I don't remember how we left that place.
Maybe, I passed out mid sentence.
Maybe, my body finally gave up before my mind did.
All I remember is waking up with the taste of mud still in my mouth.
My clothes were damp, cold against my skin,
And then I felt it...
Mira's hand gripping my sleeve like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go of me...
Everything looked normal.
The school bell rang.
Everything was moving like nothing had happened.
When I asked what went wrong, everyone just said I passed out near the gulmohar tree and Mira brought me inside.
They said that I was exhausted maybe.
I guess she covered up for me if it wasn't a dream.
Days passed after that incident.
Life didn't pause for whatever happened to me.
Classes continued.
Assignments piled up.
People still asked questions and moved on once the answers stopped getting their interest.
And I did too.
At least, on the surface.
Something inside me had changed.
I was more careful with my words now.
More aware of where I stopped and others began.
I learned how to be quiet again
but not like the way it was before.
And Mira.... she stayed.
I don't know what's this feeling but
I feel calmer knowing she is here.
Safe... With me.
---Mira's POV---
I'm glad he is here. With me at least.
Everything's still the same.
School is still loud.
The corridors were just as loud.
People still laughed, complained, lived.
But Vehan. He didn't move through it the same way.
I noticed it in the small gestures.
The way he pauses before answering questions.
The way he no longer plays a role just to be noticed.
He listened more than he spoke- not politely, but deliberately.
And when he smiles now, it's not stitched or fake..
It's rare. But real.
We sit beneath the gulmohar tree during lunch.
The same one.
Where I watched him break quietly for so long.
He doesn't ask why I still stay around him.
He just leans back against the trunk, eyes half-closed, sunlight slipping through red petals onto his his face.
And for a moment, he looks peaceful.
Too peaceful that I just wanted to keep staring at him.
His fingers twitch sometimes... small, unconscious movements, like he's responding to something I can't hear.
His breathing slows when the noise around us gets too loud.
Sometimes, I feel the urge to reach out.
To hug him.
To run my fingers through his hair.
But I don't.
Once, he stopped mid sentence.
His gaze shifted slightly, unfocused.
Then he exhaled and continued, like nothing had happened.
I didn't ask. I didn't need to.
"Some truths don't want to be spoken... They just want to be accepted."
"Why do you keep staring?" he asked suddenly, eyes still closed.
I looked away quickly.
"I'm not."
He paused and smiled.
"Right."
We sat in silence again.
It isn't awkward or heavy.
It feels... serene.
People pass by us talking, laughing, borrowing notebooks, pieces of each other the way they always have.
Vehan doesn't offer himself automatically anymore.
And for the first time, I don't feel the urge to stop him from changing.
I spent so long trying to save people.
Trying to arrive before the damage was done.
Trying to hold broken things together with my hands.
And then I met him.
His presence reminded me too much of my brother and it was haunting.
I wanted to help him for a long time but I always held back.
Until it started interfering his life.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I stepped in not because I had to…
But because I wanted to.
And now while sitting beside him, something settles in my chest—terrifying and relieving at the same time.
I'm not trying to save him anymore.
I'm just… staying.
Vehan opened his eyes and looked at me.
Not searching or apologising. Just looking.
" You could leave, you know," he says lightly.
"You don't have to sit with me every day."
I shrug.
"I know."
"Then why do you?"
The question wasn't suspicious but honest.
I thought about it for a moment.
About the night that changed everything.
About the boy he was.
About the person he became.
About the part of him that creaked softly sometimes when the world pressed too hard.
About how he's still here.
I pull my legs closer and lean back against the tree beside him.
"I don't know," I say.
It isn't a lie.
Then, quieter...
"I just... like being here."
He doesn't reply.
But he doesn't move away either.
And somehow—
that's enough.