The question she never asked..

Ira settled into the red velvet seat of the movie theater, the popcorn tub balanced between her and Kabir. The trailers had barely ended before Kabir leaned closer, mischief in his eyes.

"Look at the hero's waist line", he whispers, lips twitching. He's supposed to be saving the world, but I swear he looks like he just saved an entire plate of samosas.

Ira laugh bubbled out, too loud, drawing a sharp "shh!" from the row behind them. She ducked her head, biting her lip. " Stop it, Kabir! We'll get thrown out".

Unfazed Kabir leaned in again. " And the heroine - tell me she doesn't look exactly like Mrs. Sharma's daughter. The one who failed math every single year?"

Her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. " You are impossible."

" But you're smiling, aren't you?" he teased, nudging her with his elbow.

Their banter carried through the film, little whispers, little giggles, their childhood ease stitched into every exchange. It was comfortable - so natural that Ira almost forgot they weren't just two kids sharing secrets in class anymore.

Later, at a cozy café, Kabir stirred his coffee with exaggerated seriousness. "Do You even think we should've just skipped the movie and come straight here? Dessert is my true calling."

Ira raised an eyebrow. " You live for cake more than you live for me."

"cake never argue, " he shot back, eyes twinkling". But you? You steal my fries."

Their laughter filled the quiet corner, soft and warm. It was sweet, it was easy. And yet, for Ira, something in her chest stayed still. No sudden rush of magic, no sparks that stories promised - only comfort, steady and predictable

That night, in her room, she opened her drawer. The folded letter and the dried flower waited, shadows of a secret life she hadn't asked for. Her fingers traced the paper, her lips rambling with words she hadn't spoken aloud until now.

. " Kaun ho tum....? Kyu mujhe sab kuch bhejte ho? Kyu lagta hai jaise tum mujhe mujhse zyada jante ho...?"

(who are You? Why do you send me all these things?Whyy does it feel like you know me more than I know my self?)

Her voice cracked on the last word. She quickly shoved the letter back into hiding, heart thudding with fear. The thought of telling Kabir flitted across her mind, but she pushed it away. She could not bear to she disappointed in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Kabir, walking her home earlier, had paused under the streetlight. You know, "Ira", he had said lightly, almost shyly, "sometimes I still see you as that girl who used to scold me for breaking your crayons. And look at you now.... I wonder how I got this lucky."

Ira had only smiled. Unsure how to answer.

But far away, under the same stretch of night sky, Arnav walked alone. His eyes burned with longing, his chest heavy, Why does her laughter with someone else feel like it's breaking me? He pressed a hand against his ribs as though to hold himself together.

And still, tomorrow, he would leave her another flower.

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