08-07-2025, 12:25 PM
Thursday Night: The Things He Can’t Say
The ceiling fan spun in slow, tired circles above him.
The shadows of its blades rippled across the wall like soft, hypnotic waves.
The bedside lamp was off.
His phone screen, dimmed, showed 11:02 PM before going black.
Ravi lay on his back, one arm under his head, the other resting across his chest.
He’d been still for a while now—no scrolling, no music, no distractions.
Just his thoughts, stretching quietly into the dark.
He could hear the occasional creak of wood from the kitchen shelves.
The distant hum of a water pump somewhere in the building.
The night breeze rustling faintly through the balcony grill.
And somewhere beyond the hallway, her door.
Closed. Quiet. Like it always was.
But he knew she was inside.
It was strange, how just the awareness of another person’s presence could keep you so alert.
So awake. So... drawn.
He wasn’t used to this. Not so quickly. Not this intensely.
He’d only been here three days.
And yet
The way she smiled when she didn’t have to.
The way she listened—not just heard, but truly listened.
The way she walked across the room as if the air had to adjust to her rhythm.
And her face, lit by the golden light of the dining lamp, eyes soft and clever, lips carrying more quiet truth than she ever spoke aloud.
She wasn’t trying to be anything.
That’s what unsettled him the most.
She wasn’t trying to be beautiful. Or kind. Or graceful.
She just was.
And that made her impossible to ignore.
Ravi let out a slow breath.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong.
They hadn’t crossed a line.
It was all innocent.
A few conversations. Some smiles. Shared meals. Laughter.
But what he felt tonight
When they stood together in the kitchen, drying plates in silence, it hadn’t felt innocent.
It had felt... inevitable.
He turned onto his side now, facing the wall. His fingers curled near his cheek, his breath steady, but his heart wasn’t still.
He could still feel the faint scent of her
Something soft, floral, barely there
Lingering in the air after she’d walked away.
He closed his eyes.
Not to sleep.
Just to keep from imagining her door opening in the dark.
-- oOo --
.
The ceiling fan spun in slow, tired circles above him.
The shadows of its blades rippled across the wall like soft, hypnotic waves.
The bedside lamp was off.
His phone screen, dimmed, showed 11:02 PM before going black.
Ravi lay on his back, one arm under his head, the other resting across his chest.
He’d been still for a while now—no scrolling, no music, no distractions.
Just his thoughts, stretching quietly into the dark.
He could hear the occasional creak of wood from the kitchen shelves.
The distant hum of a water pump somewhere in the building.
The night breeze rustling faintly through the balcony grill.
And somewhere beyond the hallway, her door.
Closed. Quiet. Like it always was.
But he knew she was inside.
It was strange, how just the awareness of another person’s presence could keep you so alert.
So awake. So... drawn.
He wasn’t used to this. Not so quickly. Not this intensely.
He’d only been here three days.
And yet
The way she smiled when she didn’t have to.
The way she listened—not just heard, but truly listened.
The way she walked across the room as if the air had to adjust to her rhythm.
And her face, lit by the golden light of the dining lamp, eyes soft and clever, lips carrying more quiet truth than she ever spoke aloud.
She wasn’t trying to be anything.
That’s what unsettled him the most.
She wasn’t trying to be beautiful. Or kind. Or graceful.
She just was.
And that made her impossible to ignore.
Ravi let out a slow breath.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong.
They hadn’t crossed a line.
It was all innocent.
A few conversations. Some smiles. Shared meals. Laughter.
But what he felt tonight
When they stood together in the kitchen, drying plates in silence, it hadn’t felt innocent.
It had felt... inevitable.
He turned onto his side now, facing the wall. His fingers curled near his cheek, his breath steady, but his heart wasn’t still.
He could still feel the faint scent of her
Something soft, floral, barely there
Lingering in the air after she’d walked away.
He closed his eyes.
Not to sleep.
Just to keep from imagining her door opening in the dark.
-- oOo --
.
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