Getting Over Him

Chaotic

Pat's P.O.V:

The room falls silent, save for the sound of our breathing, synced in a rhythm that feels like the only constant in our chaotic lives. Pran's hands are still gripping mine, his warmth grounding me, even as my mind races with all the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. But his eyes—those deep, dark brown eyes—are steady, unwavering. They remind me why I fell for him in the first place. Not just because of his smile or his laugh, but because of this: his unshakable resolve, his refusal to let the world break us apart.

"Okay," I say finally, my voice firmer now. "If we're staying, we need a plan. We can't just sit here and wait for them to come for us."

Pran nods, his expression shifting from determination to focus. He steps back slightly, though his hand stays intertwined with mine, as if he's afraid to let go. "First, we need to figure out how much they know. Paa said they're on the lookout for us, but what does that mean? Are they tracking us? Watching the house? Or is it just rumors?"

I swallow hard, trying to push down the panic that threatens to rise again. "I don't know. Paa didn't say much, just that they're getting closer. But if they're already this close, it's only a matter of time before they find us."

Pran's jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he starts pacing the room, his free hand running through his hair as he thinks. "We need to be smarter than them. If they're watching us, we need to throw them off. Maybe we can lay low for a while—stay out of sight, avoid our usual spots. And we need to talk to Paa. If she knows something, we need to know everything."

I nod, though the thought of involving Paa more than she already is makes my stomach churn. She's already risked so much for us. "What if they're watching her too? What if talking to her puts her in more danger?"

Pran stops pacing and turns to face me, his expression softening. "Paa's strong, Pat. She wouldn't have told us if she wasn't prepared for the consequences. But you're right—we need to be careful. Maybe we can find a way to communicate with her without drawing attention."

I squeeze his hand, grateful for his calm, logical thinking. It's one of the things I've always admired about him—the way he can take a chaotic situation and break it down into manageable pieces. "Okay," I say again, feeling a little more in control. "We'll figure out a way to talk to Paa. And in the meantime, we'll lay low. No going out unless we absolutely have to. We'll keep the curtains closed, avoid using our phones unless it's necessary..."

Pran nods, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "See? We've got this. One step at a time."

But even as he says it, I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He's trying to stay strong for me, just like I'm trying to stay strong for him. And maybe that's enough—for now. We've always been at our best when we're together, when we're fighting side by side.

"One step at a time," I echo, pulling him closer again. His arms wrap around me, and for a moment, the world outside doesn't matter. It's just us, holding onto each other, holding onto the hope that we can make it through this.

But then, a sharp knock at the door shatters the moment. We freeze, our eyes locking in silent panic. The knock comes again, louder this time, more insistent.

Pran's grip on me tightens. "Don't answer it," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. But the knocking doesn't stop. It's relentless, echoing through the small apartment like a drumbeat. And then, a voice calls out—a voice that sends a chill down my spine.

"Pat? Pran? I know you're in there. Open the door."

It's not Paa. It's not anyone we can trust. And suddenly, the fragile hope we'd been clinging to feels like it's slipping through our fingers.

Pran's eyes meet mine again, and I can see the same thought reflected in them: This is it. They've found us.

But then, his jaw sets, and he gives me a small, determined nod. "Together," he whispers.

"Together," I repeat, and for the first time, I truly believe it. No matter what happens next, we'll face it—together.