The sun rise gently over the city, but inside Sita's home, it felt like a storm had settled in the walls. The fragile calm of the night before dissolved into a silence that tasted like fear.
Ram hadn't slept.
Not even for a minute.
He had held her the whole night, watching every small shift of her breath, every twitch of her fingers, every soft sigh. She slept like someone who had run miles through her own mind and finally collapsed at the edge.
When she opened her eyes, she didn't find the world.
She found him.
Sitting beside her.
Still in the same clothes.
Still watching her like she was the last memory he was allowed to hold.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
Her throat tightened.
Her eyes shimmered in the soft morning light.
"Ram…" Her voice was barely a whisper.
He forced a small smile. "Good morning."
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "Did you… sleep at all?"
"No."
The answer was simple, but the meaning wasn't.
He hadn't slept because he feared losing time.
He hadn't slept because he wanted to remember this feeling — knowing she was still here.
Sita lowered her head. "I'm sorry."
Ram touched her chin gently and raised her face.
"Don't apologize for needing me."
Her eyes filled again, but she swallowed the tears back. She had none to spare now.
---
The Conversation That Hurt More Than the Truth
Sita stood from the bed, walking to the balcony. The jasmine leaves swayed gently, brushing against her fingertips like little goodbyes. Ram followed quietly.
She didn't look at him when she said, "The company wants me there in fifteen days."
Ram blinked. "Fifteen days?"
"Yes."
That number was too small for a dream.
Too big for a goodbye.
She leaned on the railing. "I told them I need time to think."
"You're still thinking?" His voice softened. "Sita… this is everything you've worked for."
She clenched her jaw. "Dreams feel different when the price becomes a person."
Ram stepped behind her, arms sliding gently around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.
"You're not losing me," he whispered.
"But I'm leaving you," she whispered back.
Her voice cracked like thin glass.
He tightened his hold. "Leaving and losing are not the same."
Sita closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his chest steady her shaking breath.
"Ram… I don't know how to be strong there."
"You don't have to be strong every second," he said. "You just have to go."
She turned in his arms and finally looked at him.
"I'm scared," she confessed — fully, openly, painfully.
Ram cupped her cheeks. "So am I."
The admission stunned her.
Ram never said he was scared.
He was sunshine wrapped in confidence.
But today… he was human.
A man afraid of a future that didn't include her shadow beside his.
"I'm scared of waking up and forgetting your voice," he whispered. "Of missing you so much it hurts to breathe. I'm scared of empty rooms and quiet days."
Her throat tightened. She pressed her forehead against his chest.
"Then why are you sending me away?" she asked, voice muffled.
"Because I love you," he said softly. "And love is not a cage."
---
The Day That Became a Goodbye
They spent the morning in silence — the kind that came when words failed, when emotions overflowed more than lips could carry.
Sita made coffee.
Ram sat at the dining table, watching her like he was memorizing each movement.
"Stop staring," she muttered, trying to hide her smile.
"No," he replied simply.
She placed the cup in front of him. He held her wrist and pressed a kiss there.
"Your hands are cold," he murmured.
"Your fault. You didn't let me sleep properly."
He laughed gently.
It warmed the room.
But beneath the laughter, something heavy hid.
There were moments like these scattered through the day — soft, beautiful seconds stitched with the thread of sorrow.
Every time she smiled, there was a shadow behind it.
Every time he touched her, there was hesitation — not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know how many moments were left.
---
The Fight That Had to Happen
By evening, the suppressed pain finally burst.
Sita was packing documents in her file when she suddenly froze.
"What if I don't go?" she said quietly.
Ram looked up sharply. "Sita—"
"I'm serious." Her eyes filled. "If it hurts this much before even leaving, what will happen after? I don't want to break."
Ram placed the file down and walked to her.
His expression wasn't angry — it was wounded.
"Sita, you can't throw away your dream because of fear."
"It's not fear!" she cried, pushing his hands away. "It's you! I can't leave you here and fly away like it doesn't matter!"
"Then I must have loved you badly," he whispered, "if you think I'm something that can be left behind."
She shook her head. "Don't twist my words."
"Then listen," he said, voice firm for the first time, "I won't let you choose me over your dream."
Sita's eyes widened. "Won't let me? Are you even listening to me? My dream includes you. My future includes you. Everything includes you."
"And it will continue to," he said, "after you come back."
She started crying again — this time not from fear, but from exhaustion, frustration, the ache of having two hearts inside one body.
"Ram… please," she begged, gripping his shirt. "Don't force me to go."
He held her wrists gently and lowered them.
"I'm not forcing you," he whispered. "I'm reminding you of who you are."
She broke. Completely.
Her legs gave up.
Ram caught her before she fell.
She buried her face in his chest, crying as though the entire world was slipping through her fingers.
"I don't want these fifteen days," she sobbed. "I want fifteen years with you."
He closed his eyes tightly, as if the pain of her words pressed against his bones.
"You'll have a lifetime," he promised. "Just… go chase the part of life that belongs to you, not us."
---
The Promise
Night settled again, softer this time. The sky looked blurry — half from clouds, half from the heaviness in their hearts.
Sita sat on the rooftop, hugging her knees, staring at the stars.
Ram joined her quietly.
She didn't look at him.
She didn't need to.
"I'll come back, right?" she whispered.
"You will."
"Will you wait?"
Ram didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out a small chain — the gift he hadn't gotten to give.
A tiny silver feather pendant.
"For what?" she asked softly.
He hooked it around her neck.
"For your wings," he murmured. "So you won't forget you were born to fly."
Sita touched it gently. "And you?"
He intertwined his fingers with hers.
"I'll be here," he said. "Not waiting like a man left behind… but standing like someone proud of the woman he loves."
She leaned into him.
"Ram… I don't deserve you."
"You do," he whispered. "More than you think."
The night wrapped around them, quiet and tender.
For the first time that day, their hearts found a moment of peace.
And in that fragile silence, they made a promise neither said aloud but both felt deeply—
Love would bend.
Love would bleed.
Love would stretch across oceans.
But it would not break.