Not every "yes" is spoken with happiness.
Sometimes...
It is spoken because the person you were waiting for...
...never came back.
Winter had almost ended.
The gulmohar trees inside the college had begun to bloom again.
Everything around them looked alive.
Only their love had stopped growing.
Nikhita no longer waited at the tea stall.
The empty chair opposite Nikhil remained empty every evening.
She had learned that hope becomes painful when it waits too long.
Her parents never mentioned the proposal again.
They didn't need to.
Silence had become their question.
One Sunday morning, while helping her mother arrange fresh jasmine in a brass bowl, Nikhita spoke without looking up.
"I'll meet them."
Her mother's hands stopped moving.
"Are you sure?"
Nikhita forced a smile.
"If Appa believes they're good people..."
"...I'll meet them."
Her mother embraced her tightly.
She mistook surrender for acceptance.
Only Nikhita knew the difference.
The meeting was arranged for the following weekend.
The groom's family arrived with warmth and simplicity.
There were no grand expectations.
No demands.
No arrogance.
Among them was Arjun, a Electrical engineer from Mysuru.
He was polite.
Soft-spoken.
Respectful.
He greeted everyone before quietly sitting down.
When he finally looked at Nikhita, he smiled kindly.
"I've heard you love books."
She nodded.
"I do."
"So do I."
It should have made the conversation easier.
Instead...
It reminded her of someone who used to bring her books without being asked.
After tea, both families left them alone in the garden.
Arjun spoke gently.
"I know these meetings are awkward."
She smiled faintly.
"They are."
"You don't have to answer today."
"I'm not here to convince you."
"I only wanted to meet the person my parents speak so highly of."
His kindness made everything harder.
There was nothing to dislike about him.
Except...
He wasn't Nikhil.
Meanwhile, across the city, Nikhil sat beneath the banyan tree.
The wind carried the fragrance of blooming jasmine.
He looked at his phone countless times.
No message.
No call.
He already knew why.
Today was the day.
The day she was meeting someone else.
His fingers tightened around the notebook resting on his lap.
He opened it.
But he couldn't write.
Some pain refuses to become words.
That evening, Nikhita walked back into her room.
Her mother knocked softly.
"What did you think?"
She remained silent.
"He seems like a good man."
Another silence.
Her mother sat beside her.
"You don't have to answer if your heart says no."
Tears welled in Nikhita's eyes.
"My heart..."
"...stopped being asked a long time ago."
Days passed.
The proposal slowly moved forward.
Relatives called.
Dates were discussed.
Astrologers were consulted.
Every conversation sounded like another brick being placed between two lives that had once dreamed of becoming one.
One evening, unable to bear the silence any longer, Nikhita went to the hill.
The banyan tree stood waiting.
Nikhil was already there.
He looked up as she approached.
Neither smiled.
"I met them."
He nodded.
"How was he?"
"He's kind."
"I'm glad."
She looked at him in disbelief.
"That's all you have to say?"
"What else should I say?"
She laughed bitterly.
"I kept waiting."
"I thought you'd fight for us."
"I thought you'd ask me to wait."
"I thought..."
Her voice broke.
"...you loved me."
The words struck him harder than any illness ever had.
He wanted to shout the truth.
To tell her about the hospital.
The medicines.
The fear.
Instead, he whispered,
"I do."
She stared at him.
"Then why are you letting me go?"
He looked toward the horizon.
Because loving you has never been the difficult part.
Losing you is.
But he couldn't say it.
Instead, he answered,
"Because sometimes..."
"...love isn't enough."
A single tear rolled down Nikhita's cheek.
"No."
She shook her head.
"Love was enough."
"It was silence that defeated us."
She turned and began walking away.
After a few steps, she stopped.
Without turning back, she said softly,
"I hope... one day... you find whatever you're looking for."
He closed his eyes.
"I already did."
She never heard those words.
The wind carried them in the opposite direction.
Two weeks later, the engagement date was fixed.
An elegant cream-colored invitation card arrived from the printer.
At the top, in golden letters, were the names of two families.
Below them...
Two names that would never learn to belong together.
Nikhita
and
Arjun
That same evening, Nikhil sat at his desk.
He took out every letter he had ever written.
One by one.
He tied them together with a simple blue ribbon.
Then he whispered,
"These belong to the life we almost had."
Outside his window, the first drops of summer rain began to fall.
It was the same kind of rain that had introduced two strangers at a lonely bus stop.
This time...
There was no wind carrying pages together.
Only rain washing dreams away.