The days that followed weren't magically easier, but they were different. Something had shifted between Karthik and Ananya—not fixed, not flawless, but real. The hallway glances returned. The silence between them had softened from cold distance into something warmer, gentler. Like a conversation waiting to begin again.
It was Wednesday morning when Ananya surprised him. She walked straight up to him at the school entrance, eyes calm, lips firm, and said, "Come with me. No questions."
Karthik, caught off guard, simply nodded.
She led him away from the crowd, past their usual hangouts, down a quieter block of the campus behind the auditorium. The air was still, with only the occasional rustle of wind against leaves.
They stopped near the old basketball court, where no one played anymore.
"I used to come here when I didn't want to be seen," she said, sitting on the broken cement steps. "Before you knew me. Before anyone cared about who I was."
Karthik sat beside her, unsure where this was going but glad to be near her.
"I need you to understand something," she continued. "Loving you… it's not just about butterflies and sweet texts. It's hard. It hurts. Especially when you shut me out."
"I know," he said, almost in a whisper.
She turned to him, her eyes serious. "And I'm still here. Even after all that. Because I believe you can grow. But you have to meet me halfway, Karthik."
Her words weren't an attack—they were a plea. A quiet demand for emotional honesty.
Karthik swallowed the knot in his throat. "I want to meet you halfway. I just… I don't know how sometimes."
"Then let's learn together," she said. "But don't run from me when you're scared. Say it. Shout it. Cry it. But don't stay silent."
The wind picked up slightly. Karthik looked down at their hands resting between them, his fingers twitching.
"I'm still learning how to love," he said. "I've only ever known fear."
She didn't reply right away. Instead, she leaned her head gently on his shoulder.
"That's okay," she murmured. "I'll remind you that love isn't fear."
They sat in silence, the kind that spoke more than words. Above them, the sun filtered through the clouds, soft and golden, as if the sky itself was beginning to forgive.
Somewhere in that quiet space, a new chapter of their story began—not perfect, not resolved, but honest.
And sometimes, that was enough.
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END OF CHAPTER 143