Some things are too broken for sorry to fix.And sometimes, the worst kind of silence is the one that was supposed to be a sentence.
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The day after his birthday, nothing changed on the surface.
Same class.Same seats.Same space between them — close enough to hear each other breathe, far enough to pretend they didn't.
But inside?
Everything was shifting.
Aditi couldn't stop thinking about the last time they really talked.Not the cold glares.Not the group chats.The real them — when his voice made her feel safe instead of hollow.
She remembered the night she found out he didn't defend her.Didn't stop the teasing.Didn't post anything, didn't message, didn't do anything when people twisted her diary into a joke.
And worst of all?
He never apologized.
That's what hurt the most.
Not the betrayal.Not the embarrassment.But the silence that followed.
No "I'm sorry."No "I didn't know."No "You didn't deserve that."
Just... distance.
And Abhimanyu?
He thought about it every single day.
I should've said something.I should've protected her.I should've been better.
But every time he looked at her now, she seemed too unreachable — like a closed book with the lock thrown away.
He'd waited too long.And now his sorry was stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat.
So he did what he always did lately — nothing.
Until that day.
Until Reet dropped her pen.And it rolled under Aditi's bench.
Abhimanyu bent down to pick it up.Their fingers brushed — accidentally — and her eyes flicked up at his.
For the first time in weeks, their eyes met and didn't look away.
Not instantly.Not fearfully.
Just long enough for him to see something real behind hers.Something soft.Something… tired.
And that's when he whispered it.Not loudly. Not clearly.But enough that only she could hear it.
"I'm sorry."
That was it.
No context.No explanation.Just the apology he should've given weeks ago — late, quiet, trembling.
And Aditi?
She didn't reply.
But her fingers curled tighter around her notebook.And her eyes shimmered in a way that looked an awful lot like relief…and pain.
Sometimes, sorry doesn't fix things.But sometimes… it's the first step.