Chapter 29: The Untold Things

The evening air was soft and cool as Mira sat on the edge of the small rooftop terrace, the wind brushing past her hair like whispers of forgotten time. The city below hummed with life, distant and blurred like the echoes of memories she didn't want to touch tonight.

She turned her head as she heard a familiar voice call gently, "Still chasing the wind, Mira?"

She smiled faintly. "Some habits don't change."

Rehan walked over slowly, his footsteps soft. He had always known how to move around her — never too loud, never too quiet. Just present. Just there. Like he had always been.

"I brought your favorite," he said, placing a small takeaway bag beside her. The scent of roasted peanuts and chocolate reached her nose. She laughed quietly.

"You still remember."

"I never forgot," he said, settling down beside her, just far enough to not intrude but close enough for warmth.

A long pause filled the space between them. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

Mira broke the silence. "I didn't expect you to come."

"You never ask me to," he said. "But I come anyway."

There was something about the way he said it — soft, careful, but full of something deeper.

"I saw you at the café," he added after a moment. "With Lena and Aariz. That must have been hard."

"It was… necessary," she replied. "We can't move forward if we're always bleeding from behind."

Rehan nodded slowly, watching her from the side. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her scarf — a sign she was thinking too hard, feeling too much.

"I've known you since we were what—twelve?" he said. "Back then, you used to walk into every room like you could hear the world applauding you."

"I miss that version of me sometimes," Mira whispered. "She didn't care what the world thought."

Rehan turned a little, facing her more fully. "I miss her too. But this version… this Mira? She's stronger. Softer. Braver in ways even she doesn't see."

She turned her head toward him, surprised by the weight in his voice. "Why do you always say things like that when I least expect it?"

"Because I've carried those words for years," he said gently. "And I never found the right moment. Maybe I was scared. Or maybe I knew… you were never meant for me."

Mira stilled. The breeze paused, like the universe was listening.

"I cared for you," Rehan said slowly. "More than I ever said. Maybe more than I should have. But I never said it because I didn't want to make you choose. I didn't want to be a burden."

Tears formed in Mira's eyes, soft and silent. She reached for his hand — something she rarely did. "You were never a burden, Rehan. You were the light in some of my darkest days."

"I just wanted you to know," he said, eyes fixed on the horizon. "That even if you chose someone else, even if you were in love with someone I could never be — I would still show up. Still bring you chocolate peanuts. Still be your silence when the world gets too loud."

She pressed his hand softly, grateful and hurting all at once.

"I never loved you the way you wanted," Mira said honestly. "But I loved you in the only way I could. With trust. With comfort. With something sacred."

Rehan smiled, though his eyes glistened. "And that's more than most people ever get."

They sat there, two souls tangled in a quiet farewell that didn't need words. The stars were shy tonight, hiding behind clouds — just like the feelings they never fully shared. But in that moment, neither of them needed the sky to shine.

Because sometimes, closure isn't an ending. It's a quiet acknowledgment that something once mattered — and always will.