Radhika's POV:

I couldn’t help but think back to those day , where  he had made me feel like the most important person in the world. How had we gone from that to this—awkward silences, forced smiles.

As we walked back to the office, the heaviness of the conversation lingered between us.

Samar tried to make small talk, but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to engage.

I could feel his eyes on me, like he was searching for something—maybe a sign that I was okay, that I wasn’t still reeling from the past.

When we finally made it back to our desks, I buried myself in work, trying to focus on anything other than the man sitting just a few feet away.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the memories, the way his words still echoed in my mind, the way his presence seemed to pull me in despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length.

The hours ticked by slowly, each one feeling like a battle against my own emotions. By the time the workday ended, I was mentally and emotionally drained.

As we headed home, Samar seemed to sense my exhaustion. He didn’t push for conversation, just offered me a small smile as we rode back on his bike.

The warmth of his body, the closeness of the ride, was almost too much to bear, but I forced myself to keep my emotions in check.

Once we were back at the flat, I went straight to the room, desperate for a moment to myself.

I splashed some cold water on my face, trying to calm the turmoil inside. When I emerged, Samar was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge.

“What do you feel like eating tonight?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I paused, caught off guard by the normalcy of the question. “I’m not really sure,” I replied. “Maybe something simple? I’m too tired to think.”

He nodded, seemingly understanding. “How about a quick pasta? It’s easy and won’t take long.”

“That sounds good,” I agreed, leaning against the kitchen counter. I watched as he moved around the kitchen with ease, pulling out ingredients and setting a pot of water to boil.

It felt strange, this domestic scene, like we were playing house in some twisted version of reality.

Samar looked up at me, his expression softer now. “You can relax; I’ll handle the cooking.”

I hesitated, unsure of what to do with myself. “Are you sure? I can help…”

“Radhika, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You’ve had a long day. Just sit down and let me take care of it.”

I gave in, sinking into a chair at the small dining table. As he worked, I couldn’t help but watch him, the way his hands moved with practiced ease, the way he hummed softly under his breath.

It was moments like this that made it so hard to keep my distance, to remember that things between us weren’t the same anymore.

Eventually, the smell of pasta filled the air, and Aarav set two plates on the table. “Dinner’s ready,” he announced with a smile.

I took a bite, surprised at how good it tasted. “This is really good, Samar. You’ve gotten better at cooking.”

He chuckled. “I had to, living on my own. You learn a thing or two when you’re forced to fend for yourself.”

I nodded, the conversation turning lighter as we ate. For a moment, it almost felt like old times—like we were just two friends sharing a meal, laughing and talking about nothing in particular.

But underneath it all, I could still feel the tension, the unresolved issues that neither of us wanted to confront.

After dinner, Samar started clearing the dishes, and I joined him, determined to at least help with the cleanup.

As we worked side by side, our hands occasionally brushed, sending little sparks of electricity through me.

I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the task at hand, but it was impossible to completely shut off the emotions swirling inside me.

When the kitchen was finally clean, Aarav turned to me, a soft smile on his lips. “Thanks for helping out.”

“Of course,” I replied, my voice quiet. “I couldn’t let you do everything.”

He nodded, and for a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other, the silence stretching out between us.

There was so much I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to ask, but the words got stuck in my throat.

Finally, Samar broke the silence. “Radhika… I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed… this. Us.”

His words hung in the air, he missed me? He missed us?. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Yeah,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say anything more.

We both knew it wasn’t that simple. The past was still there, between us, and no matter how much we tried to ignore it, it wasn’t going away. But for now, we could pretend—just for a little while—that things were okay, that we were okay.

As I headed to the room that night.
The day had already been emotionally draining, and I needed to clear my head. I opened my laptop, intending to get some work done, but my thoughts were all over the place.

I managed to respond to a few emails, but soon enough, I found myself distracted. The pull of the book I’d started reading last night was too strong to resist.

I grabbed it from my nightstand and settled onto my bed, hoping to lose myself in its pages.

The story was captivating, and for a while, I was able to push thoughts of Samar to the back of my mind.

But as the hours passed, the sky outside began to darken, and the low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. I glanced up from my book, noticing the change in the weather. A storm was rolling in, and with it, a familiar sense of nostalgia.

Setting the book aside, I walked over to the window. The first raindrops were just beginning to fall, dotting the glass with tiny, silvery beads.

pushed the window open, letting the cool breeze wash over me as I climbed onto the window platform. The stormy sky was a deep, swirling gray, and the rain began to pick up, falling in heavy sheets.

As I watched the storm unfold, memories of another rainy day flooded my mind.

It had been a rainy day, the kind of day that made you want to curl up with a book and a cup of hot chocolate. Samar and I had been sitting on the stairs, watching the rain pour down in sheets.

We had been talking about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other’s company, when he suddenly turned to me,

"You know, Radhika, I think you’re the only person in the world who could make a rainy day feel like sunshine," he had said, his voice warm and teasing.

I laughed, swatting his arm playfully. "Oh aachaa ji You’re the one who’s always making me laugh, even when I’m feeling down."

He had grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, I guess we’re just good for each other, then."

We had spent the rest of the day laughing, talking, and just being together.

A pang of longing tugged at my heart as I remembered how easy things used to be between us.

How had everything gone so wrong? The rain drummed steadily against the windowpane, and I let myself get lost in the rhythm, wishing I could go back to those simpler times.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I almost didn’t hear the knock on my door. Startled, I turned to see Samar standing there, holding a cup in his hand.

“I made you some hot chocolate,” he said softly, holding out the cup with a small smile.

I hesitated for a moment, then took the cup from him, the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into my cold fingers.

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking a small sip. The rich, velvety taste instantly brought a sense of comfort.

Samar didn’t leave right away. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, looking out at the storm with me.

For a while, we just stood there in silence, listening to the rain.

It was a strange, almost surreal moment—peaceful, yet tinged with the weight of everything unspoken between us.

The wind outside picked up, sending a chill through the room. I started rubbing my arms, trying to warm myself up.

Samar noticed and, without a word, walked over to the couch. He returned with a thin blanket and draped it over my shoulders.

“Good night, Radhika,” he said, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that made my chest ache.

“Good night,” I replied, watching as he left the room.

As I settled back into the window platform, wrapped in the blanket, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions.

The warmth of the hot chocolate, the comfort of the blanket, and the storm raging outside—it all felt like a fleeting moment of peace in the midst of the chaos of our past.

But I knew better than to let myself hope. The past couldn’t be undone with a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket, no matter how much I wished it could.

****************************

Update guyss!!

Hope you liked the chapter. Do tell me thoughts. ❤😭