short tales - Chapter 20: Chapter 20
You are reading short tales, Chapter 20: Chapter 20. Read more chapters of short tales.
The resort was nestled deep in the misty hills — a quiet, dreamy place, perfect for campfires, shared laughter, and whispered secrets.
As the students stepped off the bus, the coordinators shouted instructions, trying to gain control over the excited crowd.
“Girls in one wing, boys in the other. Pair up for rooms! No sneaking around after 10 PM, got it?”
Laughter, teasing, and fake complaints followed. But amidst the chaos, two pairs of eyes met.
Aanya was standing by her suitcase, tying her dupatta tightly around her chest, pretending to be focused on the registration list.
Aarav leaned casually against a tree, hands in his pockets, watching her.
Not too obviously — just enough for her to notice.
And she did.
Their gazes locked for a split second — and in that second, everything unsaid passed between them.
Longing.
Tension.
Hunger.
Restraint.
Love.
They hadn’t shared a room in weeks.
Hadn’t touched each other.
Hadn’t kissed without fear.
This trip — this moment — was dangerous.
Because here, surrounded by classmates and watchful eyes, their secret could either stay buried… or explode.
Later that evening, the students were gathered around the bonfire. Music played, marshmallows melted, and someone was already trying to start a game of truth or dare.
Aanya sat near the edge of the group, sipping on warm cocoa, wrapped in her oversized shawl. She looked calm — composed, even.
But inside?
Her heart wouldn’t slow down.
She could feel his presence even from across the fire. The way his laughter reached her ears, low and deep. The way he occasionally glanced her way when no one else was looking.
Why did she miss him so much…
even though he was right there?
And why did it hurt — this pretending?
When the fire died down and the sky turned darker, everyone retired to their rooms in twos and threes. Giggles echoed through the hallway as roommates gossiped and unpacked.
Aanya entered her room and closed the door, locking it with a click. She leaned against it, exhaling.
Alone at last.
Her phone buzzed.
Aarav: Room 102. Balcony. 15 minutes. Wear your jacket. It’s cold.
She stared at the screen, heart skipping.
This was it.
The moment she both
feared and craved.
Fifteen minutes later, she quietly opened the balcony door and stepped out into the cold night air — where he was waiting, leaning against the railing, cigarette unlit in hand.
He looked up.
And smiled.
“Missed you, Mrs. Singhania.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Me too…”
As the students stepped off the bus, the coordinators shouted instructions, trying to gain control over the excited crowd.
“Girls in one wing, boys in the other. Pair up for rooms! No sneaking around after 10 PM, got it?”
Laughter, teasing, and fake complaints followed. But amidst the chaos, two pairs of eyes met.
Aanya was standing by her suitcase, tying her dupatta tightly around her chest, pretending to be focused on the registration list.
Aarav leaned casually against a tree, hands in his pockets, watching her.
Not too obviously — just enough for her to notice.
And she did.
Their gazes locked for a split second — and in that second, everything unsaid passed between them.
Longing.
Tension.
Hunger.
Restraint.
Love.
They hadn’t shared a room in weeks.
Hadn’t touched each other.
Hadn’t kissed without fear.
This trip — this moment — was dangerous.
Because here, surrounded by classmates and watchful eyes, their secret could either stay buried… or explode.
Later that evening, the students were gathered around the bonfire. Music played, marshmallows melted, and someone was already trying to start a game of truth or dare.
Aanya sat near the edge of the group, sipping on warm cocoa, wrapped in her oversized shawl. She looked calm — composed, even.
But inside?
Her heart wouldn’t slow down.
She could feel his presence even from across the fire. The way his laughter reached her ears, low and deep. The way he occasionally glanced her way when no one else was looking.
Why did she miss him so much…
even though he was right there?
And why did it hurt — this pretending?
When the fire died down and the sky turned darker, everyone retired to their rooms in twos and threes. Giggles echoed through the hallway as roommates gossiped and unpacked.
Aanya entered her room and closed the door, locking it with a click. She leaned against it, exhaling.
Alone at last.
Her phone buzzed.
Aarav: Room 102. Balcony. 15 minutes. Wear your jacket. It’s cold.
She stared at the screen, heart skipping.
This was it.
The moment she both
feared and craved.
Fifteen minutes later, she quietly opened the balcony door and stepped out into the cold night air — where he was waiting, leaning against the railing, cigarette unlit in hand.
He looked up.
And smiled.
“Missed you, Mrs. Singhania.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Me too…”
End of short tales Chapter 20. Continue reading Chapter 21 or return to short tales book page.