Almost Movement.

The breeze had changed.

It wasn't stronger or colder—it just felt different. Like it was nudging them forward. As if even the wind knew they'd lingered too long in one place.

Aanya stretched her arms lightly, her fingers grazing the edge of his sleeve as she did. Unintentional, but it sent a current through him anyway.

"Time?" she asked, not looking at him.

He checked his phone. "We've got ten minutes before the next class."

She hummed a response. No urgency. No movement yet.

But both of them knew the spell had to break soon. The bench wasn't going to hold the weight of this quiet forever.

He leaned back slightly, head tilted toward the sky. Eyes closed.

Why does it feel like the quiet with her is louder than anything else?

He could hear his own breath. Could feel the heaviness of everything he wasn't saying.

There was so much. So much he didn't know how to put into words.

About how his silence had started taking shape in her presence.

About how being near her made him feel both raw and safe.

About how badly he didn't want to move—but knew he had to.

She stood up first.

Her shadow fell across his face.

"You coming?" she asked, a slight tilt in her voice.

He opened his eyes. Blinked into the sunlight framing her silhouette.

"Yeah," he said, and stood. His body felt heavier than it should have.

They began walking, side by side, unhurried.

She walked close. Not too close. Just enough to make him feel it.

And suddenly, the ten-minute walk back to class felt like a tightrope.

Thin, careful. Unstable.

But neither of them wanted to fall just yet.