For a long time, Akshay had lived only in today.
Not because he didn't care about the future —but because the future had never cared enough to stay.
Tomorrow was a word people used when they believed they would still be safe when it arrived.
He had learned not to trust that word.
Until now.
The thought came to him unexpectedly.
Not in a moment of drama.Not in the middle of confession or conflict.
It arrived while he was standing at the tea stall, waiting for water to boil.
The kettle hissed.Steam curled.The port hummed in its ordinary way.
And suddenly, without warning, he thought:
What if I am still here tomorrow?
Not fearfully.Not defensively.
Just… curiously.
The thought startled him so much that he almost laughed.
He carried the cups back to the bench where Kannan sat, book in hand, eyes half-lost in the horizon.
Akshay handed him one.
"Here," he said.
"Thank you," Kannan replied.
Akshay sat.
And after a moment — because silence had stopped being dangerous — he spoke.
"I did something strange just now."
Kannan looked at him, interested but not alarmed.
"What?"
Akshay stared at the tea in his cup.
"I thought about tomorrow."
The words sounded small.They weren't.
Kannan didn't smile too quickly.He didn't celebrate.He didn't make it bigger than Akshay was ready for.
He just nodded.
"That's not strange," he said gently. "That's brave."
Akshay considered that.
Then shook his head.
"It felt… unfamiliar."
Kannan nodded.
"New things always do."
They walked later that afternoon.
Not with purpose.Not with destination.
Just because walking had become something they did together without it meaning escape.
They passed the small school near the edge of the town — a low building with faded paint and children's drawings taped crookedly on the walls.
Akshay slowed.
He didn't stop.
But he looked.
Kannan noticed.
"Did you ever go to school?" Kannan asked softly.
Akshay hesitated.
"Once," he said. "For a few months. Long time ago."
Kannan didn't press.
But Akshay surprised himself by continuing.
"I liked it," he said. "I liked having a place to go where people expected me."
Kannan felt something ache — not painfully, but deeply.
"They'd still expect you," he said quietly. "If you wanted."
Akshay shook his head.
"Not like that. Not now."
He paused.
Then added, thoughtfully:
"But maybe… I could learn something again."
Kannan stopped walking.
Not abruptly.
Just enough to turn.
"What would you like to learn?"
Akshay thought.
"I don't know," he said. "Just… not only how to survive."
Kannan nodded.
"That's a good place to start."
That evening, as they cooked together, Akshay stood by the small stove, stirring rice slowly.
"You know," he said casually, "I might not stay at the port forever."
Kannan didn't react with fear.
He didn't assume departure meant loss.
He nodded.
"You don't have to."
Akshay glanced at him.
"You're not worried?"
Kannan smiled faintly.
"I'm not afraid of you leaving anymore," he said. "I'm only afraid of you thinking you can't come back."
Akshay absorbed that quietly.
Then said something new.
"I don't want to leave because I'm scared anymore."
Kannan nodded.
"Then when you leave someday," he said, "it will be because you're ready."
Akshay breathed out slowly.
"That feels different."
"Yes," Kannan said. "It is."
Later that night, as they sat outside their room, the town settling into sleep, Akshay leaned back against the wall.
The stars were faint here — the port's lights stole most of the sky — but a few still pushed through.
He stared at them.
"I used to make plans only one day at a time," he said. "Sometimes only one hour at a time."
Kannan listened.
"Now," Akshay continued, "I keep thinking… maybe I can think about next week."
Kannan's voice was soft.
"You can think about anything you want."
Akshay smiled faintly.
"I don't even know what I'd want to do next week."
"That's okay," Kannan said. "Wanting comes after safety."
Akshay nodded.
Then said something quietly, almost shyly:
"Maybe… I could help Sara with that thing she mentioned. The clinic."
Kannan looked at him, surprised.
"She told you about that?"
Akshay shrugged.
"She talks like she doesn't expect people to listen. I listen."
Kannan smiled.
"She'd like that."
Akshay stared at the ground for a moment.
Then added:
"And maybe… I could save some money. Not because I have to run. Just… in case I want to go somewhere."
Kannan nodded.
"That's exactly what freedom sounds like."
Akshay breathed in deeply.
Freedom.
The word no longer tasted like danger.
It tasted like space.
That night, before sleeping, Akshay lay on his mat and looked up at the ceiling.
Kannan lay on his bed nearby.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
In the quiet, Akshay whispered something that would have been impossible a few weeks ago.
"Tomorrow… I'll come back from work and we can cook again."
Kannan smiled in the darkness.
"I'd like that."
Akshay turned onto his side.
And for the first time in his life, he didn't fall asleep thinking about where he would go if things went wrong.
He fell asleep thinking about where he would be…when tomorrow arrived.