Aayansh pov
I didn’t drive fast. That surprised me. If this were the old me, I would’ve rushed heart in my throat, rehearsing lines, trying to arrive with certainty. But tonight, certainty wasn’t mine to bring. Only honesty was.
The diary sat on the passenger seat, closed, untouched since I’d left my room. I hadn’t opened it again. I didn’t need to. Its weight was already inside me.
When I reached her house, the lights were still on, I could see from her window.
That made my chest tighten.
I parked, took the diary in my hands once more, then left it in the car. This wasn’t something I needed to return immediately. This wasn’t proof. This wasn’t leverage.
This was trust and trust didn’t need to be shown.
I stood outside her house, right beneath her window.
I didn’t go in. Didn’t ring the bell. I took out my phone and called her.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
“Hello?”
“Ruhi,” I said quietly. “Come down. I’m outside.”
There was a pause.
“What?” she asked, confused.
Before I could explain, I saw movement above. The balcony door slid open. She stepped out, the light from her room spilling behind her.
And then she saw me.
We just stood there.
Me on the street. Her above me.
Looking at each other like the world had narrowed down to this one line of sight. No distance felt longer than those few seconds. No silence is heavier.
Then she spoke, her voice carrying softly from above.
“Did you read it?”
I nodded. Slowly. Clearly. Making sure she could see it even in the dim light. “Hmm.”
She didn’t say anything else.
She just turned around and went back inside.
For a split second, my chest dropped. Not fear, just acceptance. Whatever she needed next, I would respect it.
And then. The main door opened. Not even a minute later.
She ran down the steps, fast, careless, like she’d forgotten how to be careful for once. I barely had time to react before she reached me.
She didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask.
She hugged me.
Her arms wrapped around my waist, her face pressed into my chest like she’d been holding this in for days. I froze for half a second not because I didn’t want it, but because I wanted to be sure.
Then I wrapped my arms around her, slowly at first, then fully.
Not tight enough to trap her. Just enough to hold her.
She exhaled against me a deep, shaking breath and I felt it. The release. The decision. The quiet yes.
We stood there like that for a long time.
No words. No explanations. Just two people finally meeting at the same moment.
“I meant it,” she said softly, her voice muffled against me.
“I know,” I replied, my chin resting lightly against her hair.
“I don’t know what tomorrow looks like,” she added.
“I won’t ask you to,” I said.
She pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were red, but steady.
“I love you,” she said. “But I won’t disappear for you again.”
Something in my chest loosened, not broken, not burned.
“I don’t want you to,” I said. “I want you exactly like this.”
She searched my face, not for promises, but for pressure.She found none.
“I’m not promising forever,” she warned.
I nodded. “I’m not asking for it.”
“I might change,” she said.
“I’ll change too,” I replied. “We’ll just… keep choosing.”
Her lips curved into the smallest smile.
Then she rested her forehead against mine, gentle, intentional.
“Stay,” she said. Not as a demand. As a choice.
“I’m here,” I answered. “Today.”
She nodded once, satisfied.
And standing there, under her window, wrapped in her arms, I understood something with absolute clarity:
Love doesn’t arrive loudly. It doesn’t declare ownership. It doesn’t demand guarantees.
Sometimes, love just runs down the stairs, wraps itself around you, and says—
I choose you. Not forever. Just honestly.
And that was enough.
Ruhi’s POV
I felt him before I saw him.
That strange pull in my chest is not urgency, not fear, just awareness. Like something steady had arrived and was waiting without knocking too loudly.
When I opened the balcony door and saw him standing there, looking up at me like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hope, I didn’t think so. I just knew.
By the time I reached the front door, my heartbeat was loud enough to drown out every doubt I’d ever had.
I didn’t ask him why he came. I didn’t ask what he planned to say.
I wrapped my arms around him instead.
He held me back carefully, like he was still asking permission even now. That made something inside me soften completely. This wasn’t the kind of hug that swallowed you whole. It didn’t erase me. It didn’t trap me.
It held me.
I rested my cheek against his shoulder and realized something quietly astonishing I wasn’t bracing myself for anything. Not disappointment. Not loss. Not the moment where I would need to pull away to survive.
I could stay.
“I read it,” he said softly near my hair, not as a claim, not as proof just as fact.
I nodded. My fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. “Then you know,” I replied.
“Yes,” he said. And then, after a pause that mattered, “And I choose you too. Not to own your future. Not to promise certainty. Just to walk with you however you let me.”
There was no rush in his voice. No fear of me changing my mind.
That was when I understood this was real.
Love didn’t feel like safety because someone was shielding me anymore. It felt like safety because I was allowed to move freely even away and still be met with respect.
I pulled back just enough to look at him.
“This doesn’t mean I’ll always be strong,” I said.
“I know,” he replied.
“And I won’t always be sure.”
“I know.”
“And some days I’ll choose silence.”
He smiled then. Not relief. Not victory. Just recognition. “I’ll listen anyway.”
I hugged him again tighter this time not because I needed him to hold me together, but because I wanted him close.
For the first time in my life, love didn’t feel like something I had to earn or endure.
It felt like something I was allowed to step into.
On my terms.
THE END
Author’s Note
Thank you for staying till the end of Ruhi and Aayansh’s story.
This book was never about grand promises or perfect love it was about choosing, healing, and learning how to stand beside someone without owning them.
If this story made you feel something, even quietly, then it has done its job.
This is the last chapter of this book, but not the last story I want to tell.
Thank you for reading.
For holding these characters gently. And for choosing to stay.
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