The World That Existed Only for Them - Part 7

 

The Comfort of Being Counted

Aarav returned to the district office one Monday morning, earlier than usual. His work had slowed, the urgency easing into something manageable. He stood near the familiar pillar, files in hand, waiting.

Ananya arrived a few minutes later.

She didn’t look surprised to see him. That, more than anything, told him something had changed.

“You’re back,” she said, as if he had only stepped out for tea.

“For now,” he replied.

They sat on the old wooden bench near the staircase—the one with a loose nail and faded paint. People passed by, conversations overlapping, names being called. Yet their small corner felt oddly separate.

“My letter came,” Ananya said suddenly.

He looked at her, a flicker of concern crossing his face before relief took over. “That’s good.”

“Yes,” she said. “I start next month. Temporary position.”

“Temporary is still a beginning,” he said.

She smiled at that—not brightly, but with gratitude.

A silence followed, deeper than the ones before. Not empty. Settled.

“I used to think no one would notice if I wasn’t here,” she said quietly. “This office, I mean.”

Aarav understood she meant more than that.

“They would,” he said, without hesitation.

She looked at him then. Really looked.

“Would you?” she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Not because he didn’t know—but because some truths deserved care.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I would.”

That was the moment.

Not love. Not confession.

Just the knowledge that, in a world crowded with indifference, they mattered to at least one person.

When they left that day, they walked again. Neither rushed ahead. Neither lagged behind.

It felt like balance.