Finding a place to practice turned out to be harder than expected.
Aria stood in her best friend's house, surrounded by half-packed suitcases, scattered cushions, and relatives talking over one another. Someone laughed loudly in the next room. Someone else argued over sleeping arrangements.
There was no space.
Not even silence.
She sighed and stepped outside, pulling out her phone.
Almost on cue, it rang.
Arav.
"Did you find a place?" he asked.
She looked back at the chaos through the open door.
"No," she admitted. "It's too crowded."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"My house has space," he said. "It's quiet. We can practice properly."
Aria froze.
His house.
The idea made her uncomfortable—not because of him, but because it felt like crossing an invisible line.
"I don't really have another option," she said slowly.
"You don't have to feel awkward," Arav replied. "It's just practice."
Just practice.
She agreed.
The next afternoon, a car stopped outside her house.
Arav stepped out, leaning casually against the door. When he saw her, he straightened immediately.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded, gripping her bag a little tighter than necessary.
The car ride was quiet. Not the uncomfortable kind—just… calm. Music played softly in the background. No arguments. No comments.
For the first time since they met, Aria didn't feel the need to defend herself.
His house was simple and open, with enough space to move freely. Sunlight poured in through wide windows.
"This should work," Arav said.
Aria looked around and nodded.
Yes. It would.
As the music began, something felt different.
Not perfect.
Not easy.
But possible.
And sometimes, that was enough.
If you want, next we'll write.Chapter 6: Silence Between Us
The car rides became routine.
Every afternoon, Arav waited outside her house.
Every afternoon, Aria got in without hesitation.
They didn't talk much.
The radio stayed low, filling the space with half-familiar songs. The city passed by outside the window, blurred and distant
Aria watched his hands on the steering wheel—steady, focused.
Arav noticed how she always looked out of the window when thinking.
No arguments.
No explanations.
Just silence.
And somehow, it wasn't uncomfortable.
One day, he slowed the car near a speed breaker.
"Seatbelt," he said gently.
She blinked, surprised, then smiled faintly as she fastened it.
"Thanks."
That was all.
But later, as Aria stepped out of the car, she realized something—
Silence didn't always mean distance.
Sometimes, it meant understand