Silent Echoes

Mira sat in the dimly lit living room, listening to the familiar sound of Raj’s keys turning in the lock. The door swung open, and he stepped inside, a trace of fatigue in his eyes.

“Raj,” she began softly, holding her voice steady, “we need to talk.”

He let out a sigh, already bracing himself. “What is it now, Mira?” he replied, sounding more weary than concerned.

She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I feel like I’m losing you, Raj. Like I don’t matter anymore. You spend all your time with Aryan, and when I reach out, you barely respond. It’s like… I don’t exist to you.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Mira, this again? I don’t know why you’re so dramatic. Aryan’s my friend. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s not about Aryan, Raj!” Her voice cracked, a flood of emotions spilling out. “It’s about how you’re never present with me. You’re always somewhere else, like I’m just… invisible.”

Raj crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Mira, you’re overthinking it. Just because I spend time with Aryan doesn’t mean I’m ignoring you. You need to stop making everything a big deal.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for even a flicker of understanding, but his expression remained distant, almost cold. She felt her chest tighten as she forced herself to speak.

“All I’m asking, Raj, is for you to see me. To listen. To care that this is hurting me.”

He shook his head dismissively, looking away. “Honestly, Mira, I think you’re being unfair. Not everything revolves around what you need from me. I’m allowed to have my own space, my own friends.”

A silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. Mira stared at him, waiting, hoping for him to say something – anything – to bridge the growing distance. But he only shifted his weight, his gaze fixed somewhere past her, like he was already miles away.

Finally, she took a shaky breath, realizing the weight of her own words. “Raj, do you even want this to work?”

He looked at her, almost surprised by the question. For a brief moment, he seemed ready to respond, but then he simply shrugged, his face hardening. “I don’t know what you want from me, Mira. I’m not here to fix every little thing you’re unhappy about.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, standing up. “Then maybe it’s time I stop waiting for you to see me, Raj. Because right now, I feel like a ghost in my own life.”

Without another word, she turned and walked down the hall to their bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Inside, she leaned against the wall, letting the quiet fill the space around her, the weight of his indifference settling in her chest.

In the living room, Raj stood in the silence, unmoved but with a faint, unspoken discomfort. He felt her absence, but he couldn’t find it in himself to reach out. Instead, he walked to the couch, sinking into it, and picked up his phone, messaging Aryan like it was just another night.

And from that night forward, they lived under the same roof but with worlds between them – Mira’s silent echoes filling the spaces that once held promises, now empty with indifference.