"Sometimes, the most meaningful conversations happen without words."
                               — Unknown

The soft glow of the evening sun filled the room as Vivaan sat by his easel, a half-finished painting standing in front of him. His brush hovered over the canvas, yet his mind was far from the strokes of color. It had been days since the conversation with Roohi about their meeting. Her message kept replaying in his mind, the simplicity of it hiding the depth of emotions it carried.

“I think we need to meet… to talk,” she had texted. It was unexpected, and yet, something about it felt right. He hadn't known how to reply at first. How could he? What could he say that would express the unspoken thoughts he had been carrying with him ever since their paths had intertwined?

But now, as the evening descended, Vivaan found himself yearning for that conversation, for the clarity it might bring. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had changed, but lately, the quiet moments with Roohi had begun to mean something more. There was an energy between them, something he couldn’t ignore any longer.

His phone buzzed on the table, breaking his reverie. It was a message from Roohi.

"Same time tomorrow?"

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he read it. There was a vulnerability in her words that moved him, the kind of vulnerability that reflected how deeply she was beginning to trust him, despite the silence between them.

“I’d like that,” he typed quickly, sending his response before his mind could second-guess the decision.

His fingers lingered on the phone for a moment longer, the excitement of the upcoming meeting stirring something inside him. This wasn't just a conversation, he realized. It was a step, a shift, a deeper understanding of who they were becoming in each other’s lives.

Roohi sat in her room, her fingers lightly grazing the screen of her phone as she waited for Vivaan’s reply. She had been thinking about this moment for days, her heart caught in a delicate balance between hope and uncertainty. Would he want to meet her? Would he agree to a conversation that wasn’t dictated by duty, but by the need for something more?

When the notification popped up, her heart skipped a beat. She quickly opened the message.

"I’d like that."

The words felt like a weight had lifted off her chest, like something unspoken between them had finally found its voice. She had been afraid - afraid of how Vivaan might react, afraid of making the wrong move. But now, everything seemed to fall into place. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, they would meet as two people, not bound by duty, but by the quiet understanding they had developed without even realizing it.

She set her phone down, her heart racing with anticipation. What would they talk about? What would it feel like to speak to him without the walls that had kept them apart?

Tomorrow would answer those questions, she realized. And as she sat there, a soft smile touched her lips, her thoughts drifting to what lay ahead.

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The following day, the café was quiet, with only a few patrons scattered around. Vivaan arrived early, his mind racing with thoughts of the meeting. He had no expectations, just a sense of calm determination. This was a step towards something new, something neither of them had fully understood yet.

When Roohi walked in, his gaze immediately found hers. She looked beautiful, her expression thoughtful, but there was a certain calmness in her that caught him off guard. She didn’t speak at first, instead, offering a small, genuine smile as she approached him.

“Hi,” she greeted softly.

“Hi,” Vivaan replied, his voice steady, yet the butterflies in his stomach betrayed him. They both sat down, a comfortable silence falling between them for a moment before Roohi spoke.

"I've been thinking about us... about how much we've changed without really acknowledging it," she said, her voice quiet but certain.

Vivaan nodded, his gaze fixed on her. "I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s like something is... shifting between us. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s there."

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile that made his heart flutter. "It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so simple, like spending time together, can make everything feel different."

Vivaan leaned back slightly, studying her for a moment. "Different in a good way, though."

Roohi met his gaze, her eyes warm, yet full of curiosity. "Yes. Different in a good way."

The café buzzed softly with the chatter of distant conversations and the occasional clink of cups. Vivaan and Roohi sat by the window, the golden afternoon light framing their faces. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, untouched by the bustle around them. Roohi, her curiosity piqued by the quiet depth in Vivaan’s demeanor, decided to delve deeper.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, letting the quiet build a bridge where words had yet to tread. Then Roohi leaned forward slightly, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"Vivaan," she began gently, "I was thinking... about you as an artist. How did you start? I mean, why did you choose it as your profession?"

Vivaan smiled faintly, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his cup. "You really want to know?"

She nodded, her gaze steady. "I do. It’s not every day you meet someone who chooses to follow their passion so fearlessly. There has to be a story there."

Vivaan smiled faintly, his eyes flickering with memories. "Art has always been my sanctuary. As a child, I would draw on just about anything on walls, scraps of paper, even my notebooks. My parents used to tease me, calling me their little artist. At first, they thought it was just a phase, but the love for it only grew stronger."

He paused, his voice softening as the memories resurfaced. "Back in school, I would enter every art competition I could find. Winning those competitions wasn’t just about trophies or certificates; sometimes, there were cash prizes too. I loved seeing the joy on my parents’ faces when I brought them home. It made me feel like I was doing something meaningful."

Her smile softened. "Sounds like you were pretty talented even when you were a kid. "

Roohi leaned forward slightly, captivated by the sincerity in his tone. She noticed how his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on the edge of his cup, as though his hands were always drawn to creating something, even in idle moments.

"I guess," Vivaan said, his voice tinged with both pride and humility. "But I didn't just love it because I was good at it. Drawing,painting... it was like a language I could speak without words. When I held a pencil or a brush, the world made sense in a way it didn't otherwise."

He paused, his expression darkening slightly. "But after the accident... after I lost my parents and my brother, everything changed. I couldn't focus on studies anymore. It felt like the world had tipped off its axis, and I was just... lost. Art became my only escape. It was the one thing that made me feel alive, even when everything else seemed hollow."

Roohi’s heart ached for him, but there was also a quiet respect in her eyes.Her gaze didn't waver. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her voice steady yet soft. "You turned your pain into something meaningful, Vivaan. That takes more strength than most people realize. Not everyone would have the courage to embrace their vulnerability like that."

Vivaan looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It wasn’t easy. I won’t lie. There were days when I questioned everything, but my Dadi… she was my anchor. She never let me give up. When I told her I wanted to pursue art as a career, everyone else said I was crazy, that it wasn’t stable or practical. But Dadi… she simply said, ‘Follow your heart, beta. The world needs people who are brave enough to chase their passion.’"

"Your dadi was right," Roohi said after a moment, her voice carrying quiet conviction. "The world might not understand the language of your heart, but that doesn't make it any less powerful. You've built something extraordinary out of what others would've let destroy them. That's not just talent, Vivaan-that's strength."

She smiled warmly, her voice full of admiration.

Vivaan nodded, his expression tender with the memory. "She is. If it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have even considered applying to the Sir J.J. School of Art in Mumbai. Getting that scholarship was like a dream come true. Walking onto that campus for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be. It wasn’t just about learning how to create art; it was about learning to tell a story through it."

Roohi’s eyes softened with admiration. "That would have been an amazing journey. But I’m sure it wasn’t easy after that, was it?"

Vivaan chuckled lightly, the sound filled with a touch of nostalgia. "It definitely wasn’t. I started with small commissions and local exhibitions, barely scraping by. People kept telling me how unstable being an artist was. I had my doubts, too. But then, something changed. A gallery owner saw my work and decided to feature it in their exhibition. That was the turning point. After that, things started falling into place, one opportunity at a time."

Roohi rested her chin on her hand, her gaze soft but unwavering. "And now, here you are, living your dream. Proving everyone wrong."

Vivaan’s expression softened, his voice gentle. "I wouldn’t say I’m proving anyone wrong. It’s more about proving to myself that I could make it. Today, I live comfortably, but more than the money, it’s the feeling of waking up every day to something I truly love. That’s the real reward."

For a long moment, they sat in quiet understanding, the weight of Vivaan’s story settling between them like an unspoken bond.

"Vivaan," she said with a small smile, "I hope you know how incredible that is."

He looked at her, something unspoken passing between them.

For the first time in a long while, he felt truly seen-not just as an artist, but as a person.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Vivaan met her gaze, his smile gentle but appreciative. "I think we all have something we hold onto when life gets tough. For me, it was art. Maybe for others, it’s something else. But it’s the journey ,the perseverance, the faith that shapes who we are."

The conversation lingered in the air, a testament to the growing bond between them. Neither of them said it out loud, but in that moment, they both knew they had begun to understand each other in a way that words couldn't fully capture. For the first time, Roohi saw Vivaan not just as an artist, but as a man who had risen above his pain, crafting a life out of passion, resilience, and love for what he did.