Aira reached home.
Everything was the same.
Same room.
Same walls.
Same silence.
But something felt different.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Aarohi.
Aarohi,
"Are you reached?"
Aira looked at the screen for a moment.
Then replied,
"Yes. Just now. Don't worry. I reached safely."
Aarohi,
"Okay. Go rest well."
Aira smiled faintly.
Aira,
"Yes, madam."
That was it.
Such simple messages.
But both of them knew—
there was so much more they didn't say.
Aira's POV
Aira lay down for a while.
Trying to rest.
But her mind didn't rest.
The next day—
everything went back to routine.
Her work.
Her lab.
Her cases.
The things she loved the most.
She stood there—
looking at the files.
At the evidence.
At the work she once enjoyed deeply.
But today—
it felt different.
Heavy.
Distant.
Her lab work—
felt like labour.
Something she had to do—
not something she wanted to do.
She paused.
For no reason.
Or maybe—
for one reason.
"Something is missing…"
She already knew what it was.
But she didn't want to accept it.
"Aarohi."
She closed her eyes for a second.
Memories came back.
Her voice.
Her smile.
Those small moments.
Aira took a deep breath—
and got back to work.
Because she loved it.
And maybe—
keeping herself busy—
was easier than feeling everything.
Aarohi's POV
After Aira left—
everything felt… strange.
Not empty.
Not broken.
Just incomplete.
Aarohi sat in her room—
surrounded by the things she loved.
Her books.
Her journal.
Her unfinished pages.
But something was missing.
And she knew what it was.
Aira.
She didn't say it out loud.
Didn't even want to accept it fully.
She picked up her pen—
and started writing.
Words came.
But not the way they used to.
Every line—
somehow—
turned into her.
Without trying—
Aira was there.
In her sentences.
In her pauses.
In her silence.
She kept writing.
Because that's what she always did.
Turn feelings into words.
But this time—
words weren't enough.
Sometimes—
she would stop in the middle of writing.
Just stare at the page.
And think about those moments.
Walking together.
Laughing.
Sitting in silence.
She wasn't living in the present.
She was reliving those days—
again and again.
Everything she loved—
slowly started feeling different.
Her work.
Her writing.
Even her own thoughts.
Nothing gave her the same feeling.
The same comfort.
The same peace.
"Why does everything feel so distant?"
She knew the answer.
But she didn't want to accept it.
Because accepting it meant—
admitting—
that she missed Aira.
More than she should.
More than she allowed herself to.
So she stayed quiet.
Ignored it.
Pretended everything was normal.
But inside—
nothing was normal.
She was disturbed.
By a feeling—
she couldn't control.
And somewhere—
she knew—
Aira was feeling the same.
That night—
Aarohi opened her journal again.
The same one—
where she wrote everything she couldn't say out loud.
She turned a few pages.
Blank.
Half-written.
Messy thoughts.
Then slowly—
she started writing.
"I met someone…"
She stopped.
Crossed it out.
"No…"
She took a breath—
and wrote again.
"I met a feeling…"
Her hand paused.
Because she knew—
this wasn't just a memory.
It was something more.
She continued—
"She felt like home…"
"And now…"
The pen stopped moving.
A drop fell on the page.
A tear.
Aarohi looked at it—
quietly.
Then closed the journal.
Because some things—
are too heavy to finish.
At the same time—
Aira stood near her window.
Looking at the moon.
Just like she always did.
But tonight—
it felt different.
She wasn't searching anymore.
Because now—
she knew—
What she was missing.