It started with a wave.
Just a small lift of the hand, a nod across the gap. Every evening after that noisy first exchange, Ruhan would be there—sometimes with his guitar, sometimes just sipping coffee from a cracked mug that said "Might Be Magic".
And Aanya? She began looking forward to it.
At first, they spoke in fragments. Comments about the weather. Jokes about noisy crows. Sarcastic remarks about how boring Velunia's skyline was.
Then one day, he asked, "What are you always sketching?"
Aanya blinked, caught mid-stroke. "Nothing important."
"Is that what you say about all your art?"
She paused. "No. Just the ones I'm unsure of."
He leaned over the railing like he was trying to get a better view. "Can I see?"
She instinctively hugged the sketchbook closer. "No."
He smiled, soft and unbothered. "Fair. But I bet it's beautiful. You have sketch-face."
She raised an eyebrow. "Sketch-face?"
"You know. That faraway look. Like you're seeing something no one else can."
Aanya didn't reply. But her ears turned just slightly pink.
The next day, it was her who spoke first.
"You always wear headphones," she said.
He looked up. "I record stuff. Songs. Voice notes. Bad ideas I'll never show anyone."
"Why not?"
"Because then they won't be mine anymore."
Aanya thought about that for a second. "You ever show anything to someone?"
Ruhan hesitated. "Used to. A long time ago."
She didn't push further. He didn't offer more.
But a silence fell between them—not awkward, not empty. Just... quiet. The kind of quiet that happens when two people are comfortable not filling the air.
A week passed like that.
Coffee. Talks. Silences. Glances that lasted a little too long.
One evening, it rained in Velunia. Not the wild thunderstorm kind—just a steady drizzle, like the sky was humming to itself.
Aanya stepped out with a cup in hand, watching the water kiss the leaves.
Across the way, Ruhan stepped out too.
They didn't say anything for a while.
Then he held up his phone. "Want to hear something?"
She looked unsure. "Now?"
He nodded. "Don't worry, no drum solos this time."
She smiled and nodded.
He played something soft. His voice. A guitar in the background. The song wasn't perfect, but it felt... warm. Real.
She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes.
When it ended, she didn't say anything.
He didn't either.
Because sometimes, little talks don't need words at all.