A Season Of Silence

He stands by the window, back turned, as if distance is the only promise he can keep.

"You don't have to be afraid," Avinash says, voice even and detached.

"Nothing will happen between us." He adds as an afterthought.

Manyata nods, though fear is not what tightens her chest.

She sits on the edge of the bed because it feels safer there; colder, smaller, easier to disappear in. When her bangles slip down her wrist and clink softly, he frowns with discomfort.

"This marriage," he continues, still not looking at her, "exists on paper. Don't expect anything more."

She presses her palms into the bed, fisting the cover to stop them from shaking.

"Okay," she whispers.

It is the only word she has left.

Outside, the house sleeps, satisfied. Inside the room, a girl learns how loneliness can exist even in the presence of another human being.

Neither of them knows yet how much this silence will cost.