A Story Without You

Chapter 4: Pretending Everything is Fine

Aarav spent the next few days in a fog of confusion, replaying the conversation with Siya in his mind until the words lost all meaning. Every time he thought about her saying he was special, a bitter taste filled his mouth. He knew the truth now, or at least part of it. But knowing something and accepting it were two different battles, and Aarav wasn’t ready to lose this war.

He avoided Neeraj’s questioning looks and ignored the tightness in his chest every time Siya texted or called. But pretending was easier than facing the reality of what he felt, easier than acknowledging that the foundation of what they had might be cracked. He met Siya a few times after their talk, letting her fill the silence with stories, laughter, and the brightness he had always adored about her. When she leaned close and whispered, “You’re my favorite, you know?”, he managed to smile, even if it felt like he was playing a part he no longer believed in.

One evening, they sat at their usual spot in the library, books open but forgotten as Siya animatedly recounted her latest class project. Aarav nodded along, trying to focus on her words and not on the nagging voice in his mind reminding him that he’d seen her use that same enthuSiyasm with Rohit and Arjun. His grip on his pencil tightened, pressing hard enough to leave a faint dent on his fingertip.

“So, what do you think, Aarav?” Siya asked, tilting her head with a grin that once would have made him feel invincible.

“Sounds great,” he replied, his voice hollow. She blinked, the grin faltering as she noticed the emptiness in his tone.

“Hey, are you okay? You seem... distant lately,” she said, her brows drawing together in a small frown.

Aarav met her gaze and forced a smile. “Just tired, I guess. Long week.”

Siya reached across the table and placed her hand on his, her touch warm and familiar. “You know I’m here for you, right?”

The irony was almost too much. He wanted to pull his hand away, but that would mean acknowledging the weight in the room that neither of them wanted to name. Instead, he nodded and muttered, “Yeah, I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the noise of pages turning and whispers filling the gap between them. Siya eventually moved her hand back, looking down at her book as if she could pretend, too. The thing was, Aarav wasn’t sure if she even knew how deep the pretense went for him.

As days turned into weeks, Aarav’s act became second nature. He laughed at her jokes, showed up for their late-night walks, and even let himself feel a flicker of hope when she told him, “You’re the only one I can talk to like this.” But that hope was paper-thin, threatening to tear at the slightest pressure.

The campus festival came around, a bright flurry of lights, music, and laughter that spilled across the grounds in waves. Siya was at the center of it all, helping to coordinate events and jumping from group to group, spreading her contagious energy. Aarav watched her from a distance, Neeraj at his side.

“You’re still not over it, are you?” Neeraj said, not unkindly.

Aarav glanced at him, then back at Siya, who was twirling under the lanterns with a group of friends, her laughter ringing out like a melody. “I don’t know how to be,” he admitted quietly.

Neeraj sighed, crossing his arms. “You know this isn’t healthy, right? Pretending everything’s okay when you’re breaking apart inside? It’s like you’re holding onto a rope that’s already frayed. At some point, you’re going to fall.”

Aarav’s eyes followed Siya as she moved to another circle, laughing with someone he didn’t recognize. The ache in his chest pulsed. “Maybe,” he whispered, the weight of the admission pressing down on him like a storm cloud.

For the rest of the evening, Aarav drifted through the festival like a ghost, half-present and half-lost in thoughts he couldn’t escape. He watched Siya dance with friends, watched her speak to Rohit with a smile that was too familiar, and felt the cracks inside him widen. The realization hit him like a wave: he was clinging to an illusion, something that felt real but was empty at its core.

That night, Aarav lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the events of the day swirling in his mind. The silence was suffocating, filled with the things he refused to say out loud. He turned his phone over in his hands, scrolling through messages from Siya, the words on the screen now feeling like echoes from someone else’s life.

“You’re special, Aarav.”

He closed his eyes, finally letting a tear slip free. He had tried so hard to hold on to that idea, to pretend that those words meant more than they did, but he couldn’t pretend forever. Something had to change. He had to choose between losing himself or finding a way to let go, no matter how much it hurt.

As he drifted into restless sleep, Aarav knew what he had to do, even if the thought of it felt like the sharpest pain of all.

Continued....