Where Silence Learned to Love - Part 7

 

News Wrapped in Care

The news came on an ordinary evening.

Ananya was helping her mother sort old steel containers when her father cleared his throat—a sound that always meant something important was about to be said.

“I spoke to Sharma uncle today,” he began, carefully. “His niece is doing very well after her coaching. We should consider something similar for you.”

Ananya paused.

Coaching meant another city.
Another routine.
Another distance.

Her mother smiled softly. “It’s good for your future. A girl must become capable before responsibilities come.”

Ananya nodded. She always did.

That night, she stared at her calendar, counting days she hadn’t realised were already slipping away.

At college, she noticed Arjun less—not because he wasn’t there, but because she was slowly training herself not to look.

One afternoon, as she waited near the office to submit a form, she overheard two lecturers talking.

“Arjun has applied for an internship in another state,” one said. “Good exposure.”

Her heart tightened.

Another state.

She imagined train journeys, unfamiliar streets, new responsibilities shaping him into someone further away from her quiet world.

Later that day, their eyes met across the library aisle.

For the first time, she wondered if this was the last phase of their shared silence.

She wanted to tell him she might leave.
She wanted to ask if he was really going.

But fear stood tall between them—fear of parents, of consequences, of acknowledging something that had survived only because it remained unnamed.

That evening, Ananya’s mother sat beside her while she studied.

“You know,” she said gently, “life doesn’t wait for feelings. It moves forward. We must move with it.”

Ananya swallowed.

She wanted to ask, What about feelings that move quietly, without disturbing anyone?

But daughters rarely asked such questions.

Across town, Arjun read his internship offer again. His parents were proud. He should have felt relieved.

Yet, an unexpected heaviness pressed against his chest.

He thought of the last bench near the window.

He thought of the one piece of sweet she had accepted.

He thought of how silence had become familiar—and how soon, it might disappear entirely.

Some news arrives wrapped in care.
Some decisions are made out of love.

Yet, even the gentlest intentions can slowly begin to separate two hearts—
not because they chose differently,
but because they were never asked what they felt.