Close!

He smiled before getting into the car.

Not a broad smile—just a slight curve at the corner of his lips. Mischievous. Knowing. The kind that felt intentional, as though he already understood the shift happening between us. When he slid into the back seat beside me, the space changed. The air felt heavier, warmer—charged in a way I didn’t know how to name.

He sat close enough for me to sense him without looking. His dusky skin, his neatly kept beard, the clean, subtle fragrance clinging to him—it lingered, wrapping around me softly, like a presence that refused to stay unnoticed. God had been unfairly careful while shaping him. Nothing felt excessive. Everything felt right.

For a few seconds, silence held us.

Then my mom spoke.

“So… how do you know each other?”

“We just met,” he said.

Simple. Honest. Dangerous.

I felt my mother’s eyes on me through the mirror, though she didn’t turn around. Talking to strangers had always worried her—especially men. My mind scrambled, preparing excuses, stories, justifications. But she didn’t ask more.

“Where should we drop you?” she said instead.

“If possible, Ravoor bus stop.”

“That’s on our way. What do you do?”

“I work in the biomedical field—as a technician,” he replied. “Still learning.”

“And where do you live?”

“Sintal.”

“Oh, that’s close to us. We have relatives there.”

The conversation flowed, ordinary and polite, but beneath it, something else pulsed—quiet, unacknowledged. A connection that didn’t ask for permission.

My brother interrupted.

“Mummy, we need to stop here and collect the food.”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she said. “Go and get it. I’ve already paid.”

As he stepped out and Mom focused on her phone, the car fell into a different kind of silence—one that belonged only to us.

Nivin leaned forward slightly, opening his black office bag, searching for something. I watched him without meaning to. The way he moved—unhurried, grounded—felt intimate in itself.

I raised my eyebrows, questioning.

“Do you have a note?” he asked quietly. “I’ll GPay you.”

I nodded. “How much?”

“Fifty.”

I handed him the note.

Our fingers touched.

It was brief—barely there—but it sent a slow, deliberate warmth through me. I felt it travel, settle, stay. I went still, caught in the aftermath of something so small yet unsettling. He lifted his phone, gesturing for my QR code. I didn’t react immediately—lost, suspended—until he repeated the gesture gently.

Every movement of his felt intentional. Unrushed. Aware.

The car started moving.

Only then did I open my UPI app. By the time he scanned the code and transferred the amount, we were already nearing the bus stop.

Too soon.

My chest tightened, the heaviness returning—not sharp, just deep. He thanked my mom sincerely, then turned toward me. He didn’t smile this time. He simply looked at me, steady and unguarded.

There was something in his gaze—recognition, maybe. Or hesitation. Or the same quiet wish that sat heavy in my own chest: let this last.

But moments don’t ask for permission before ending.

And as the car slowed, I realised something gently, painfully true—

Some people enter your life without warning, not to stay,

but to leave a feeling behind.

And sometimes, that is enough.

...****************...

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