---
**Chapter 4: The Distance Between Us**
Aanya had always imagined that walking away would bring relief. That packing a bag, shutting the door behind her, and leaving the suffocating silence of that apartment would feel like freedom.
But as she sat on the balcony of her parents' home, sipping tea, surrounded by familiar walls and her mother's idle humming from the kitchen, it didn't feel like escape.
It felt like a pause.
And pauses never lasted.
She had left five days ago. No note. No explanation. Just a bag packed while Arjun was still asleep, a cab summoned in hushed urgency, and the quiet click of the lock behind her. Her mother had opened the door in surprise, but said nothing. Maybe because she had expected it.
Her father, as usual, stayed out of it.
Her phone hadn't stopped buzzing for the first two days. Arjun's messages were calm. Controlled.
**"Let me know when you reach."**
**"You forgot your glasses on the kitchen counter."**
**"I made rajma today. You'd like it."**
Not once did he ask *why*. Not once did he say *come back*.
That, more than anything, made her nervous.
On the third day, the messages stopped.
And that silence cut deeper than anything.
***
"Aanya, beta?" her mother called from the kitchen.
Aanya didn't respond.
"You're not going to tell me what happened?"
She sighed. "I needed space."
"Space," her mother repeated. "You're married, not living in a hotel. You can't just check in and out."
Aanya looked at her, eyes heavy. "You did that to me. You forced me into something I wasn't ready for."
"I didn't force you."
"You didn't *listen* to me. That's the same thing."
Her mother slammed the ladle onto the counter. "Every marriage has problems. Look at your father and me—we had fights too. But we stayed. We worked through it."
"You didn't marry a stranger."
"He's not a stranger."
"He is to me."
Her mother paused, lowered her voice. "You're embarrassing us."
Aanya laughed bitterly. "That's all this is about, right? Society. What people will say."
"You've been married two weeks and already ran back. What do you think people are saying now?"
"I don't care."
"You should."
"No," Aanya said, standing up, "*you* should care how I feel. Not what the aunties in the colony think."
She walked off before she could be pulled into another round of blame.
***
By the sixth day, she received a package.
No note. Just a carefully wrapped box with her forgotten glasses, a packet of her favorite instant coffee, and a USB drive.
Curious, she plugged it into her laptop.
A single folder.
Inside it—her MBA application essays, proofread and annotated. Arjun's comments were in blue, precise and thoughtful. He hadn't changed a word without permission, just left gentle suggestions.
At the end of each essay, a tiny line of text:
*"Looks good. You'll get in. You're smarter than you think."*
She stared at the screen, heart in her throat.
He should've yelled at her. Accused her. Guilt-tripped her.
But he didn't.
And that made it harder.
***
She met her friend Nidhi for coffee the next day.
"Are you sure you're not overreacting?" Nidhi asked as she stirred sugar into her cup.
Aanya stared at her. "You of all people?"
"I'm not defending him. I'm just trying to understand. He's not hitting you. He's not cheating. He's not... horrible. He's just intense."
"He's *too* intense. It's like he watches every step I take. He doesn't say anything, but I feel it. Like... like I'm being studied."
Nidhi leaned back, thoughtful. "You know what's scary? Most people would kill for a guy who worships them like that."
"He doesn't worship me. He wants to own me."
Nidhi's eyes softened. "That's the part they don't write in love stories."
***
That night, Aanya lay in bed scrolling through old photos on her phone. She hadn't taken many after the wedding. The few that existed were from the reception, awkward shots where she stood stiff and expressionless next to Arjun, while he managed to fake enough of a smile for the both of them.
But one photo stopped her.
It was from the third day after moving into the apartment—Arjun in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, trying to cook daal while staring confusedly at YouTube instructions. She had taken the photo secretly from the doorway, amused by his intensity.
In that moment, he looked... human.
Not the possessive shadow she hated.
Just a man trying to figure things out.
Her finger hovered over the delete button.
She didn't press it.
***
The next day, she got a call from his sister, Megha.
"Bhabhi," the voice was sweet but barbed. "Hope you're doing well at *maayka*. Must be nice, hmm?"
Aanya exhaled. "What do you want, Megha?"
"I just thought I'd let you know—Maa's really upset. Bhaiyya doesn't talk to her anymore. Barely answers her calls. All because of *you*."
"I didn't ask him to stop talking to his mother."
"Yeah, well, he listens to you now. Too much. Before marriage, he used to call Maa twice a day. Now? Nothing."
"I'm not stopping him."
"But your *absence* is."
Aanya tightened her grip on the phone. "That's his choice."
Megha laughed dryly. "Funny, isn't it? How fast you turned him against his own blood. We were right—this marriage was a mistake."
"You're welcome to tell him that."
"I don't need to. He'll find out soon enough."
The line went dead.
Aanya stared at the wall for a long time after that call.
***
Later that evening, she stepped out for a walk.
It was a quiet lane. Familiar. Safe.
But her heart jumped when she saw the black SUV parked at the corner.
It was him.
He was leaning against the car, hands in pockets, staring at her with an unreadable expression.
She froze.
He didn't move. Didn't call her.
Just waited.
She slowly walked toward him.
"You followed me?"
He nodded.
"That's insane."
"I wanted to see if you're okay."
"You could've called."
"You would've ignored it."
She looked away, annoyed that he was right.
"I didn't come to force you," he said softly. "Just… wanted to see your face."
"Why?"
"Because I miss it."
That simple admission hit her harder than she expected.
"You don't get to miss me," she said. "You don't get to act like this is normal."
"I know it's not."
"Then why can't you let go?"
"Because I'm trying," he said, stepping closer, "even if you don't see it."
"I see everything. You're in every corner of my head. That's the problem."
He didn't touch her. Didn't beg.
Just said, "I'll wait. As long as it takes."
And then he left.
***
That night, she couldn't sleep.
His words haunted her. Not because they were romantic, but because they were real.
And maybe, just maybe, because a part of her wasn't sure anymore—what she hated more: him, or the way he made her feel.
She opened her laptop again.
The essays stared back at her.
She noticed something she hadn't before—his small note at the bottom of the final page:
*"If you do get into your dream school and want to leave... I won't stop you. But I hope you don't leave me too."*
She closed the laptop.
And cried.
Not for him.
But because she didn't know what she wanted anymore.
---
**[End of Chapter 4]**