Part 10 : The Night We Couldn't Hang Up
“Some moments begin with a question. Others begin with the silence that follows it.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Veda was stunned.
For a moment, she forgot how conversations worked. She had words somewhere inside her, she was certain of that, but none of them seemed willing to find their way out.
“Vedu?”
She heard Sarang call her again, his voice softer this time.
“Mm.”
“Did I ask something wrong?”
“No,” she murmured, almost inaudibly. Then, after a pause, “Not exactly.”
“Then tell me, Vedu. Can I kiss you?”
Veda had no idea which part of her was blushing the most. She pressed her lips together, trying to gather herself, but all that escaped her was another muffled little mm.
And somehow, Sarang understood.
He had wanted to kiss her for longer than he cared to admit. The thought had been circling his mind, growing more insistent with every passing second. And now that the possibility was finally there, he could think of nothing else.
He kissed her...
The world seemed to fall quiet around Veda.
The sound of his kiss travelled through her headphones, but its effect reached somewhere much deeper than her ears. It was as though the gentlest sound had found its way into the most guarded corners of her heart, leaving her breathless and bewildered.
She tightened her hold on the pillow beside her, desperately trying to make sense of the unfamiliar storm of feelings.
“Are you there, Vedu?”
“Mm.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
A little silence followed.
“Vedu, can I say something?”
“Yes.”
Sarang fell quiet for a moment, as though he were choosing his words carefully.
“Let me be realistic, Vedu. You're not the first girl I've talked to, and I know I'm not the first guy you've talked to either. We've both met people. We've had conversations. We've probably felt a little something here and there.”
He paused.
“But somewhere along the way, I started feeling this strange connection with you. I can't explain it. It's unusual, but it's beautiful.”
Veda stared into the darkness of her room, listening.
“The moment I started kissing you, I couldn't think about anything else. All I could imagine was doing this for real. Not through a phone. Not through a screen. I wanted to hold your face between my hands. I wanted to look at you properly, brush your hair away from your face, and kiss your forehead.”
On the other side of the phone, Veda was completely speechless.
She had entered the conversation expecting words, perhaps a little teasing, perhaps another one of their familiar exchanges. She hadn't expected to find herself somewhere she couldn't quite name.
Her thoughts had scattered. Her heart was beating so fiercely that she could almost imagine holding it in the palm of her hand.
She was aware of everything and nothing at once, caught between the reality of lying alone in her room and the inexplicable feeling that Sarang was somehow closer than ever.
“Would you say something, Vedu?”
She swallowed, still searching for the words that refused to come.
Then, in the smallest voice, she asked, “Can I get one more, Sarang?”
She had barely finished speaking when he kissed her again.
And then again.
Not once, not twice, not even thrice. Somewhere along the way, neither of them bothered to count anymore.
There were no elaborate promises, no grand declarations. Just the warmth in his voice, the kisses that kept returning, and the quiet pauses in which neither seemed willing to be the first to speak.
Veda's breathing grew uneven, and Sarang found himself listening to every little change in it.
He wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was. The pauses. The softness. The way she called his name as though it belonged to a thought she hadn't yet learned how to express.
For a while, it felt as though time had forgotten them.
As though the night had made a little room for two people who had no idea what they were becoming to each other.
Sarang's voice grew warmer, softer, deeper with every passing moment. And Veda, who had spent so much time pretending that nothing could unsettle her, found herself wishing the moment would never end.
She wanted another kiss.
And another.
She wanted to stay right there, somewhere between his voice and her own silence, where nothing else seemed to matter.
Until reality found its way back to her.
Veda, what are you doing?
She had never planned for this.
She hadn't prepared herself for the way a simple question could turn an ordinary conversation into something she would replay in her mind long after the call ended.
“Sarang, stop.”
The words came suddenly, almost surprising her as much as they surprised him.
For a brief moment, the silence between them stretched.
Then he leaned into another kiss, caught up in the moment, before Veda spoke again, this time with a firmness that left no room for uncertainty.
“Sarang, please stop.”
And he stopped.
Immediately.
“Are you okay, Vedu?”
“Yes, I am.” She hesitated. “But I think we should stop. We should stay within this.”
She didn't know how to explain it.
She couldn't quite reason with herself about why she'd wanted him so close one moment and needed to pull back the next.
She only knew that something inside her had shifted, and she needed a moment to understand it.
Sarang didn't fully understand either.
But he didn't complain. He didn't ask her to justify herself, nor did he make her feel guilty for changing her mind.
He wasn't regretting the moment they'd shared, and he wasn't going to turn her hesitation into something she had to defend.
All he wanted was for Veda to feel comfortable with him. He wanted her to be there because she wanted to be there, with her own heart and her own willingness, never because she felt she owed him another moment.
“I should go, Sarang,” Veda finally said. “I've got work tomorrow.”
There was a pause.
“Can you stay a little longer?”
Veda glanced at the time.
“It's already 2:30 a.m., Sarang. We should get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
She thought that would be the end of it. That they would exchange their goodnights, hang up, and carry the strange sweetness of the night into the morning.
But then he asked, almost shyly, “Can I stay on the call while we sleep?”
Veda blinked at the darkness.
“Why?”
“Because your voice gives me peace. I won't keep talking. I'll just doze off.”
Something in her softened.
“Even your breathing is serene, Vedu,”
Sarang added, his voice turning gentle again. “I think I could fall asleep listening to it. It's the kind of sound that makes the world feel quiet.”
Veda didn't know how to say no to that.
Perhaps because, beneath all her hesitation, there was a small, honest part of her that wanted exactly the same thing.
She wanted him to stay.
Not to say anything extraordinary. Not to ask another question that would leave her speechless.
Just to be there.
“Okay,” she whispered.
And so, they stayed.
Both closed their eyes, the phone resting beside them, the call still connected between their two separate worlds.
Sleep, however, was nowhere near.
Veda kept returning to the moment they had shared, replaying it in fragments. His question. The way he had called her Vedu. His voice when he told her what he had imagined. Every time the memory returned, she found herself blushing all over again.
On the other side, Sarang was doing much the same.
He, too, was revisiting every little detail, wondering how a conversation that had begun with a question could leave him feeling so strangely content.
Neither knew how long they lay there, quietly lost in their own thoughts.
Every now and then, one of them would shift beneath the covers. Their breathing would change, betraying the fact that neither was quite as asleep as they pretended to be.
“Vedu,” Sarang murmured.
“Sarang.”
That was all.
No explanation. No confession. No attempt to give a name to whatever had happened between them.
Just their names, spoken softly into the darkness, as though hearing them was enough.
Slowly, the night began to surrender to morning.
The darkness outside their windows softened. The hours slipped away, carrying with them all the words neither had managed to say.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
Veda drifted off with Sarang's breathing in her ears. Sarang fell asleep with the quiet comfort of knowing she was still there.
Neither ended the call.
And somewhere between the last whispers of the night and the first light of morning, two people who had never planned to become this important to each other fell asleep, still connected by a call neither of them had wanted to end.
Perhaps neither was ready to say what the night had meant.
Perhaps neither needed to.
Not yet.
To be continued…
“Some moments begin with a question. Others begin with the silence that follows it.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Veda was stunned.
For a moment, she forgot how conversations worked. She had words somewhere inside her, she was certain of that, but none of them seemed willing to find their way out.
“Vedu?”
She heard Sarang call her again, his voice softer this time.
“Mm.”
“Did I ask something wrong?”
“No,” she murmured, almost inaudibly. Then, after a pause, “Not exactly.”
“Then tell me, Vedu. Can I kiss you?”
Veda had no idea which part of her was blushing the most. She pressed her lips together, trying to gather herself, but all that escaped her was another muffled little mm.
And somehow, Sarang understood.
He had wanted to kiss her for longer than he cared to admit. The thought had been circling his mind, growing more insistent with every passing second. And now that the possibility was finally there, he could think of nothing else.
He kissed her...
The world seemed to fall quiet around Veda.
The sound of his kiss travelled through her headphones, but its effect reached somewhere much deeper than her ears. It was as though the gentlest sound had found its way into the most guarded corners of her heart, leaving her breathless and bewildered.
She tightened her hold on the pillow beside her, desperately trying to make sense of the unfamiliar storm of feelings.
“Are you there, Vedu?”
“Mm.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
A little silence followed.
“Vedu, can I say something?”
“Yes.”
Sarang fell quiet for a moment, as though he were choosing his words carefully.
“Let me be realistic, Vedu. You're not the first girl I've talked to, and I know I'm not the first guy you've talked to either. We've both met people. We've had conversations. We've probably felt a little something here and there.”
He paused.
“But somewhere along the way, I started feeling this strange connection with you. I can't explain it. It's unusual, but it's beautiful.”
Veda stared into the darkness of her room, listening.
“The moment I started kissing you, I couldn't think about anything else. All I could imagine was doing this for real. Not through a phone. Not through a screen. I wanted to hold your face between my hands. I wanted to look at you properly, brush your hair away from your face, and kiss your forehead.”
On the other side of the phone, Veda was completely speechless.
She had entered the conversation expecting words, perhaps a little teasing, perhaps another one of their familiar exchanges. She hadn't expected to find herself somewhere she couldn't quite name.
Her thoughts had scattered. Her heart was beating so fiercely that she could almost imagine holding it in the palm of her hand.
She was aware of everything and nothing at once, caught between the reality of lying alone in her room and the inexplicable feeling that Sarang was somehow closer than ever.
“Would you say something, Vedu?”
She swallowed, still searching for the words that refused to come.
Then, in the smallest voice, she asked, “Can I get one more, Sarang?”
She had barely finished speaking when he kissed her again.
And then again.
Not once, not twice, not even thrice. Somewhere along the way, neither of them bothered to count anymore.
There were no elaborate promises, no grand declarations. Just the warmth in his voice, the kisses that kept returning, and the quiet pauses in which neither seemed willing to be the first to speak.
Veda's breathing grew uneven, and Sarang found himself listening to every little change in it.
He wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was. The pauses. The softness. The way she called his name as though it belonged to a thought she hadn't yet learned how to express.
For a while, it felt as though time had forgotten them.
As though the night had made a little room for two people who had no idea what they were becoming to each other.
Sarang's voice grew warmer, softer, deeper with every passing moment. And Veda, who had spent so much time pretending that nothing could unsettle her, found herself wishing the moment would never end.
She wanted another kiss.
And another.
She wanted to stay right there, somewhere between his voice and her own silence, where nothing else seemed to matter.
Until reality found its way back to her.
Veda, what are you doing?
She had never planned for this.
She hadn't prepared herself for the way a simple question could turn an ordinary conversation into something she would replay in her mind long after the call ended.
“Sarang, stop.”
The words came suddenly, almost surprising her as much as they surprised him.
For a brief moment, the silence between them stretched.
Then he leaned into another kiss, caught up in the moment, before Veda spoke again, this time with a firmness that left no room for uncertainty.
“Sarang, please stop.”
And he stopped.
Immediately.
“Are you okay, Vedu?”
“Yes, I am.” She hesitated. “But I think we should stop. We should stay within this.”
She didn't know how to explain it.
She couldn't quite reason with herself about why she'd wanted him so close one moment and needed to pull back the next.
She only knew that something inside her had shifted, and she needed a moment to understand it.
Sarang didn't fully understand either.
But he didn't complain. He didn't ask her to justify herself, nor did he make her feel guilty for changing her mind.
He wasn't regretting the moment they'd shared, and he wasn't going to turn her hesitation into something she had to defend.
All he wanted was for Veda to feel comfortable with him. He wanted her to be there because she wanted to be there, with her own heart and her own willingness, never because she felt she owed him another moment.
“I should go, Sarang,” Veda finally said. “I've got work tomorrow.”
There was a pause.
“Can you stay a little longer?”
Veda glanced at the time.
“It's already 2:30 a.m., Sarang. We should get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
She thought that would be the end of it. That they would exchange their goodnights, hang up, and carry the strange sweetness of the night into the morning.
But then he asked, almost shyly, “Can I stay on the call while we sleep?”
Veda blinked at the darkness.
“Why?”
“Because your voice gives me peace. I won't keep talking. I'll just doze off.”
Something in her softened.
“Even your breathing is serene, Vedu,”
Sarang added, his voice turning gentle again. “I think I could fall asleep listening to it. It's the kind of sound that makes the world feel quiet.”
Veda didn't know how to say no to that.
Perhaps because, beneath all her hesitation, there was a small, honest part of her that wanted exactly the same thing.
She wanted him to stay.
Not to say anything extraordinary. Not to ask another question that would leave her speechless.
Just to be there.
“Okay,” she whispered.
And so, they stayed.
Both closed their eyes, the phone resting beside them, the call still connected between their two separate worlds.
Sleep, however, was nowhere near.
Veda kept returning to the moment they had shared, replaying it in fragments. His question. The way he had called her Vedu. His voice when he told her what he had imagined. Every time the memory returned, she found herself blushing all over again.
On the other side, Sarang was doing much the same.
He, too, was revisiting every little detail, wondering how a conversation that had begun with a question could leave him feeling so strangely content.
Neither knew how long they lay there, quietly lost in their own thoughts.
Every now and then, one of them would shift beneath the covers. Their breathing would change, betraying the fact that neither was quite as asleep as they pretended to be.
“Vedu,” Sarang murmured.
“Sarang.”
That was all.
No explanation. No confession. No attempt to give a name to whatever had happened between them.
Just their names, spoken softly into the darkness, as though hearing them was enough.
Slowly, the night began to surrender to morning.
The darkness outside their windows softened. The hours slipped away, carrying with them all the words neither had managed to say.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
Veda drifted off with Sarang's breathing in her ears. Sarang fell asleep with the quiet comfort of knowing she was still there.
Neither ended the call.
And somewhere between the last whispers of the night and the first light of morning, two people who had never planned to become this important to each other fell asleep, still connected by a call neither of them had wanted to end.
Perhaps neither was ready to say what the night had meant.
Perhaps neither needed to.
Not yet.
To be continued…
