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

When the Silence Breaks

It had been weeks since Kiara ended things with Arvind.

There were no grand announcements. No whispered gossip.
She simply stopped showing up beside him —
And people eventually stopped asking questions.

But something in Arvind had shifted.

He smiled more now — not because someone asked him to,
But because he meant it.

He doodled in the margins of his notes again.
He joined the campus art club.
He even hosted a small workshop on healing through sketching.

He was healing.

But even in that quiet recovery, something still lingered —
A thread. A name.
A truth left unspoken.

Tiara

She saw him from across the campus lawn one breezy afternoon.
Sketchbook in his lap. Hair messy from the wind.

He looked familiar — achingly so.
Like home.
Like a version of peace she hadn't known in years.

And she knew —
If she let this moment pass, it might never return.

So she walked toward him.

Arvind noticed her instantly.
He didn't flinch. Didn't stand.
He just smiled — soft and steady.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey."

A pause.

"Can I sit?"

"You never have to ask."

The Confession

They sat for minutes.
Maybe hours.
Time didn't seem to matter anymore.

Then Tiara finally spoke.

"You remember that night you got stuck in the elevator?"

He nodded.

"I saw you. Really saw you. For the first time in years.
And for a moment... all the noise in my head went quiet."

She looked down, fingers nervously twisting her bracelet.

"I was scared. Of what it meant. Of what you meant.
So I kept running. From you. From myself. From everything."

He listened, still. Patient.

"But the truth is... I never stopped loving you.
Not when I was with someone else.
Not even when I tried to forget.
Not for a single day."

Her voice cracked.
"I don't expect anything. I just... needed you to know."

Silence.

Then —
Arvind gently put down his pencil.

"The day I lost my parents... I thought my story ended."

He looked at her, eyes glistening.

"But the day I met you... it began again."

He reached for her hand.

"Every sketch. Every dumb poem in that old Secret Files notebook...
It was always about you."

His voice was quiet. Certain.

"You weren't my past, Tiara.
You were always the beginning."

She laughed — broken and beautiful.
And leaned her forehead against his.

No audience.
No drama.
No noise.

Just two people —
Finally letting go of the weight they had carried for years...
And learning to hold each other again.