Chapter 8 – Almost, But Not Yet
The days that followed were a blur of near-confessions and quiet acknowledgments. Mehar and Aarav were no longer just classmates. They weren't officially dating either. But something invisible and undeniable had begun threading them together.
It wasn't about grand declarations. It was the way Aarav waited for Mehar after class, how he saved a seat for her at the back of the library without ever saying a word. It was the way she shared her notes with him even when he didn't ask. The way their laughter came a little easier, how their silences were less awkward now.
Still, nothing had been said out loud. There was a mutual awareness—but no definition.
One afternoon, as they sat on the rooftop terrace of their school building, a spot few students even knew about, Aarav finally asked, "Are you scared?"
Mehar looked at him, startled. "Of what?"
"Of this. Whatever this is becoming."
She didn't answer right away. The breeze rustled her hair, and she looked out toward the city skyline.
"I'm scared of getting attached," she admitted. "Of it ending before it even begins."
Aarav nodded. "I get that."
She turned to him. "What are you scared of?"
He took a breath. "I'm scared of liking you more than you like me."
There was a pause—gentle and heavy.
Then she said softly, "What if we're both scared of the same thing?"
Their eyes met. And that was the closest they had come to an answer.
—
Back in class, Mehar found herself distracted. Everything felt different. The textbooks seemed dull, the classroom too quiet. Her mind was busy replaying every interaction—his smile, the way his hand brushed against hers, the way he had waited for her answer without rushing her.
Later that week, they were paired up for a school event. Organizing it meant hours of planning, lists, rehearsals—and more time together.
One evening, sitting on the auditorium steps after rehearsal, Aarav looked at her and said, "I know you're waiting for a perfect moment to define us. But what if the perfect moment never comes?"
Mehar looked down at her hands. "Then maybe we keep walking toward it anyway."
He smiled. "Almost there, huh?"
"Almost," she whispered.
Their fingers brushed—but didn't hold. Their eyes met—but no kiss followed.
Almost.
But not yet.
And somehow, that was enough—for now.