Chapter 20: The Bridge of Feelings
The morning sunlight filtered through the café's windows, illuminating the empty seat Raitha usually occupied during breaks. Shyam glanced at it repeatedly, unable to shake off the unease that had settled in his chest since the previous evening. She hadn't shown up for her shift, and Patel had noticed.
After the day's work, Patel approached Shyam while wiping his hands on a towel. "Shyam, is everything alright? Raitha didn't come in today. Did something happen?"
Shyam hesitated, but he couldn't bring himself to lie. Patel was not just his boss; he was also his father and someone who had always guided him. So Shyam recounted the events of the previous two days—the argument, Raitha's outburst, and the pain in her eyes as she walked away.
Patel listened intently, his face softening with understanding. When Shyam finished, Patel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Shyam, relationships—whether friendships or something more—are delicate. Misunderstandings happen, but what matters is how you address them. She's clearly hurting, and from what you've said, so are you. If you care about her, don't let this distance grow. Talk to her."
Shyam nodded, appreciating his father's advice but still unsure of how to approach Raitha.
As night fell, Shyam walked home, the streets quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. His thoughts were a whirlwind of guilt and longing. He wanted to apologize, to make things right, but he didn't know where to start.
When he reached the bridge near his apartment, he froze. Raitha stood there, leaning against the railing, her gaze fixed on the rippling water below. The faint light from the streetlamp illuminated her face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes.
She looked so fragile, so broken, that Shyam's heart ached. He took a hesitant step forward but stopped, unsure of what to say or do. Before he could retreat, Raitha turned, her eyes locking onto his.
"Shyam," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Without thinking, Shyam closed the distance between them. "Raitha, I—"
She raised a hand to stop him, her lips quivering as she tried to form words. "Before you say anything… let me explain."
Shyam nodded, giving her the space to speak.
Raitha clutched the railing tightly, as if drawing strength from it. "Yesterday… I wasn't angry at you, not really. I was angry at myself—for feeling so lost, so helpless. My mother… she passed away." Her voice broke, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "It's been years since my father died, and now… now she's gone too. I'm alone, Shyam. Completely alone."
Shyam's chest tightened, guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. He had been so focused on his own confusion and frustration that he hadn't even considered what Raitha might be going through.
"I tried to act strong," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I kept smiling, kept moving forward, I wouldn't feel the pain. But yesterday… everything just came crashing down."
Raitha wiped her tears, forcing a shaky laugh. "And instead of leaning on someone, I lashed out at you. I'm so sorry, Shyam. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Shyam stepped closer, his hands trembling as he placed them on her shoulders. "Raitha, you don't have to apologize. If anyone should be sorry, it's me—for not seeing what you were going through, for not being there for you when you needed someone the most."
Raitha looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and gratitude. "You've always been kind, Shyam. Even back in high school, when we barely talked, I could see it. That's why…" She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly. "That's why I fell for you."
Shyam's breath caught in his throat. He had spent so many years burying his feelings for Raitha, convinced she would never see him that way. Hearing her confess her feelings now felt surreal.
"I loved you too," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I still do. And I hate myself for not realizing sooner that you felt the same way."
Raitha's lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, the weight of their unspoken emotions finally lifting.
Shyam reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's okay to let out your feelings, Raitha. It's okay to cry, to be vulnerable. You don't have to carry this pain alone anymore."
Raitha clung to him, her sobs muffled against his chest. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the world around them fading away.
When Raitha finally pulled back, her face was streaked with tears, but there was a small, genuine smile on her lips. "Thank you, Shyam. For everything."
Shyam smiled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll always be here for you, Raitha. No matter what."
As the moonlight bathed them in its soft glow, Shyam leaned in, capturing Raitha's lips in a gentle kiss. It was a moment of pure connection, a promise of a new beginning.
When they finally pulled apart, Raitha chuckled softly. "Well, I guess this makes us an official couple now, huh?"
Shyam grinned, his heart lighter than it had been in years. "I guess it does."
As they walked back home together, hand in hand, the bridge behind them became a symbol of their journey—of pain, forgiveness, and the love that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.
Their story was far from over, but for now, they were ready to face whatever came next together.