Aanya's POV
I didn't mean to wait for the message.
I just noticed the time.
10:32 p.m.
That's all.
My phone was face down.
I swear it was.
The notification buzz still made me jump.
Unknown Number:
You survived today.
I smiled.
Just a little.
Me:
Barely.
But yes.
I stretched my legs on the couch. My bag was still on the chair. I hadn't even changed yet. Work had followed me home the way it always did — quietly, stubbornly.
Unknown Number:
That sounds like a story.
Me:
It's not a good one.
Unknown Number:
Those are usually the best kind.
I thought about it.
The meeting.
The client who kept changing their mind.
The operations guy who shut down my suggestion without looking at me.
I didn't type any of that.
Me:
Maybe another day.
Unknown Number:
Okay.
Another day then.
No pressure.
No pushing.
That was becoming a pattern too.
---
Maya noticed before I did.
"You're holding your phone like it's fragile," she said, standing in my doorway.
"I am not," I replied, immediately locking the screen.
She raised an eyebrow. "You smiled."
"I smile," I said defensively.
"At your phone?"
"…Sometimes."
She walked in, sat beside me. "Is this the wrong-number person?"
I didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Maya sighed — not angry, not teasing. Just careful.
"Just don't disappear into it, okay?"
I nodded.
I meant it.
I think.
---
At work the next day, things felt… normal.
Which somehow felt strange now.
I caught myself checking my phone during a loading screen. Then during a coffee break. Then while waiting for the elevator.
Nothing.
Across the floor, Rohan Kapoor stood near the printer.
Same neutral shirt.
Same unreadable face.
Neha leaned in. "He never smiles, right?"
I shrugged. "I've never seen him smile."
"That's sad."
I didn't respond.
The elevator doors opened.
We stepped in together.
Silence.
Again.
I wondered — briefly — if he hated silence or needed it.
Then I wondered why I cared.
---
That night, I texted first.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary before sending it.
Me:
Do you ever get used to routine?
The reply came slower this time.
Unknown Number:
Depends.
Some routines feel like relief.
Some feel like being stuck.
I hugged a cushion to my chest.
Me:
This one feels… calm.
Unknown Number:
Yeah.
Just that.
Yeah.
I smiled anyway.
---
Across the city, Rohan Kapoor sat at the edge of his bed, phone in hand.
Arjun's voice echoed from earlier that day.
"You're different lately, man."
Rohan hadn't replied.
He typed now.
Unknown Number:
If this ever feels like too much,
we can stop.
Three dots appeared on my screen.
Then disappeared.
Then—
Me:
It doesn't.
A pause.
Unknown Number:
Okay.
That word again.
It felt deliberate.
Chosen.
---
I didn't ask his name.
He didn't ask mine.
It felt safer that way.
Like standing on opposite sides of a door, talking through it — close enough to hear breathing, far enough to stay protected.
Before sleeping, I sent one last message.
Me:
Goodnight, stranger.
Unknown Number:
Goodnight.
I placed my phone on the table.
Didn't check it again.
Didn't need to.
---