Anaya didn't realize how much her life had changed until she noticed how natural it felt to wake up knowing that Aarav was somewhere in the same house, not as a distant presence, not as a stranger bound by a contract, but as someone whose existence had quietly become part of her emotional landscape.
That morning, she found him in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, coffee steaming beside him, his expression thoughtful in a way that had become familiar, and for a moment, she simply watched him, absorbing the quiet comfort of the scene before he noticed her.
"You're staring again," he said gently.
"I'm observing," she replied. "There's a difference."
He smiled faintly. "And what are you observing?"
"That this feels… normal," she said softly. "Not contract-normal. Just… life-normal."
He considered her words, then nodded. "I like that kind of normal."
---
Later that afternoon, Anaya sat by the window with her book, though her attention drifted often toward the living room, where Aarav was on a call, his voice calm, his tone professional, and yet when the call ended and he turned toward her, his expression softened in a way that made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
"You're done?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "And suddenly, I don't feel like doing anything else."
She smiled. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is," he admitted. "But also… peaceful."
They sat together, not touching, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the unspoken connection between them growing stronger with every shared moment.
---
That evening, Anaya cooked again, not because she felt obligated, but because she had begun to enjoy the simple act of creating something warm and comforting in a house that no longer felt cold.
"You're spoiling me," Aarav said as they sat down to eat.
"No," she replied. "I'm just feeding myself."
"And I happen to benefit," he said.
She smiled faintly. "Exactly."
---
After dinner, they sat in the living room, the lights dim, the atmosphere calm, and for a while, neither of them spoke, simply existing in the same space, comfortable in a way that felt both new and deeply familiar.
"Do you ever miss being alone?" Anaya asked quietly.
"Yes," Aarav admitted. "But I miss this more when it's not here."
Her heart tightened at his honesty. "That's not fair."
"No," he agreed softly. "But it's true."
---
Later that night, Anaya stood on the balcony, watching the city lights shimmer, her thoughts tangled but calm, when Aarav joined her, standing beside her without a word, his presence grounding.
"I don't feel like leaving this space," he said quietly.
"Then don't," she replied.
He turned to her. "You mean this balcony?"
"No," she said softly. "This… us."
He studied her face, her eyes, her expression, and something in his gaze softened further.
"I don't want to," he said.
She felt her breath catch. "Neither do I."
---
Silence settled again, but this time it wasn't heavy with fear.
It was filled with something gentler.
Something steadier.
Something that felt like belonging.
---
That night, Anaya lay in bed, her heart calm, her mind quiet, realizing that for the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid of staying.
She was afraid of leaving.
---
In his room, Aarav stared at the ceiling, a small, unfamiliar sense of peace settling in his chest, realizing that maybe he didn't need to be untouchable anymore.
Maybe he just needed a place to stay.
---
Because sometimes, love doesn't begin with falling.
It begins with staying.
---