When Time Chooses Sides
Time moved.
It always did.
But it didn’t move the same way for everyone.
For Ananya, days became structured—classes, coaching forms, mock tests, responsibilities at home. Her mother spoke more often about practicality. Her father checked calendars and deadlines.
Life was being planned for her.
She followed it carefully.
She stopped sitting near the window. There was no need anymore.
Sometimes, while studying late at night, her thoughts drifted—not to memories, but to possibilities that never happened. That frightened her more than loss. Possibilities felt selfish.
So she pushed them away.
For Arjun, time moved faster.
New city. New expectations. His days were filled with proving himself worthy of the opportunity he’d been given. He learned quickly, adapted quietly.
People appreciated him.
“You’re very grounded,” they said.
He smiled politely.
At night, exhaustion settled into his bones. That was when silence returned.
He would sit by the window of his room—different city, different sky—and feel an ache he couldn’t explain to anyone.
He never thought of Ananya in dramatic ways.
He thought of her like one thinks of home—
something steady that doesn’t demand presence to exist.
Months passed.
Ananya cleared an important exam. Her parents were relieved. Proud.
“We did the right thing,” her father said.
She smiled.
In another house, Arjun’s mother told relatives proudly about his progress. “He’s becoming responsible,” she said.
He nodded over the phone.
Both families believed things were going exactly as they should.
That was the tragedy.
One afternoon, Ananya received an invitation to a cousin’s engagement. Laughter filled the house. Plans were made.
Her mother looked at her thoughtfully.
“Soon, it will be your turn,” she said—not as pressure, but as inevitability.
Ananya felt something shift inside her.
That night, she stood near her window, the neem tree still standing where it always had.
She realised something quietly devastating.
She had never been given the chance to choose.
Neither had he.
And silence—the same silence that had once protected their love—
was now ensuring it would never ask for a voice.
Time doesn’t always heal.
Sometimes, it simply moves on
leaving behind two hearts that learned to love without ever learning how to let go.
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