Yesterday, 11:32 PM
Scene 20: The Shawl Curtain (Fourth Day: Late Evening)
The forest had settled into a soft hush after the rain, the only sound the rhythmic dripping of water from the leaves, punctuating the silence with each gentle drop.
As Naveen and Kavya made their way back to the hut, the sky had deepened to a dusky violet, and the air was crisp, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of wet soil. The trail beneath their feet was slick, but the quiet seemed to pull them forward, as though the world around them had paused, waiting.
By the time they reached the hut, the light had all but faded, and the evening chill was settling in. Naveen moved quickly, sparking the fire with deliberate focus, coaxing it to life. The flames caught, sending a flicker of warmth across the small, dim room.
The firelight reflected off the rough-hewn walls, its amber glow soft and inviting, but the hut was too small to allow much distance between them.
Kavya stepped inside, rubbing her chilled arms as she closed the door behind her. Her clothes clung to her skin, damp from the rain, and her body shivered slightly as she adjusted to the warmth of the room.
The fire crackled and hissed, its flames casting flickering shadows that danced across their faces, but despite the heat from the fire, the air was still cool, the dampness of their clothes a constant reminder of the afternoon downpour.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved, aware of the quiet space they shared, aware of the distance, or lack thereof. They stood there, side by side, the quiet almost palpable.
“We should… probably dry everything,” Kavya said softly, not meeting his eyes, her voice almost lost beneath the crackle of the flames.
Naveen nodded, his gaze drifting from the fire to her. “Yes. But it’s getting cold. We’ll need to stay close to the fire to get warm.”
There was a slight pause, not uncomfortable, but filled with an unspoken understanding that they were both aware of. They were alone here, yes, but they were also together, and the space between them was small. The thought lingered like a quiet tension.
Her eyes drifted to the shawl, neatly folded in the corner by the door, and she hesitated before speaking again. “Maybe we could use that,” she suggested gently. “As a divider. Just… to give each other a little space.”
The forest had settled into a soft hush after the rain, the only sound the rhythmic dripping of water from the leaves, punctuating the silence with each gentle drop.
As Naveen and Kavya made their way back to the hut, the sky had deepened to a dusky violet, and the air was crisp, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of wet soil. The trail beneath their feet was slick, but the quiet seemed to pull them forward, as though the world around them had paused, waiting.
By the time they reached the hut, the light had all but faded, and the evening chill was settling in. Naveen moved quickly, sparking the fire with deliberate focus, coaxing it to life. The flames caught, sending a flicker of warmth across the small, dim room.
The firelight reflected off the rough-hewn walls, its amber glow soft and inviting, but the hut was too small to allow much distance between them.
Kavya stepped inside, rubbing her chilled arms as she closed the door behind her. Her clothes clung to her skin, damp from the rain, and her body shivered slightly as she adjusted to the warmth of the room.
The fire crackled and hissed, its flames casting flickering shadows that danced across their faces, but despite the heat from the fire, the air was still cool, the dampness of their clothes a constant reminder of the afternoon downpour.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved, aware of the quiet space they shared, aware of the distance, or lack thereof. They stood there, side by side, the quiet almost palpable.
“We should… probably dry everything,” Kavya said softly, not meeting his eyes, her voice almost lost beneath the crackle of the flames.
Naveen nodded, his gaze drifting from the fire to her. “Yes. But it’s getting cold. We’ll need to stay close to the fire to get warm.”
There was a slight pause, not uncomfortable, but filled with an unspoken understanding that they were both aware of. They were alone here, yes, but they were also together, and the space between them was small. The thought lingered like a quiet tension.
Her eyes drifted to the shawl, neatly folded in the corner by the door, and she hesitated before speaking again. “Maybe we could use that,” she suggested gently. “As a divider. Just… to give each other a little space.”
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