The next morning, Astha pulled her car keys from her bag as she and Arin walked to the parking lot. She was back to her usual composed self—reserved, distant, her face revealing nothing of the emotions she had bared to the stars the night before. It was as if that vulnerability had been carefully locked away, sealed behind her pragmatic exterior.
Arin stole a glance at her as they slid into the car. He had seen her break, had heard the whispered confessions of her loneliness, but today, she was impenetrable again, her walls firmly in place. He wondered how long she had perfected this act of strength—how many nights had she stood beneath the sky, asking for nothing, expecting even less.
She started the car, and as the engine purred to life, the radio crackled. A familiar song drifted through the speakers—Celine Dion’s I’m Alive.
A small smile tugged at Astha’s lips as she turned the volume up. “This is one of my favorites,” she admitted, her voice lighter than he had heard in a while. “It just… makes sense.”
Arin watched as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm, humming the melody before softly singing along. Her voice, unguarded in that moment, was clear and sincere, as though for once, she allowed herself to exist beyond the weight of her responsibilities.
He didn’t speak. He simply listened, memorizing this new version of her—the one who sang along to songs, the one who allowed herself these rare, fleeting moments of ease.
By the time they reached the office, the song was still playing in the background as she pulled into the parking space. She turned to him briefly, her mask slipping back into place. “See you inside.”
And just like that, she was gone, walking towards the office entrance with her usual purposeful stride, as if the morning had never happened.
Arin remained seated for a moment, watching her go.
She was a mystery. And no matter how much he observed, he wasn’t sure he would ever fully understand her.
But he wanted to try.
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