A Walk Between Shadows—A Dream That Felt Too Real

The golden hues of the setting sun stretched across the pavement as they walked side by side. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable it never was. His arm rested around her shoulders, grounding, familiar. Every so often, his fingers grazed her skin, lingering a second longer than necessary like an unspoken habit.

Shruti stole a glance at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "You know, for someone who doesn't like people, you sure keep me close."

His fingers twitched. For a moment, it seemed like he was about to pull away. But he didn't.

Instead, he let out a quiet breath. "You think too much."

She laughed softly. "And you avoid too much."

His lips parted slightly, as if he had something to say, but he didn't. Instead, he just kept walking, his grip on her shoulder firm—unchanging.

Dhruv didn't look at her, but the corner of his lips twitched. "And you're annoying."

Shruti gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Excuse me? I'm a delight to be around."

His eyes flicked to hers, dark and unreadable, but something warm lingered beneath the surface.

She wasn't sure if it was the sunlight or if she was just imagining the softness in his gaze.

"I don't recall asking for your company," he muttered, looking away.

But she saw it.

The way his fingers subtly tightened—the way he was struggling not to smile.

A victorious grin stretched across her face. "Yet, here we are. You always say you don't want me around, but you never actually leave."

Dhruv exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "Maybe you just don't know when to quit."

"Or maybe…" She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't want me to."

Silence.

For the first time since she met him, Dhruv looked taken aback.

His fingers twitched, his body stiffened.

For a brief second, she could swear she saw something vulnerable in his eyes. Shruti's grin widened as she watched him struggle for a response. She had always been good at reading people, but Dhruv? He was a puzzle she never got tired of solving.

"Admit it," she nudged his side playfully. "You like having me around."

Dhruv scoffed, shaking his head. "I tolerate you."

Shruti let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching her chest. "Tolerate? You literally walk me home every day."

He shrugged, gaze fixed ahead. "You're hopeless at paying attention to your surroundings."

"Oh?" She arched a brow. "And that concerns you why?"

This time, his steps faltered. Barely. Almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

But Shruti noticed everything when it came to him.

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. "Come on, Dhruv. Just say it once. Say you don't mind having me around."

He stared at her for a long moment, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Shruti rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Fine. If admitting you like my company is too much for you, at least say we're friends."

Dhruv's gaze darkened.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, his voice came low and steady—without hesitation.

"We were never friends."

The words hit her harder than they should have.

A sharp sting, deep in her chest.

Shruti blinked, unsure why it hurt.

She had known Dhruv was cold, distant. That was who he was.

So why did hearing it feel like a knife to the ribs?

She forced out a laugh, light and careless, as if his words hadn't left a wound. "Wow. You could've at least pretended to be a little disappointed."

Her voice was steady, her smile effortless.

But her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms.

She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't let this stupid ache take over.

She turned on her heel, ready to leave before the heat behind her eyes betrayed her.

"It's fine," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I can walk home by myself."

She took a step away. Then another.

But before she could take a third—

A firm hand wrapped around her wrist.

Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

Dhruv didn't say anything. He didn't let go.

Instead, he started walking, pulling her along beside him as if nothing had happened.

Shruti stared at his back, momentarily stunned.

"Why are you so quiet?" His voice was low, cautious.

She hesitated before shaking her head. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

She swallowed. "About how you were right."

She turned to him with a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"We were never friends."

She said it so casually, so effortlessly, that for a second, even she believed it.

Dhruv's brows furrowed, something flickering across his face, but before he could speak, she tugged her wrist free from his grasp.

She was about to take another step when his voice stopped her.

"I don't mind."

She turned, confused. "What?"

Dhruv's gaze remained steady, unreadable. But his grip on her wrist tightened ever so slightly.

"I don't mind having you around."

Her breath caught.

For a second, she forgot how to move, how to breathe.

He didn't say it softly. He didn't say it hesitantly.

It was a simple statement—straightforward. Absolute.

As if he had never doubted it in the first place.

Shruti opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Because suddenly, the ache in her chest didn't feel so painful anymore.

The warmth of his fingers lingered against her wrist, steady and unwavering. The contrast between his usual cold demeanor and the undeniable heat of his touch sent an unfamiliar tremor through her chest.

Shruti had always been the one to bridge the gap between them, to pull emotions out of him when he so often buried them deep. But this—this was different.

Dhruv wasn't letting go.

His grip wasn't forceful, but it was firm, like an unspoken promise. A contradiction to the words he had spoken just moments ago. We were never friends.

Her heart clenched, the sting of those words still fresh, but now, there was something else. Something warmer.

She swallowed, trying to steady herself. But her skin was burning where his hand touched hers, the sensation seeping through her veins, settling in her bones. It was as if every nerve in her body had woken up, acutely aware of this one, simple connection.

She wanted to pull away—to create some distance before she lost herself in this moment.

But she didn't.

Instead, she let herself feel it.

The weight of his hand. The quiet comfort in his touch. The way his thumb unconsciously brushed against the inside of her wrist, as if testing to make sure she was still there.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath shallow.

Why did it feel so significant?

Why did it feel as if this moment was branding itself into her soul?

Her free hand clenched at her side. This is Dhruv. He doesn't feel things like this. He doesn't hold on unless he has to.

Then why wasn't he letting go?

Shruti's throat felt dry. She wanted to say something, to push through the silence, but the words tangled inside her mind. Instead, she stared at his hand, at the way his fingers wrapped so effortlessly around hers.

Warm.

Steady.

Familiar.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, loud enough that she was afraid he might hear it.

The rain came suddenly. One moment, the sky was clear, the next, a downpour drenched everything in sight. Shruti gasped as the cold water seeped through her clothes, but before she could react, a firm hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Come."

Dhruv's voice was steady, unaffected. He pulled her toward the nearest shelter—a small shop's closed awning. The space was tight, barely enough to keep them both dry, but he didn't seem to mind. He ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking off droplets, while she stood frozen, shivering as the cold air bit into her skin.

Before she could protest, she felt warmth—him.

Dhruv stepped behind her, and before she could even turn, his arms moved around her, pulling her into him as he wrapped his jacket over both of them.

Shruti went completely still.

His chest was solid against her back, his arms forming a shield around her as the heavy fabric of his jacket covered them both. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, seeping through her wet clothes, sending a shiver—not just from the cold but from something else entirely—down her spine.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

"You're freezing," Dhruv stated simply, as if that explained everything.

"I-I know that, but…" She swallowed, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed against her arms as he adjusted the jacket. "You could have just given it to me."

"You're drenched. Sharing body heat is more effective," he replied, his voice utterly calm.

Shruti opened her mouth, then closed it. What kind of answer is that?

"So, this is just... basic survival logic to you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, trying to gauge his expression.

"Obviously."

His voice was steady, composed. But she didn't miss the way his arms had tensed for a fraction of a second when she shifted slightly against him. Or how he had taken a slow, deliberate breath—as if trying to maintain that same composure.

A slow smile curled on her lips.

She was about to push him a little more, just to see if she could get a reaction, when Dhruv suddenly spoke again.

"You should stop talking."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're shivering."

Shruti frowned. "That doesn't mean I should stop talking."

Dhruv exhaled, and before she could say anything else, his hand moved.

His palm found her hand, cold from the rain, and he wrapped his fingers around hers without hesitation. He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of her hand, as if to warm it up.

Shruti forgot how to breathe.

Her heartbeat faltered—loud, obvious, traitorous.

He was still treating this like a practical solution. Like it was nothing.

But for her?

For her, this was everything.

"Better?" he asked, his voice still maddeningly composed.

She swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah," she muttered. Then, after a moment, she added, "If this is basic survival logic, then I guess I should expect more of these life-saving gestures from you, huh?"

Dhruv was silent for a second. Then, in a tone that was too natural, too sincere, he answered,

"If you need it, then yes."

Shruti's breath hitched.

Her fingers twitched in his hold, but she didn't pull away.

She didn't want to.

Because it was in that moment—wrapped in his warmth, feeling his quiet protectiveness—that she knew.

She was in love with him.

For a moment, she let herself stay there.

Wrapped in his warmth, her fingers still tangled with his, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest behind her.

She could hear the rain drumming against the pavement, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the petrichor in the air. It was grounding, intoxicating.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to melt into it—into him.

So, this is what it felt like.

To be safe.

To belong.

Her fingers curled slightly, gripping onto the sleeve of his jacket. She wanted to hold onto this moment forever.

But then—

Beep.

A sharp sound cut through the air.

Shruti stiffened.

Beep.

Again. Louder this time.

Her heart pounded, a strange unease creeping up her spine.

Beep.

Her eyes snapped open.

The world shifted.

The rain was gone. Dhruv's warmth disappeared.

The scent of the earth after rain was replaced with something sterile, sharp, suffocating.

Antiseptic.

No.

No, no, no—

Her breath hitched as she blinked rapidly, trying to hold onto where she had been just moments ago.

The streetlights, the rain, the warmth of his arms—it was slipping away too fast.

She wasn't standing anymore.

The walls around her were pale, too white. Too blinding. The ceiling above her was cracked, yellowed, familiar in all the wrong ways.

The beeping was incessant now, each sound a hammer to her skull.

A hospital.

No.

Not again.

Her breathing quickened.

Her chest tightened.

The weight of restraints pressed against her wrists, phantom sensations crawling up her arms, squeezing, holding her down.

No. No, she wasn't there anymore. She wasn't there anymore.

"Dhruv—"

Her voice came out strangled, raw.

She turned her head, searching desperately, but there was no one.

He was gone.

She was alone.

Trapped.

Her vision blurred as panic clawed its way up her throat. Her body convulsed, hands grasping at nothing, trying to ground herself, trying to breathe, trying to escape.

But the walls were closing in.

The past and present twisted together, warping into a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

The past and present twisted together, warping into a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything but the suffocating beeping. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, but the walls kept closing in.

Too tight.

Too small.

She couldn't breathe.

Her body jerked violently, muscles spasming in protest as she struggled against invisible restraints. The weight of unseen hands pinning her down sent fresh terror clawing through her ribs.

She had to get out. She had to—

Her fingers scrambled for something—anything—to hold onto. But all she felt was cold. Cold sheets. Cold air. Cold emptiness.

She was slipping.

Her lungs burned.

Her throat constricted as she choked on a sob, on the terror curling around her like a noose.

Where was he?

Where was—

Her vision blurred. The edges of the room warped and pulsed, shadows stretching like monstrous hands reaching for her.

She needed to run.

She tried to move, but her limbs weren't hers anymore. Her body felt detached, floating, as if she was watching herself drown from above.

"Hold her down!"

The voice slammed into her like a shockwave, but it was distant. Muffled.

She flinched as something cold pressed against her skin.

No.

No, no, no—

Her body arched violently, a strangled scream tearing from her throat.

Hands. Too many hands. Gripping. Holding her down.

They were going to hurt her again.

She thrashed harder, blind with panic, her nails clawing at skin—hers? Theirs? She didn't know.

"Stop—please—"

She couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

A sharp prick at her arm.

Ice seeped into her veins.

Her body slackened.

Her eyelids grew heavy, the world tilting, spinning, breaking apart.

No.

No, she couldn't—

Darkness swallowed her whole.