18-06-2025, 12:50 AM
Monday Morning – A Seat Left Empty
The bus stop was quiet, coated in the soft hush that only early mornings can carry.
A light breeze moved through the trees lining the road, the sky still bruised with pre-sunrise blue.
Abhi stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at nothing in particular.
The bus hadn’t arrived yet.
But more than that—she hadn’t.
He glanced once toward the apartment gate.
No cream saree fluttering in the wind.
No quiet footsteps beside him.
No subtle perfume that lingered in the morning air.
His chest tightened in that strange way it does when something you didn’t expect becomes something you start hoping for. He hadn’t expected her to be there. But still…
His phone buzzed with a Slack notification. He ignored it.
He unlocked the screen anyway, opened the WhatsApp chat with Madhavi, stared at the blank message box for a few seconds, and then locked the phone again.
Maybe she left early.
Maybe she didn’t sleep well.
Maybe she just needed space.
Or maybe—like him—she was still inside that kiss, still listening to the echo of her name whispered between breaths.
The bus arrived with a soft screech.
He climbed on, took the seat they usually shared when it was empty, and stared out the window as the trees rolled by.
The space beside him felt quieter than usual.
And somehow, it made him feel more alive than anything else.
The bus stop was quiet, coated in the soft hush that only early mornings can carry.
A light breeze moved through the trees lining the road, the sky still bruised with pre-sunrise blue.
Abhi stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at nothing in particular.
The bus hadn’t arrived yet.
But more than that—she hadn’t.
He glanced once toward the apartment gate.
No cream saree fluttering in the wind.
No quiet footsteps beside him.
No subtle perfume that lingered in the morning air.
His chest tightened in that strange way it does when something you didn’t expect becomes something you start hoping for. He hadn’t expected her to be there. But still…
His phone buzzed with a Slack notification. He ignored it.
He unlocked the screen anyway, opened the WhatsApp chat with Madhavi, stared at the blank message box for a few seconds, and then locked the phone again.
Maybe she left early.
Maybe she didn’t sleep well.
Maybe she just needed space.
Or maybe—like him—she was still inside that kiss, still listening to the echo of her name whispered between breaths.
The bus arrived with a soft screech.
He climbed on, took the seat they usually shared when it was empty, and stared out the window as the trees rolled by.
The space beside him felt quieter than usual.
And somehow, it made him feel more alive than anything else.
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