“Things We Left on Read”

Some truths don’t need to be spoken —

they just sit between two people,

like furniture neither one will move.

The rain had been threatening all morning, heavy clouds dragging the light out of the sky. The air had that metallic smell it gets before a downpour, and people on the platform clutched their umbrellas like talismans.

I balanced my bag on my shoulder, coffee in one hand and my internship file in the other — pages clipped neatly. Or so I thought.

The platform was slick. My heel slid just enough for my fingers to loosen. The file slipped, papers scattering like startled pigeons, skimming across the wet concrete. My stomach dropped — resume drafts, project notes, even random napkin scribbles I’d been hoarding like treasure.

I bent down, cursing under my breath. Before I could reach the first page, someone else did.

Aariv.

He picked it up with the same calm precision I remembered, straightening the page without even glancing at me. The corner was already smudged from the damp.

“Still clumsy, huh?” His voice carried that familiar mix — light enough to sound casual, but weighted just enough to stick.

I took the page from him, fingers brushing his for a fraction of a second. “Some things don’t change,” I said, trying to sound as effortless as he did.

His mouth curved slightly — not quite a smile, not quite nothing. “And some do,” he replied, eyes finally meeting mine.

For a moment, the rain-scented air felt thicker. We hadn’t stood this close in years, and I didn’t have to ask. I knew — just as he knew — that we’d both dated other people since we’d last been us.

I remembered Pune, second year. Saying yes to someone I liked enough but didn’t love. Smiling for photos, laughing at jokes, all while the comparison gnawed quietly at me. He wasn’t Aariv.

And I knew — without him ever saying it — that Aariv had his own lineup of short-lived connections. Girls who maybe liked him too much or not enough, but never in the same way.

“That’s yours,” he said, tucking another sheet into my hand.

“Thanks.”

“Careful,” he added, though his tone was softer now.

“I’m trying,” I said. And I wasn’t sure if we were still talking about the papers.

A man brushed past us, muttering something about blocking the way. We stepped aside in unison — muscle memory. I knelt to grab the last page, but Aariv was already handing it to me.

“Guess some things really don’t change,” he murmured.

“You mean me dropping things or you picking them up?” I shot back.

“Both.” His eyes lingered just a fraction too long before he looked away.

The train pulled in with a low roar. We stepped inside together, finding space near the doors. The crowd pressed in, the damp air clinging to us. Neither of us spoke, but every stop felt like it could be the one where we said something that would tip the balance.

Halfway to my station, he finally broke the silence. “So… internship?”

“Yeah. Big day. Presentation.” I gestured toward the rescued file. “Kind of needed this intact.”

“Still over-preparing?”

“Still underestimating me?”

His laugh was short, almost reluctant. “Touché.”

The train lurched, and I grabbed the pole. My hand was inches from his. Too close to be accidental, too far to bridge without meaning it.

We rode the rest of the way in a strange truce — not bitter, not exactly sweet. Just… there. Like a conversation we’d both decided not to have.

When my stop came, I adjusted my bag. “Thanks for—”

“Anytime,” he said quickly, as if he didn’t want me to finish.

I stepped onto the platform, the doors sliding shut between us. Through the glass, he gave the smallest nod, one I returned before the train pulled away.

Some truths don’t need to be spoken. They just stay, quietly, like rain that never quite falls.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***