Chapter 8: Shadows and Sparks (TTPW)

Maya sat at the edge of her bed with her sketchbook open and untouched. Aarav's words, which had echoed in her head long into the night, came back now: "It's too late. I've moved on." Though his reassurance had been soothing, Ishita's reappearance filled her with some discomfort. She was jolted out of her thoughts by a soft knock at her door. She opened it to find Aarav standing there, looking for a change precarious instead of usual placidity.

"I wanted to check on you," he said, his voice softer than usual.

Maya stepped aside, letting him in. The room felt smaller with his presence, the air thick with unsaid emotions.

"Ishita showing up… it wasn't something I expected," Aarav began, sitting at the chair by her window. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she recognized as frustration.

"You owe me no explanation," Maya said quietly, though her heart yearned for one.

"But I want to give you one," he pressed, his eyes holding hers. "When she left, it broke me in ways I didn't think possible. I buried myself in my music, my routines… anything to forget her. And for a while, I thought I'd never feel anything real again." He paused, the words hanging in the air. "Then you moved in next door."

Maya could feel her cheeks warm, but didn't say a thing. "You reminded me what it feels like to live, to hope," Aarav continued. "So, when Ishita showed up today, it only reinforced what I already knew—I don't want to go back to that life. I want to move forward."

Maya's chest compressed at the confession. She wanted to believe every word, but doubt lingered like a shadow. "Moving forward isn't easy," she said warily.

"It isn't," he agreed. "But I'd like to try—with you."

The days that followed were a dance of tentative steps. Aarav and Maya found more time, taking shelter in the quiet moments: sharing coffee on her balcony, walking through the park as dusk settled, and discovering little things about each other. Maya learned that Aarav hated olives but loved pineapple on his pizza—a fact that made her laugh out loud. Aarav discovered that Maya collected postcards, each one a little story of her dreams to travel. Yet, looming beneath the growing bond was the specter of Ishita's reappearance. Aarav seemed bent on leaving the past behind, but Maya couldn't shake the fear that it might catch up to them.

They were walking by the lake one evening when Aarav stopped suddenly. "Maya," he said, turning to face her, "what's holding you back?"

It surprised her. "I don't know what you mean," she said, sidestepping his gaze.

"Yes, you do," he said softly. "You're pulling away, and I don't know why."

Maya took a deep breath, the weight of her insecurities pressing down on her. "What if I'm not enough?" she finally admitted. "What if Ishita comes back, and you realize you want her instead?"

Aarav relaxed and reached out to her hands. "Maya, listen to me. I don't know if I won't fail or if everything will always be so easy. But I can promise you this: right now, nobody else is who I want to be with."

His words drenched her with a warm throw blanket feel. She nodded, a small cracked smile peeking through the uncertainty. "Okay.".

They would sit through a movie at Aarav's place—how many light comedies could lift their thoughts out of the morass? Maya pulled her sketchbook from her bag and sat through the movie, sketching out Aarav's profile, the lines of his jaw, the curve of his smile.

"What are you drawing?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.

"No-ting," she said hastily, closing the book.

"Let me see," he said, attempting to snatch it from her.

Her laughter filled the space as they fought for dominance over the sketchbook. It was then that Aarav wrestled it from her, opening up the book to reveal the drawing. He relaxed a little at the sight of it, his expression softening.

"This is incredible," he breathed out in awe.

"It's only a sketch," Maya said, deflecting.

"No, it's more," he pressed, his gaze falling on hers again. "You have a gift, Maya."

The sincerity in his voice constricted her chest. No one ever looked at her art the way he did-not even her parents, who always treated it more like a hobby than something that burned inside of her.

"Thank you," she whispered hardly above a whisper.

In that moment, a shift between them occurred. It was like the walls they had each so meticulously constructed around themselves finally came crashing down, leaving only raw vulnerability.

Just when they were settling in for comfort in the evening, Aarav's phone came to life. He looked at the screen and his expression darkened.

"It's Ishita," he said, frustration implied in his voice.

Maya tensed. "Are you going to answer it?"

"No," he said with finality, silencing the call. But the tension in his posture told her that it wasn't his first time she'd tried to reach him.

"She's not going to go easily, is she?" asked Maya nervously.

Aarav sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. "I know she is probably not, but nothing is coming between us."

Maya nodded, but a part of her wondered how easy it could be. As night fell they tried to relapse back into all the light-heartedness of before, but Ishita's call loomed and hung about, reminding them that whatever they wanted, the past was not something they could leave so easily behind.

That night, when Maya came home to her flat, she found herself staring at the sketch of Aarav. The lines seemed so important now; as though they held a piece of her heart.

But as she kept the sketchbook aside, her phone buzzed with a message. She opened it and found a line from an unknown number:

"Do you really think you can replace me?"

Maya's heart froze as her mind ran pell mell. Was it Ishita? Or something else altogether?

The night dragged on the question unanswered.