While Aakrati's days moved forward in their own rhythm, far away in another part of the world Arsh's life looked completely different.
His days had turned into an endless cycle of meetings, documents, calls, and decisions. From morning until late at night he was surrounded by people, work discussions, and responsibilities that demanded his full attention.
To everyone around him, Arsh looked exactly the same as always.
Calm.
Focused.
Sharp.
Someone who always knew what he was doing.
But when the day ended and he returned to his apartment, that carefully controlled version of himself slowly faded.
Because inside that apartment, there was a room that looked nothing like the life he showed outside.
It was his private space.
And the moment the door opened, the first thing anyone noticed was the walls.
They were filled with photographs.
Photographs of Aakrati.
Some were pictures from the trip.
Some were screenshots from video calls.
Some were random candid moments he had captured without her noticing.
Her laughing.
Her arguing.
Her making weird faces.
Her looking at the sea during sunset.
Arsh stood quietly in the middle of the room, loosening the tie around his neck after another long day.
For a moment he just looked at the pictures.
Then he walked toward one of them slowly.
It was a photo of her sitting on the beach, wearing the tiara he had bought for her.
She had been laughing at something he said.
He touched the corner of the frame lightly.
"You talk too much," he murmured quietly, almost as if she could hear him.
Behind him the door opened suddenly.
"Arsh, the meeting tomorrow—"
Siddhartha stopped mid-sentence.
His eyes slowly moved around the room.
Then widened.
"Whoa."
Arsh didn't turn around immediately.
Siddhartha stepped inside, still staring at the walls.
"Who is she?"
Arsh finally glanced at him.
"Your future sister-in-law probably."
Siddhartha blinked.
"Excuse me?"
Arsh walked to the table and placed his watch there casually.
"I like her."
"That much is obvious," Siddhartha said, looking around again.
"There are like… fifty photos here."
Arsh didn't respond immediately.
He leaned against the table and looked at one of the pictures again.
"I just don't know how much I'm able to live without her."
Siddhartha raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds concerning."
Arsh chuckled quietly.
"You know me."
"Yes," Siddhartha said slowly. "Which is exactly why I'm confused."
Arsh crossed his arms and looked at the pictures again.
"You know how people say things like 'I can't live without someone'?"
"Yeah."
"It's not true."
Siddhartha tilted his head slightly.
"Explain."
Arsh spoke calmly, almost like he was explaining a business concept.
"No one dies for anyone. Life keeps going. People adapt. Everything heals with time."
Siddhartha folded his arms.
"You sound like a therapist."
"I'm just being logical."
He walked closer to the wall again.
"Right now I'm living without her."
He paused.
"And it looks like I'm able to."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Siddhartha looked around again.
At the photos.
At the small details.
At the way the entire room had been quietly shaped around one person.
Then he looked back at Arsh.
"Your room is filled with her pictures."
Arsh didn't reply.
"And you still think like that?"
Arsh exhaled slowly.
"It's just a thought."
Siddhartha laughed softly.
"You're unbelievable."
Arsh ignored the comment.
His eyes had stopped on another photo.
This one was taken during the skating day.
Aakrati was laughing while trying to help him balance.
Her hand was holding his arm tightly so he wouldn't fall.
The memory played in his mind clearly.
Her voice.
Her laughter.
The way she looked at him when she thought he was being dramatic.
Arsh's jaw tightened slightly.
"I just think," he said slowly, "if she were with me in my world… things would probably be better."
Siddhartha watched him carefully.
"You like her more than you're admitting."
Arsh shrugged lightly.
"Maybe."
"And does she know?"
Arsh was silent for a moment.
Then he shook his head slightly.
"Not exactly."
Siddhartha walked closer to one of the pictures and examined it.
"She looks like trouble."
Arsh smirked faintly.
"She is."
"And you still like her?"
"That's probably why."
Siddhartha shook his head in amusement.
"You're a strange man."
Arsh didn't respond.
Instead he stepped closer to the window.
Outside the city lights stretched endlessly across the skyline.
For a moment his expression softened slightly.
He wondered what Aakrati was doing at that moment.
Was she still talking too much?
Was she still arguing about random things?
Was she still laughing the way she did at the beach?
A small thought crossed his mind.
She must be missing me.
The idea felt strangely comforting.
Because if he was thinking about her this often…
It only made sense that she would be thinking about him too.
"She probably misses me," he said quietly.
Siddhartha looked at him.
"You sound very confident."
Arsh's lips curved slightly.
"She should."
Siddhartha laughed.
"You're insane."
Arsh didn't deny it.
He turned back toward the wall once more.
The photos looked almost alive in the dim room light.
For someone who claimed life moved on and everything healed with time…
He had built an entire world around someone who wasn't even there.
But Arsh didn't question it.
Because deep down, somewhere behind all his logic and control, there was a simple truth he refused to say out loud.
No matter how busy he became.
No matter how far away he was.
A part of him had stayed exactly where he left it.
With Aakrati.