Vashti Dhiman didn't believe in second chances.
Not really.
Not after the sleepless nights. The unanswered texts. The way she stood at the edge of her own heart for years, waiting for Shabd Heer to reach out—
And he never did.
But now… here he was.
No more silence.
No more "maybes."
He didn't ask for a place in her life.
He didn't beg for a chance.
He just showed up—finally—as a man who had learned that love doesn't wait forever.
And that? That shook her more than any confession could.
The next few weeks, they didn't fall into old patterns.
No "good morning" texts. No late-night phone calls. No pretending like the years in between hadn't changed them.
Instead, they were careful.
Quiet.
Shabd would walk with her after shifts—sometimes talking about his research, sometimes not talking at all. Just walking beside her like he was finally learning how to stay.
And Vashti… let him.
She didn't hand him her heart again.
She made him earn it, piece by piece.
One evening, they sat outside the hospital café, watching the sun bleed orange into the horizon.
Vashti broke the silence. "You know what made me stop chasing you?"
Shabd looked at her, patient.
"I realized I kept loving someone who didn't know how to love me back. And it wasn't your fault. You just… weren't ready."
He nodded, quietly. "And now?"
"I'm not sure if I am," she said honestly. "I've built a life without needing you in it."
He leaned forward, voice soft. "Then let me earn a place in the one you have now. Not the past. Not the future. Just this version of you."
That version of her… was powerful. Independent. Still healing.
And maybe—
Still a little in love.
She studied him. Then held out her hand across the table.
"Start with coffee," she said. "No promises."
Shabd smiled, taking it gently.
"No promises," he echoed. "Just this moment."
And for the first time in years, there was no chase.
No begging.
No ghosting.
Just two souls—still five years apart, but finally on the same page.
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