Aruna woke up with a heaviness she couldn't explain.
It wasn't sadness exactly. It wasn't happiness either. It was the kind of feeling that sat quietly in her chest, pressing a little harder every time she thought of one name Maira.
She didn't know when it had started. Or how. She only knew that Maira's words from the river stayed with her longer than they should have. I like you, Aruna. Not said loudly. Not said with demand. Just… honest.
Later that morning, Aruna found her grandmother sitting in the courtyard. The old woman was peeling vegetables, her movements slow and steady, as if time itself listened to her.
Aruna sat beside her, knees drawn close to her chest.
For a while, she said nothing.
Her grandmother noticed. She always did.
"You're very quiet today," her grandmother said gently. "Your silence sounds heavy."
Aruna swallowed. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her dress.
"Grandma…" she began, then stopped.
Her grandmother turned fully toward her. "You can ask me anything."
Aruna took a breath. Her voice came out softer than she expected.
"Grandma… how does it feel to like someone?"
The knife stopped moving.
Her grandmother didn't answer immediately. She studied Aruna's face her eyes, her hesitation, the way her shoulders were tense.
"Why do you ask that, child?" she asked calmly.
Aruna stared at the ground. "Because I don't understand what I'm feeling," she admitted. "It's not excitement. It's not fear. It's just… there. Like something sitting inside my heart, not letting me ignore it."
Her grandmother smiled softly and set everything aside.
"When you like someone," she said slowly, "it doesn't always feel like the stories tell you. Sometimes it doesn't make your heart race. Sometimes it makes you quiet."
Aruna looked up.
"Sometimes," her grandmother continued, "liking someone feels like thinking about them when you don't want to. Worrying about hurting them even when they haven't asked for anything. Feeling safe and confused at the same time."
Aruna's chest tightened.
"What if you don't know what to do with those feelings?" she asked. "What if you're scared of choosing wrong?"
Her grandmother reached out and placed a warm hand over hers.
"Then you take your time," she said. "Real feelings don't disappear just because you don't name them. And real people won't rush you to decide."
Those words stayed with Aruna long after they left the courtyard.
That afternoon, they went for a picnic by the riverside.
The place was crowded. Families laughed, children ran near the water, voices blended with music and the sound of the river. It felt alive too alive for how quiet Aruna felt inside.
She stood near the edge of the river, watching the water flow endlessly forward.
"Hi."
She turned.
A boy stood there, smiling politely. "My name is Dhruv," he said. "What's yours?"
"Aruna," she replied.
"That's a really nice name," Dhruv said. "You don't look like you're from around here. Where do you live?"
"In the city," Aruna answered. "We're visiting my grandma."
"Oh," he nodded. "Then you'll be here for a while?"
"Just the holidays."
Dhruv smiled a little wider. "There's a summer festival here next week. Lights, music, food stalls… everyone goes. I was wondering would you like to go with me?"
The question landed heavier than she expected.
Aruna didn't feel flattered. She didn't feel excited.
She felt torn.
Before she could respond, something made her look up.
Maira.
Maira stood a short distance away, Adhi beside her. From where she stood, Maira could see everything the way Dhruv leaned closer, the way Aruna didn't immediately refuse.
Inside Maira, something twisted painfully.
So this is it, she thought. She doesn't need time. She just needed someone else.
Maira's jaw tightened. She forced her eyes away before Aruna could read what was written on her face.
Aruna saw it.
She saw Maira look away.
Her heart dropped.
"I…" Aruna said to Dhruv, her voice barely steady. "I don't know. I need time."
Dhruv nodded easily. "That's okay. Think about it."
When he walked away, Aruna turned back toward Maira but Maira was already busy with Adhi, her smile thin, her eyes distant.
Neither of them spoke.
And in that silence filled with misunderstanding, unspoken feelings, and badly timed moments both of them felt the same quiet ache.
Something important was happening.
And neither of them knew how to stop it from hurting.