---
**Chapter 31: When Silence Speaks Louder**
Aanya sat by the window of her dorm room, watching raindrops trickle down the glass pane. London's autumn was slowly settling in, bringing with it a kind of melancholy she hadn't anticipated. Or maybe it wasn't the weather at all. Maybe it was the man who now occupied every corner of her life—even when he wasn't physically there.
Arjun hadn't reached out since their café meeting.
Not once.
And it was driving her crazy.
Was this what she wanted? Space?
Yes.
Then why did her hands keep itching to text him?
She had told herself she needed distance, perspective, time to figure things out. But now that he was giving her all of that, something inside her felt… unsettled.
Her phone buzzed. She reached for it instinctively.
**Raj (Arjun's co-founder):** *Can you take 20 mins tomorrow? Arjun's launching the London workspace. He wants you to see it. He won't be there. Just me, promise.*
Aanya's brows furrowed.
Why was Arjun doing this?
Creating distance. Respecting her boundaries. Involving her without pressuring her.
She responded with a short: *Okay. Tomorrow afternoon works.*
And instantly regretted it. Her heart started thumping at the thought of stepping into his world again.
---
The next day, she arrived at the workspace, tucked inside a renovated brick building near Shoreditch.
Raj greeted her with a wide grin. "You came. He wasn't sure you would."
"He sent *you* so I wouldn't feel cornered," she said, impressed despite herself.
Raj nodded. "He's changed. More than I ever thought he would. Not just for you… but because of you."
The office was sleek—warm wooden panels, clean glass walls, subtle pops of blue and green. There were photographs of the India headquarters, quotes about innovation and resilience, and a lounge with a bookshelf she was sure Arjun had chosen himself.
One photo on the wall caught her eye.
A candid shot of Arjun in a team meeting—laughing.
That laugh. She hadn't seen it in months.
Raj's voice pulled her back. "He works long hours now, but there's more purpose behind it. Not to run *from* something anymore. He's trying to build something for real."
Aanya crossed her arms. "And yet he blackmailed me into one night."
Raj paused, his tone softening. "That was wrong. I told him that too. But I think he's trying to show you now that he regrets it. He's giving you power back."
She nodded slowly, conflicted.
Then Raj added, "He didn't put your photo up anywhere, but he looks at the wall behind his desk like there's something missing."
She didn't respond. But a part of her curled at the edges, warm and uncertain.
---
That evening, Aanya video-called her friend **Naina**—someone from her undergrad years who had no connection to Arjun, no stakes in the mess.
"Girl," Naina said dramatically after hearing the update, "he followed you to London, gave you space, and didn't even make a scene?"
"Yep."
"And you're not even a little impressed?"
Aanya groaned. "Don't start."
"I'm just saying. If he was a jerk, he'd be showing up at your classes, throwing tantrums, dragging you home."
"He did all that in India."
"But he's *not* doing it now," Naina pointed out. "That means growth."
Aanya hated that she was right.
"But what if it's all part of a longer manipulation?" she whispered. "What if he's just trying to soften me before pulling me back into something I don't want?"
Naina looked at her seriously. "Then trust yourself to spot it. But also don't sabotage someone's effort just because you're scared of the past."
That night, Aanya stared at her ceiling for hours.
---
Meanwhile, Arjun was watching the rain from his own apartment, a fifteen-minute drive from Aanya's campus. He hadn't seen her in a week—not since their café meeting—and every day felt like walking on a tightrope.
He wanted to call her. Text her. Send her flowers. Remind her of how they used to laugh at the silliest things.
But he stopped himself.
Every time.
Because he knew one wrong move, one ounce of pressure, could push her away permanently.
So he poured himself into work. Expansion plans. Investor meetings. Office logistics.
He even started reading self-help books.
**Sumitra**, still in London for a few more days, had started noticing.
"You're quieter now," she commented over dinner.
Arjun barely looked up. "There's nothing to say."
"I've never seen you like this, Arjun."
"I've never *felt* like this."
She watched him carefully. "You know, when your father left us… I thought I'd never be whole again. But healing doesn't come from forgetting. It comes from trying again."
Arjun looked at her sharply. "You think I should keep trying with her?"
"I think you already are. But you're doing it differently now. Less like your father. More like someone I'm proud of."
His chest tightened.
"I just want her to choose me. Not out of guilt. Not out of obligation. But because she wants to."
Sumitra reached over and placed her hand on his. "Then make her want to."
---
The next morning, Aanya was at her university café when a faculty member handed her an envelope.
She frowned. "This isn't from school?"
"No. It was delivered for you earlier."
Curious, she opened it.
Inside was a simple note:
**"I'm not asking for forever. I'm just asking for one evening. If you hate me after that, I'll never ask again. - A"**
Below it was a restaurant reservation.
Her heart leapt and dropped at the same time.
He was doing it again—pulling at her curiosity, her guilt, her hope.
And she hated that she *wanted* to go.
She stared at the note for a long time.
Then sighed.
"Damn it, Arjun."
---
That night, she stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a deep navy dress she hadn't worn before. Simple, elegant, sharp. It reminded her of who she was before everything went sideways.
When she entered the restaurant, her eyes instantly found him.
Arjun stood up. Black shirt, gray blazer, that nervous expression he rarely wore. He had trimmed his beard. His eyes were intense but softened when they landed on her.
"You look beautiful," he said, stepping forward.
She didn't respond. Just took her seat.
He didn't reach for her hand. Didn't try to lean in. He simply smiled and handed her a menu.
They spoke about neutral things at first—food, weather, her classes, his workspace. The waiter brought wine, and Arjun poured hers first.
Finally, she set down her glass and looked at him.
"Why are you doing this?"
His eyes didn't flinch. "Because you once said I never fought for anything the *right* way. I want to do this the right way."
She tilted her head. "And what if I say no? Again?"
"I'll back off. But I won't stop loving you."
There it was.
That weight in the room.
She exhaled. "You don't make this easy."
"I'm not trying to. I'm just being honest."
Silence again.
But this time, it wasn't uncomfortable.
It was full of tension. Hope. History.
And something slowly rekindling.
---
**End of Chapter 31**