The lights were out. The village had fallen asleep. And Ritika? Wide awake, eyebrows furrowed like she was ready to pick a fight with gravity itself.

The ceiling fan made a soft tak-tak-tak, like it too was trying to get on her nerves. But the real culprit?

"Tum phir se humming kar rahe ho," she snapped in the dark.

"Haan?" Rohit’s voice floated lazily. "Arre... sorry, subconscious mein ho gaya hoga."

"Subconscious mein tum bhains bhi ban jaao toh mujhe shock nahi hoga," she muttered.

He laughed. "Wow. Compliment mil gaya raat ko. Lucky feel kar raha hoon."

She groaned. "Your voice is ruining my sleep."

"I thought my voice was soothing."

"To frogs, maybe."

"Frogs deserve nice things too," he said, flopping over on the mattress. "Anyway, can’t sleep."

"Clearly," she muttered.

There was a pause. Then—

"You wanna go upstairs? Thoda hawa toh lage."

She didn't answer immediately. But a few seconds later, she stood up and slipped into her chappals.

He followed, of course. Of course he did.

The terrace was quiet. Sky full of stars, that village silence wrapping around them like a worn blanket. The type of night that made things feel a little too soft.

Ritika went straight to the corner and leaned against the wall. Crossed arms. Shut expression. All sharp edges, as usual.

Rohit, on the other hand, collapsed beside her like he was a part of the night sky.

"You're like a cat," he said.

"Matlab?"

"All grumpy and unpredictable. But cute. Secretly."

She turned her head slowly. "Tumhe marna hai kya?"

He grinned. "See? Kitna adorable reaction tha."

"Tumhare jokes sunke plants bhi murjha jaate honge."

"Tabhi mere room mein cactus bhi nahi tikta."

She rolled her eyes. But her mouth tugged upward just slightly.

He noticed.

Then, silence.

A long, strange kind. Not the usual tension-filled silence where they’re both waiting to snap back. No. This one was... settled.

Too settled.

She glanced sideways. "Tum itna chup kyun ho?"

He didn’t look at her. "Kuch nahi. Bas... aise hi."

Her eyes narrowed. "Tumhare jaise log ‘aise hi’ chup nahi hote."

He let out a breath. "Fair. I'm just... tired, maybe."

She blinked. "Of what? Tum toh hamesha full battery ho."

He gave a half-smile, eyes still on the stars.

"You know na," he said softly, "when you're the funny one, sabko lagta hai you're always okay."

She frowned, taken off-guard by the sudden honesty.

"But sometimes," he continued, "main sirf chhup rehna chahta hoon. Bina kisi wajah ke."

Ritika looked away. She didn’t like this. Not because it was wrong, but because it was… true. Too true.

"I joke so people don't ask questions," he said.

She didn't say anything. Just listened.

"And I keep talking because silence makes people uncomfortable."

"Tumhe uncomfortable lag raha hai abhi?"

He looked at her, eyes soft. "Nahi. Tumhare saath... silence doesn’t feel weird."

She swallowed.

This wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to say real things. He was supposed to annoy her, crack bad jokes, and trip over things.

"I talk too much," he said, "but I listen too."

She hated that her chest felt warm. That something in her wanted to… believe him.

So she rolled her eyes.

"Main kuch bolungi bhi nahi," she said, "toh bhi tum khud se poore dialogues bol loge."

He laughed,. "Shayad. But tum sunogi. That's enough."

They sat there, side by side. Not touching. Not talking anymore.

But the quiet?

It wasn’t heavy. Not anymore.

After a while, he said, "Tum thoda smile karti ho toh acha lagta hai."

"Bas bolna band karo," she said, too quickly.

"Tum blush kar rahi ho kya?" he grinned.

"Main tumhe terrace se dhakka de dungi."

"Worthy death," he sighed dramatically, leaning back.

She snorted.

That was the moment he looked at her again—longer, slower.

And in the moonlight, she didn't look like Madam Grumpy.

She looked like someone holding onto a wall so tight, she didn't realise she could just let go.

"You know," he said quietly, "tum scary ho thodi."

She blinked. "Kya?"

"Scary, but... oddly nice. Like black coffee."

"Bitter?"

"But addictive."

Ritika stared at him. No retort came. Not this time.

Instead, she said, "Mujhe hand lag rahi hai."

He immediately shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to her.

She blinked again. "Tum kya pehnego ?"

"Nahi. Mujhe toh aadat hai. Tum patli si ho, tum freeze ho jaogi."

She took it. Reluctantly. Wore it. And okay... maybe it did smell a little like him. A little warm, a little chaotic.

They walked back downstairs without speaking.

Back to their bed.

Back to the kind of silence that felt less like a wall, more like a bridge.

Before turning to sleep, he whispered in the dark:

"Goodnight, Madam Grumpy."

And this time, she didn't threaten him

She just mumbled back, "Goodnight ."

I know I am very very very late and the chapter is boring and short. But sorry guys I am just so blank nowadays. Also it had been so long since I updated last I want to keep this alive that's why I posted.

Sorry.

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