Far Yet Forever

Chapter 21

"Sometimes, the heart finds peace in moments it knows can't last."

The car was quiet, an almost heavy silence settling between us. The city lights flashed past as we drove, casting fleeting shadows on Arjun’s face. My head was spinning—not just from the alcohol but from everything I felt, everything I couldn’t say.

I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to catch my breath. But when I opened them, I found Arjun’s gaze on me, intense and unwavering. For a moment, we just looked at each other, no words, no need for explanations. Slowly, he leaned closer, his eyes searching mine, and I found myself doing the same. I didn’t want to think about the past or the mistakes; I just wanted to be here, with him, in this second.

But just as our faces were inches apart, the driver’s voice cut through the silence. “We’ve reached the destination,” he announced, snapping us back to reality.

I felt my cheeks flush as we broke apart, both of us turning away, pretending like nothing had just happened.

He helped me out of the taxi, his arm firm around my shoulders as he guided me to my apartment door. My legs felt heavy, my mind clouded, but his presence was grounding. As we reached the door, I suddenly felt the urge to hold onto him, as if he was the only thing keeping me steady.

I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his warmth seep through me. I didn’t want to let go. “Stay… just stay…” I murmured, the words slipping out without thought.

But before he could respond, exhaustion took over, and my head rested against his chest. I felt his arms wrap around me, steady, comforting, as I drifted off into the quiet, safe in his hold.

The room was quiet, filled only with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting delicate shadows around us. Arjun’s gaze lingered on me, steady yet full of unspoken understanding, as if he saw everything I was feeling but couldn’t put into words. Slowly, he reached for my hand, holding it gently, and I felt a warmth and comfort that had been missing from my life.

Our lips met again, soft and tentative, as though we were both testing the waters of a love we didn’t want to name. His kiss deepened, and we drew closer, each touch and caress expressing the feelings we hadn’t said aloud. My heart raced as his hands slowly moved up my back, his fingers delicate but certain as they traced familiar paths.

He looked at me, silently asking for permission, and I nodded, feeling safe and understood in his presence. Together, we moved in a quiet, graceful rhythm, shedding the barriers between us—both emotional and physical—as he slowly removed my sweater, his touch never losing its gentleness. I reached for him too, our movements slow and respectful, as if we were trying to memorize this moment, piece by piece.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, we shared a closeness that went beyond words, our connection as pure as it was intense. Each touch, each gentle embrace held a quiet vulnerability, the kind that comes only from truly being seen. I felt a peace that I hadn’t known in so long, a sense of belonging that quieted my mind and softened the ache in my heart.

But as the first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, the reality of the world outside found its way back to me. I took a shaky breath and gently pulled back, the weight of the moment settling over me. “You should go,” I whispered, the words breaking the silence like a gentle but necessary release.

He hesitated, his eyes holding mine, searching for words he couldn’t find. But then he nodded, a quiet understanding passing between us as he collected his things. As the door closed behind him, I sat alone, feeling both the warmth of what we had shared and the ache of letting go, knowing that some memories, no matter how brief, would stay with me forever.