Karan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he parked his car along a deserted stretch of road. The silence in the car seemed to close in on him, thick and suffocating, amplifying the turmoil churning inside him. His jaw clenched as the frustration bubbled over, his mind replaying the events with Meera again and again, each replay sparking a fresh surge of anger and confusion.
With a sudden, furious motion, he slammed his fist against the dashboard, the dull thud of impact reverberating through the car. “Why does she have to be like this?” he yelled, his voice echoing into the empty road beyond, his breath coming in harsh gasps as if he’d been running a marathon.
He let his head drop back against the seat, staring at the car’s ceiling, frustration still twisting through him. How could she be so calm, so detached, after everything that had happened? She was the girl who saved his life, the girl he’d been searching for all these months. And now that he knew… she brushed it off as if it meant nothing.
The anger masked something deeper, something he was almost afraid to acknowledge. His growing feelings for her — feelings that had started long before this revelation. He’d tried to ignore them, brushing them off as a simple fascination with her calm and mysterious demeanor. But he couldn’t deny it anymore; he was feeling more than fascination. And it was terrifying, maddening.
“Why, Meera?” he whispered hoarsely, gripping the steering wheel again. “Why can’t I just understand you?”
For a few minutes, he sat there, breathing heavily, trying to gather himself. But each thought led him back to the same realization: he couldn’t just walk away from her. Not now.
With renewed resolve, he started the car, pulling back onto the road with one clear thought in his mind: he was going to get answers from her — whether she liked it or not.
---
The next day, Karan arrived on campus, a simmering determination in his eyes as he scanned the grounds. When he finally spotted her by the banyan tree, sitting with her usual calm and quiet demeanor, something in him snapped. It felt wrong, almost unfair, how composed she could be when he felt like he was unraveling.
Ignoring the nervousness that tinged his resolve, he approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. Meera looked up, meeting his gaze, and there was a flash of recognition — and something he couldn’t quite read — in her eyes.
“You can keep acting like it’s nothing, Meera,” he said, voice low and laced with frustration. “But it isn’t nothing to me. Not anymore.”
---
Karan watched as Meera looked up from her book, her expression composed, almost indifferent, as though his accusations from the day before hadn’t even left a dent. She carefully closed the book and placed it on her lap, her gaze meeting his. For a brief moment, he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes — maybe apprehension, maybe curiosity — but it quickly faded, replaced by her usual calm.
“Karan,” she said quietly, a note of caution in her voice. “What do you want me to say?”
The question hit him harder than he’d expected. A fresh surge of frustration welled up inside him, but he tried to keep his voice steady, resisting the temptation to let his anger spill over. “I want you to be honest with me, Meera. I want to know why you did it. Why you saved me and then never said a word. Why… you keep pushing me away.”
She studied him, her gaze steady, yet there was a hint of something softer now, as if she’d anticipated this confrontation. “Karan, I helped you because you needed help. And I didn’t say anything because… I didn’t think it mattered.” Her voice was calm, almost clinical, but something in her tone suggested she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe.
He felt his frustration harden into something more painful. “It would’ve mattered to me, Meera. You don’t understand what it’s like, not knowing who helped me, not knowing why. And now… now that I know, you brush it off like it’s nothing.”
A shadow crossed her face, and her gaze dropped for a moment, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap. “Maybe I didn’t want you to feel indebted, Karan,” she murmured. “I don’t like owing or being owed anything.” She looked back up, her gaze sharpening. “I don’t need recognition.”
He gave a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “But it’s not about recognition. It’s about honesty. Every time I try to get close, I feel like I’m staring at a wall.”
She stiffened, her composure momentarily cracking, her body language growing tense, defensive. It was subtle, but he noticed it, and for a fleeting second, he glimpsed a vulnerability in her that she usually kept hidden.
A small silence stretched between them, and he let out a long breath. “Why are you so afraid to let me in, Meera?”
She looked away, her voice barely a whisper. “Because sometimes… people get close for the wrong reasons.”
Her words hung heavily in the air, and Karan’s frustration softened, replaced by a pang of realization. He was starting to see it — that her silence wasn’t just indifference, but a defense mechanism. Perhaps her reluctance to let him in wasn’t about him at all.
“Meera,” he said quietly, taking a step forward. “I’m not like that. I’m not here to hurt you.”
But she shook her head, as if his words couldn’t break through her wall. Her lips pressed tightly together, she looked away, her body rigid. “People say that,” she murmured, her voice low and guarded. “But… sometimes, they don’t mean it.”
Tentatively, he reached out, his hand hovering over her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, to bridge the gap between them. But before he could make contact, she flinched, instinctively taking a step back, her face turned away. The motion was involuntary, a sudden reaction, but it was enough for Karan to understand just how deep her fears ran.
In that moment, he realized she wasn’t just distant — she was terrified of being vulnerable. Somewhere in her past, she’d learned that trust could lead to hurt, and that getting close to people often came with strings attached.
“Meera,” he said softly, lowering his hand, his tone less demanding now, more gentle. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not anymore.”
She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. “Karan, it’s not that simple. It’s not always… safe, to let people in.”
The words were laced with a quiet sorrow, and he felt a pang of empathy. She wasn’t trying to hurt him; she was protecting herself. For the first time, he felt a glimpse of the loneliness that lurked beneath her calm demeanor, of the years of isolation that had built her walls so high.
“You don’t have to do it alone, Meera,” he said gently. “I know… I’m not perfect, but I’m here. If you ever want to try.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, and he saw a flicker of something — maybe acceptance, maybe understanding. But her shoulders tensed, her gaze shifting somewhere beyond him, lost in thoughts he couldn’t reach.
“Maybe,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, “but I can’t take that chance. Not yet.”
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, his hand still raised, feeling as if he’d glimpsed a side of her he might never fully understand.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Vows
RomanceKaran Kapoor has always lived life on his own terms-charming, confident, and a notorious playboy who never took anything too seriously. Relationships were just a game to him, and emotions were something he could easily brush aside. That is, until a...
