In the Window of Silence

Akash leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the wooden desk, his voice barely above a hum.

"Mere saamne wali khidki mein…"

The old Kishore Kumar song drifted through the quiet office space, mixing with the distant hum of ceiling fans and the occasional ringing of phones. Anushka, seated across from him, looked up from her laptop, amused by his sudden nostalgia.

“Kaun? Woh black salwar wali?” she teased, her lips curving into a warm smile.

Akash smirked, shaking his head. “Nahin re baba. She’s not my type. Usske aane se pehle hi saari kundli mil gayi thi.”

Anushka chuckled. “Aapko?”

“Haan. Puri building mein kaun kahan rehta hai, sab pata hai mujhe,” he said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She shook her head playfully. “Dekh ke toh nahi lagta, aap itna kuch jaante honge.”

But before he could respond with another quip, he suddenly met her gaze—deep, probing, unguarded.

“Waise, aapko dekh ke bhi nahi lagta tha… itna dard chhupa sakti hain,” he murmured.

The room fell silent.

Her fingers froze over the keyboard, and something heavy settled between them.

She lowered her gaze, pretending to adjust the files on her desk, but the weight of his words pressed against her chest.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

For a year now, he had watched her. Watched her smile when she didn’t mean it, laugh when it was expected, and work late just to avoid the silence of an empty home. He had seen her eyes lose their light, seen the way she flinched at the mention of love.

And he had stayed.

Never asking for anything. Never questioning her choices. Just… staying.

The silence stretched between them until Akash finally spoke, his voice softer this time.

“Till when, Anushka?”

She looked up.

“It’s been a year,” he continued, turning his chair towards her. “And you’re still silent. You know na… someone is waiting?”

She inhaled sharply. She knew he wasn’t talking about himself. He was talking about the man she had fallen for—someone who couldn’t love her back.

“Let it be na,” she whispered, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Relationships always break me, Akash. Love scares me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I admit… love is terrifying.”

She wasn’t sure if he was speaking just for her anymore.

“But I just want you to give yourself a chance,” he said, his voice steadier now. “You deserve it. You deserve countless second chances, Anushka.”

She felt something inside her crack—something she had been holding together for far too long.

Akash watched her, his own eyes clouding with unshed tears. “I can’t see you faking a smile anymore.”

For a moment, she thought about the countless nights she had spent crying alone. The quiet heartbreak she had never spoken about. The way she had lost herself trying to love someone who never saw her the same way.

And then she thought about Akash.

How he had stayed—not as a savior, not as someone who pitied her, but simply as someone who cared.

She wiped her eyes quickly before looking at him, really looking at him.

“Akash,” she whispered, “why do you always stay?”

His lips parted slightly, as if the answer was caught in his throat.

Because I love you.

Because I have loved you in every stolen glance, in every unsaid word, in every moment I chose to heal you instead of asking for love in return.

But instead, he only smiled. A gentle, aching smile.

“Because someone has to remind you that you’re worth more than your pain,” he said simply.

And with that, he stayed.

Not as a lover. Not as a savior.

Just as the man who loved her in silence.