PART 4: Between Lines and Glances
The next few days passed quietly.
Too quietly.
Aarushi returned to her routines—office, bus stop, home—but something had shifted inside her. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable to anyone else, yet loud within her own chest.
She caught herself checking the time more often in the evenings.
Not because of the bus.
Because of Mira.
She didn’t know when exactly the thought had rooted itself there. It simply existed now, like a soft hum beneath everything else.
---
At work, Aarushi stared at her computer screen, numbers blurring together.
Riya leaned over her desk.
“You’re smiling,” she said.
Aarushi blinked. “Am I?”
Riya raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t, last week.”
Aarushi turned back to the screen, heat creeping into her cheeks.
“It’s nothing.”
Riya didn’t push. But her knowing smile lingered.
---
That evening, the sky stayed clear.
No rain.
Aarushi reached the bus stop early. She stood there, pretending to scroll through her phone, though she wasn’t really reading anything.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Mira appeared.
Not from the usual direction. She came from across the road this time, sketchbook tucked under her arm, hair tied loosely back.
Aarushi’s heart skipped.
Mira spotted her and smiled instantly, like this was exactly where she was meant to be.
“You’re early,” Mira said.
“So are you,” Aarushi replied.
“I wanted to walk,” Mira shrugged. “The weather felt… right.”
They stood close, not touching. Again, that almost-space between them.
“How was your day?” Mira asked.
“Normal,” Aarushi said. Then paused. “But… quieter.”
Mira studied her face.
“Quiet isn’t always bad.”
“No,” Aarushi agreed softly. “But sometimes it makes you think too much.”
Mira smiled faintly. “I think too much too.”
That surprised Aarushi.
“You don’t seem like it.”
Mira let out a quiet laugh.
“That’s because I hide it well.”
---
The bus stop wasn’t crowded yet. A few people stood scattered around, lost in their own worlds.
Mira opened her sketchbook.
“Can I draw you again?” she asked.
Aarushi hesitated.
Something inside her tightened—not fear exactly, but awareness.
“What if I don’t like how I look?” she asked quietly.
Mira’s gaze softened.
“Then I won’t draw how you look. I’ll draw how you feel.”
Aarushi nodded.
Mira’s pencil moved slowly, carefully. Aarushi watched her hands—the way they held the pencil, steady but gentle.
“You know,” Mira said after a moment, “I don’t usually draw people I just met.”
Aarushi’s breath caught.
“Why me, then?”
Mira didn’t look up.
“Because you feel familiar. Like someone I once knew… or maybe someone I was.”
The words settled deep.
---
A bus passed without stopping.
Neither of them noticed.
Aarushi suddenly realized something that made her chest tighten.
“Mira,” she said softly, “what are we doing?”
Mira looked up.
Not confused. Not defensive.
Just attentive.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I know I don’t want to rush it.”
Aarushi nodded slowly.
“Me neither.”
There was relief in saying it out loud.
Mira closed her sketchbook and handed her the page.
A simple sketch.
Two figures standing side by side.
Lines close, but not touching.
A pause captured in pencil.
“It’s about space,” Mira said. “The kind that feels safe.”
Aarushi swallowed.
“It feels… accurate.”
---
The bus arrived at last.
As Aarushi stepped forward, she hesitated.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
Mira smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
Aarushi boarded the bus, her heart steady but full.
This wasn’t love.
Not yet.
But it was something honest.
Something careful.
Something that was beginning to matter more than she expected.
And that realization both warmed her…
and scared her.
---
