Aarvi didn't wake up deciding to pull away.
It happened slowly.
In small choices.
In careful pauses.
She replied to emails instead of knocking on his door.
She waited for instructions instead of anticipating them.
She smiled politely instead of softly.
From the outside, nothing changed.
From the inside, everything did.
---
She built distance the way she learned to survive
Aarvi had always known how to disappear without leaving.
She didn't argue.
She didn't accuse.
She didn't demand clarity he wasn't ready to give.
She simply… stopped leaning in.
Stopped expecting concern.
Stopped hoping for reassurance.
Stopped letting herself feel too much.
It wasn't punishment.
It was protection.
---
Riyan felt it immediately
He noticed it in the smallest ways.
The way she didn't linger near his office anymore.
The way she addressed him only when necessary.
The way her eyes no longer searched his face for answers.
This wasn't professional distance.
This was emotional retreat.
And it unsettled him more than open conflict ever could.
---
He tried to bridge it — gently
"Aarvi," he said one afternoon, stopping by her desk.
"You don't have to send everything by mail. You can come in."
She looked up, composed, polite.
"It's faster this way," she replied.
Efficient.
Neutral.
Closed.
Riyan frowned slightly.
"You seem… different."
She gave a small smile.
"I'm just focusing on work."
There was nothing to argue with.
Nothing to confront.
And that made it worse.
---
She told herself this was the right thing
That night, alone in her room, Aarvi sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone.
She could message him.
She could ask the question she had swallowed.
But she didn't.
Because what if the answer didn't change?
What if he cared… but still couldn't stay?
She wrapped her arms around herself.
You don't need certainty from someone who hasn't found it within himself, she told herself.
So she chose distance.
Quietly.
Carefully.
---
Riyan realized too late what was happening
Days passed.
The office returned to normal.
No whispers.
No tension.
But Riyan felt like something essential was slipping through his fingers.
She wasn't angry.
She wasn't hurt.
She was protecting herself.
And suddenly, he understood the cost of his hesitation.
Not losing her dramatically.
Not being pushed away.
But watching her slowly stop reaching for him.
---
The space between them grew — silently
They passed each other in hallways like before.
Exchanged necessary words.
Maintained respect.
But the warmth was gone.
And Riyan realized something that sat heavy in his chest:
Distance didn't just protect people.
Sometimes, it taught them how to let go.
And if he didn't act soon —
not with control,
not with fear,
but with courage —
He might lose her
without ever being given the chance to fight for her.