📅 Mid-November — Devgarh
The school bell rang after four long days.
Devgarh felt the same — chalk dust, half-broken benches, murmurs echoing down corridors — but something between Abhay and Ishanvi had shifted, like a crack hidden beneath polished stone.
They rode in the same line of scooters from Nandanpur, the cold morning air biting their faces.
Same road.
Same turns.
Different distance.
Abhay stayed ahead.
Classroom Distance
In biology, Ishanvi sat two benches behind him.
Usually, he turned around — even for a second — a look, a half-smile, something.
Today, nothing.
She caught herself staring at the back of his neck, waiting.
He never looked back.
Her chest tightened.
Did I do something wrong?
The beaker on her desk trembled faintly.
The flame of the spirit lamp flickered — then dulled, shrinking unnaturally before going out.
Meera frowned.
"Did someone turn off the gas?"
Ishanvi didn't answer. Her fingers felt cold.
Avoidance
Between periods, Abhay walked faster than usual.
When she stepped closer, he changed direction.
When she spoke, he replied with single words.
"Ishanvi—"
"Later."
Later never came.
Inside him, everything was noise.
If I get close, I'll lose control.
If I lose control… what happens to her?
The water bottle in his bag vibrated softly, the liquid inside sloshing without movement.
He pressed it down with his palm until it stilled.
Recess Fractures
During lunch, the siblings gathered as usual.
Raghav talked about notes.
Vaidehi complained about homework.
Aariv argued with Vivaan.
But Ishanvi barely tasted her food.
Abhay sat across the bench — close enough to touch — yet impossibly far.
She finally whispered, "Abhay… did I upset you?"
His jaw tightened.
"No."
That single word hurt more than anger.
As he stood up, the water in the nearby cooler rippled sharply, splashing onto the floor.
Vrinda stared.
"Cooler kharab hai kya?"
No one answered.
Dimming
By afternoon, the sky grew dull.
Clouds gathered — not stormy, just heavy.
In chemistry lab, Ishanvi's burner refused to ignite properly. The flame sputtered weakly, refusing to grow.
Her chest ached.
Why does it feel like something inside me is going out?
Across the room, Abhay's test tube fogged over, condensation crawling unnaturally fast before stopping completely.
He stared at it, unsettled.
It's reacting to me… again.
But instead of control, there was exhaustion.
The Walk Back
The ride home was quieter.
The scooters moved in pairs — siblings laughing, arguing.
Abhay slowed this time.
Ishanvi noticed.
For a moment, their scooters rode side by side.
The wind howled between them.
"I don't understand," she said softly. "You were there… and then suddenly you weren't."
He gripped the handle harder.
"Ishanvi, I just—"
He stopped himself.
I can't say it.
If I say it, everything changes.
The river Sudarshini flowed below the bridge — calm, almost lifeless.
No shimmer.
No pull.
Just stillness.
Nightfall
That night, fire refused to warm Ishanvi's hands.
Rain refused to respond to Abhay's restless thoughts.
Whatever connected them was still there —
but strained, stretched thin by fear and silence.
From their separate windows, they stared at the same dark sky.
Missing each other.
Missing themselves.
And somewhere deep within nature itself, something whispered:
Balance is breaking.