Chapter 5: Waking Up to Change

I woke, my mouth dry, fingers tangled in the blanket, the familiar poster of a Bollywood actress on the wall. The househelp aunty bustled in, relief on her face. "Arrey, you scared us, beta. Fever for three days! Let me make some khichdi, extra ghee—your mother always said you liked it."

Rohan lingered by the door, his energy nervous. "What did you dream about? You called my name in your sleep," he said, eyes averted. I shook my head. "I don’t remember." My voice was hoarse, surprising even me. He handed me a glass of water. "Thank you," I managed, and he raised an eyebrow, teasing, "It’s been a long time since you said that."

He stood at the foot of my bed, arms folded, as if nothing had happened. I stared at the comforter, realizing with a strange calm that I didn’t ache for him anymore. The jealousy, the anxiety, all the old panic—gone. That one night in the rain had washed away my hopes. I didn’t like him anymore. Maybe I never really did.