Parallel Lines: a story of memory, silence, and first love

The Spaces Between

Kabir sighed.

He liked Tiara.
Hell, maybe he loved her.

But he wasn't sure she loved him back.

And that kind of truth...
It doesn't explode.
It rots.
Slow.

Tiara's Dorm – A Few Days Later

She waited for Kabir outside the mess.
They were supposed to meet for chai.

She called once.
No answer.

He texted fifteen minutes later:
"Sorry. Got caught up with college rep work. Let's meet tomorrow?"

Tiara stared at the message.

Felt her chest tighten.
Not because of the delay.

But because she knew — deep down —
this wasn't about college work.

It was him drifting.

And her pretending not to notice.

Closing Beat

Sometimes, it's not a breakup.
Not a fight.

Just footsteps growing softer.
Just a boy walking slower beside you.

And you don't know whether to catch up...
Or let him keep walking.

4.3 – "The Question"

"Some truths don't explode. They just sit between two people — quietly, heavily, unavoidably."

Kabir's Room – A Rainy Evening 

The rain had started half an hour ago, drumming softly against the windowpanes.
Tiara sat cross-legged on the edge of Kabir's bed, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over her palms. Kabir stood near his desk, pacing — not angrily, but with the kind of tension that made the air feel thick.
He turned finally, voice low. Not accusing. Just tired.
"Tiara... who is Arvind?"

She blinked, startled. "...What?"
Kabir held up the notebook. Secret Flies. "I saw this again. I didn't mean to read it... but I did."
Tiara's breath hitched.

"I just... I need to know," Kabir continued. "Why do you carry it everywhere? Why is it hidden like it matters that much?" His voice softened. "Do you love him?"

Silence.
A beat passed.
Then another.

Tiara didn't deny it.
For once, she didn't hide behind a smile. Or a joke. Or another cup of coffee.

She looked down at her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet — almost unfamiliar.
"I was always the shy girl," she began. "Nerdy. Quiet. Invisible." Her fingers tightened around her sleeves.
"When my dad got transferred to Delhi, I joined a new school. I was scared. Alone. I thought I'd spend the next two years being just... no one."

She looked up, meeting his gaze.
"Then this boy sat beside me on the first day. He had this stupid grin and hair that stuck out like he'd fought a pillow." A soft smile tugged at her lips.
"That boy was Arvind."

Flashback Tones
Her voice steadied, warmed by the memory.
"He made me laugh. All the time. Even when I didn't want to. Even when I didn't know how to."
"We used to go on family trips together — crazy stuff like late-night bike rides, getting lost in Dilli Haat, playing Monopoly for five hours straight just so neither of us would lose."

"He taught me cricket. I made him play Barbie with me once — he hated it but wore the tiara anyway." She chuckled, eyes glassy. "Said it matched my name."

Kabir didn't interrupt. He just listened.

"I became confident because of him. Brave. Loud. Me."