the backrest like it belongs there. His head is tilted back, eyes lost in the night sky like he’s reading constellations only he can see. He looks so at peace, and it makes me happy that he isn’t feeling awkward here, considering how chaotic and loud my family is.
When he hears me, he turns. His face softens instantly, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re late,” he says quietly.
I shrug and walk over, plopping down beside him. “Felt weird sneaking past Rudra Bhaiya’s room. Like I was a fugitive.”
He laughs under his breath. “Considering how protective he is, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“I half expected him to leap out of his room, turn on the hallway light, and glare at me,” I say, grinning. “But I made it. Alive and unscathed.”
“Brave woman,” he says, voice dry but warm.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. The kind that wraps around you like a soft blanket instead of stretching awkwardly between words.
I hug my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. The wind rustles my hair gently, and I let it.
“I’ve always loved this terrace,” I say after a moment. “Especially at night.”
He glances at me. “Why?”
“I came here when I couldn’t sleep,” I reply.
“Why could you not sleep?” He frowns.
I look up at the sky. There are barely any stars tonight. Just a pale haze stretching across the dark. “Sometimes it was exam stress. Sometimes…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes I just felt… lonely. Like everything was too loud inside my head. Nights do that, I guess. You can pretend during the day. Smile. Be fine. But at night, it’s just… you and your thoughts.”
He doesn’t say anything right away. Just shifts slightly closer, the swing creaking beneath us.
“You won’t be alone again,” he says softly. “Even during the nights.”
I feel something in my chest stutter.
It’s such a simple sentence. No grand gesture. No dramatic tone. Just… said like a fact. Like a promise he’s quietly making without expecting anything in return.
And suddenly, it feels like something shifts in the air. Or maybe inside me.
I look at him—really look. The gentle set of his mouth, the way his fingers rest on his knee, still and steady. The calm he carries even when he’s clearly holding so much inside.
He doesn’t even know, does he?
That he’s already done it. He’s already made me feel less alone.
I don’t think so. I just turn slightly, heart thudding harder than it should for how still everything is.
“Abhimaan…” I whisper.
He looks at me again, brows lifted just slightly. Curious. Patient.
“I love you.”
There.
