"Being needed isn’t the same as being wanted. I learned that too early."9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvAfhylf7zg
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVz4K9DD4gu
Vanya had never realized how long forty-eight hours could feel.
There was a time when two days barely registered—a blink between deadlines, a quick weekend that passed in a blur of meetings and coffee refills. But now, every hour stretched like it was pulling her nerves thinner and thinner, until they felt ready to snap.
It wasn’t just silence. It was a silence that knew it was being noticed. A silence that stared her in the face and said: You’re not important enough to break this void.
No “Hey, made it back.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWGLla5rUsY
No “Hope your work went well.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyBMby93pvJ
No “Sweet craving solved yet?”
Nothing.
Just… gone.
Ira Rathore had disappeared from her orbit.
The First 24 Hours
The first day, Vanya tried to brush it off. She was a grown adult—she wasn’t going to panic over a few unread texts. People got busy. People had lives.
She even told herself, She’s probably in some meeting, or with her family. Or she forgot her charger. Or maybe—maybe she’s just tired.
But that night, lying in bed with her phone burning like a live wire in her palm, the excuses felt thin. Vanya found herself scrolling through their old messages, one after another, like reading them might summon Ira.
The way Ira’s texts were always brief but oddly warm. Her unexpected questions. That accidental 3 a.m. call that had felt more intimate than any long conversation Vanya had had with someone in months.
She read those lines until her eyes ached, until she could almost hear Ira’s voice in the silence of her room.
And still—nothing new came in.
The Second Day
The second day wasn’t quiet anymore. It was loud. Infuriating.
Her mind started clawing at itself:
Did I overstep?9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡezncZhdykX
Did she finally realize I like her and freak out?9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHS4O2NWQ2F
Did I bore her?9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlqwCbQ3dUS
Was it the kiss question?
By noon, she had imagined a dozen scenarios, each worse than the last. Maybe Ira had decided she wasn’t worth the effort. Maybe Vanya had said something wrong, something stupid, and Ira—being Ira—had filed her neatly under "Not Relevant."
Every ping from her phone sent her heart into a nosedive when it wasn’t her.
The trio—Trisha, Dev, and Arav—had made their rounds trying to keep her sane.
Dev sent her the worst memes he could find. (“Your taste in women is almost as bad as this meme, but don’t cry, bestie.”)
Trisha called to yell, “If she’s ghosting you, she doesn’t deserve you, okay? You’re a 10, no—a 12!”
Arav, in his quiet, amused tone, offered, “Want me to hack into her Google Calendar? I’ll see if you’re penciled in for termination.”
But none of it helped.
Because it wasn’t just silence. It was Ira’s silence.
The Worst Part
Ira wasn’t the type to vanish. She was meticulous, polite, even when she wasn’t warm. She answered things. She showed up.
When she disappeared, it didn’t feel like distance. It felt like a decision.
And that thought gutted Vanya.
By evening, she’d stopped pretending to work. She was just… existing. Waiting. Her stomach was a hard knot of anger and hurt, each minute sharpening it.
It wasn’t even that Ira owed her anything. They weren’t dating. There were no rules here. But hadn’t they crossed some unspoken line that night? Hadn’t there been something real, something fragile, at 3:08 a.m. when Ira wanted to know why a watch mattered enough to haunt her?
Hadn’t it meant something?
The Spiral
That night, Vanya sat on her bed, phone gripped so tightly her knuckles turned white. She checked Ira’s WhatsApp—no last seen. She checked Instagram—no new stories. She even went as far as checking Ira’s LinkedIn.
Her LinkedIn.
Like a desperate fool.
She stared at Ira’s pristine profile photo, those unreadable eyes, and laughed bitterly.
“God, I’m losing my mind,” she whispered to no one.
Her thoughts spun out into ridiculous territory. Maybe she’s sick. Maybe she lost her phone. Maybe her secret billionaire alter ego was exposed and MI6 is interrogating her.
It was easier to imagine espionage than indifference.
But in the pit of her stomach, a quieter, crueler voice whispered:
She just doesn’t want to talk to you.
3:11 a.m.
By 3 a.m., sleep was a joke. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, the silence pressing down like a weight.
At 3:11, she finally turned her phone off and shoved it under her pillow—like burying it might somehow bury the ache.
Her eyes burned.
The Next Morning9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsFLah0rNFj
The sunlight hit differently when you hadn’t slept—sharp, almost mocking.
Vanya sat at the table with her toast untouched. Her siblings must have sensed the storm in her because, for once, they didn’t tease. Even Dev stayed quiet, his eyes flicking toward her but saying nothing.
After a while, she gave up on pretending to eat and trudged to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The woman in the mirror looked like a hollowed-out version of herself.
The Message9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzBitUvcD0c
Her phone buzzed.
Once.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeUz8Xk3IZE
Twice.
The sound slammed through the quiet like a gunshot. Vanya’s heart didn’t just jump—it bolted. Her toothbrush clattered into the sink as she lunged for the phone with wet, soapy hands.
IRA RATHORE.
Her breath caught. She opened the message so fast her thumb slipped.
"Are you available tomorrow, 4:00 p.m., campus library rooftop? I’ve blocked 4:00–4:45 in my calendar. Let me know if that works for you."
Vanya just… stared.
Not “Hey.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3bUt6OHxn3
Not “Sorry I disappeared.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8ZDX3NIbB0
Not even a half-hearted “Been busy.”
Just this.
A cold, perfect sentence. Like Ira hadn’t just left her pacing her own apartment for two days, feeling like she was going insane.
The heat rose in Vanya’s chest so fast it made her dizzy.
“What the hell, Ira,” she whispered into the empty room.
She laughed, but it wasn’t really a laugh. More like the sharp sound you make when you’re seconds from losing it.
Her thumb hovered over the screen as if typing back would burn. She wanted to scream into the phone, to type something that would hurt, something that would crack through that maddening calm:
“Oh, so now I exist?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ETsebzh7q
“Did I miss the memo where ghosting became foreplay?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAlno7sNQ5m
“Should I block off time on my calendar to emotionally recover from this?”
Her phone shook in her hand.
She paced the bathroom, half-dressed, heart slamming against her ribs. Anger burned hot and wild—but underneath it, a humiliating thread of relief was unfurling like smoke.
Because Ira had texted.
Because the silence was broken.
Because, despite everything, Vanya’s pulse wouldn’t stop racing just from seeing her name on the screen.
She tossed the phone onto her bed like it had personally betrayed her. Then immediately grabbed it back again.
“I hate you,” she muttered at the glowing message. “I hate you so much. And yes, I’ll be there. Damn it.”
Her thumb hovered, trembling, over the keyboard.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡicl1X3p6Oy
She wanted to wait, to let Ira feel that absence for once.
But the ugly truth was—she knew she’d reply.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuNL5h6GQS4
She knew she’d show up.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ60FBCvWxTq
Because for reasons she couldn’t even explain to herself, this woman mattered.
Too much.
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYnLobVrPEy
She jabbed her thumb at the keyboard, fingers flying as if anger could pour itself into words.
“Wow, thanks for finally acknowledging I exist.”
She stared at it. Backspaced.
“Did I miss the part where ghosting me was a new project milestone?”
Delete.
“Ira, what the actual hell was that?”
Delete. Delete. Delete.
Her breath came faster.
She sat on the bed, phone balanced on her knee, staring at that single text like it was mocking her. She started typing again:
“Two days, Ira. You vanish for two days, and this is what I get?”
Her thumb hovered over Send. Her throat tightened.
No. Too desperate.
She deleted the entire thing and let the screen go dark, her reflection faint in the glass—tired, angry, and stupidly hopeful all at once.
Vanya threw the phone onto the blanket, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The silence in the room pressed down on her, heavy and merciless.
She picked it back up again.
“Sure. 4:00 is fine.”
It was bland. Civil. Detached.
She typed it, erased it.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
No. Too easy.
“You’re lucky I don’t throw this phone out the window.”
She stared at that last one for a good ten seconds before deleting it too.
By the fifth draft, she was curled forward, forehead resting on her knees, the phone clutched like a weapon. She hated how much this mattered, how much Ira mattered.
“She doesn’t get to do this,” Vanya whispered to herself, half a growl, half a plea.
And yet… she knew.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXsRYnz9tUc
She knew she’d show up.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB0sFBI6shX
No matter what reply she finally sent—or didn’t.
The living room was too bright, too cheerful for how Vanya felt. The sunlight poured in like it hadn’t heard of heartbreak, bouncing off the pale walls and catching on Dev’s stupidly shiny sneakers sprawled on the coffee table.
Vanya paced in front of the couch, hair falling loose from her bun, oversized hoodie threatening to swallow her whole. Her phone was clutched in her hand like a live grenade.
Dev watched her with the kind of amusement only someone not in pain could muster. Beside him, Trisha was curled up cross-legged, sipping iced coffee like she was front row at a theatre performance.
“Two. Whole. Days.”
Vanya’s voice cracked with every word. She spun to face them, her free hand flailing like punctuation.
“Do you understand how insane that is? Who does that? Who just—vanishes? No text, no call, not even a read receipt? I was about five seconds away from filing a missing person’s report!”
Trisha raised an eyebrow. “A missing person’s report or a restraining order against your own obsession?”
Vanya whipped around, pointing at her like she’d just committed a crime. “Not now, Trisha.”
Dev smirked. “Okay, but real talk—you checked her LinkedIn, didn’t you?”
Vanya froze, heat rushing to her face. “...No.”
“Liar,” Dev sing-songed, leaning back like a king on his throne. “You absolutely stalked her corporate profile at three in the morning. What were you even hoping for? That she updated her status to ‘Currently ghosting Vanya Singhania, brb’?”
Trisha choked on her coffee, laughing so hard she had to set the cup down.
Vanya groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “I hate her. I swear to God, I hate her.”
“Oh yeah?” Dev leaned forward, grin widening. “So why’s your phone sitting there like a ticking bomb? Why are you pacing like you’re about to propose to it?”
“Because,” Vanya snapped, “I don’t know what to say! After two days of silence, she sends me—this calendar invite masquerading as a text! No explanation, no apology. Just: Are you available tomorrow at 4:00 p.m.?”
Trisha tilted her head. “...That’s kind of hot.”
“TRISHA.”
Trisha shrugged, smirking. “I’m just saying, she’s got CEO energy. Very alpha, very mysterious. I get it.”
Vanya threw her hands in the air. “No! It’s infuriating! I was here, losing my mind, and she’s—she’s probably color-coding her Google calendar without a care in the world!”
Dev folded his arms, tone softening just a fraction. “So… what are you gonna do?”
Vanya stopped pacing.
Her throat felt tight.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her voice dropped. “Part of me wants to ignore her. Make her wait. Let her see what it feels like.”
“And the other part?” Trisha asked gently.
Vanya’s fingers tightened around her phone. “…The other part just wants to see her. Even if she doesn’t explain. Even if it’s stupid. I just… want to know she’s there.”
Trisha exchanged a glance with Dev—one of those silent sibling telepathy moments.
Dev leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You’re allowed to be mad, Vanya. You should be mad. But don’t pretend you don’t care. You’d walk barefoot across hot coals if she asked you, and we all know it.”
Trisha smirked but her voice was soft. “Just text her back. Or don’t. But don’t kill yourself playing this silent-war game. She’s clearly not great at normal human communication, but… she’s showing up in her own weird way.”
Vanya sank onto the couch between them, shoulders sagging.
She stared at her phone again. That message sat there, glowing like a dare.
“What if she doesn’t… feel the same?” she murmured, almost to herself.
Dev reached over and nudged her knee. “Then you’ll survive. You always do. But right now? She’s the one asking for your time. That’s something.”
Vanya exhaled shakily, thumb hovering over her screen again.
Here’s the ending to the scene, following Vanya’s shaky hesitation, tying it off with a short but powerful emotional beat.
Vanya exhaled shakily, thumb hovering over her screen again.
“What if I say the wrong thing?” she muttered, almost to herself.
“Then you delete it and try again,” Dev said, already craning his neck to read her drafts.
“Or” Trisha chimed in with a grin, “you send her something completely unhinged. Like, ‘I’ll meet you at 4:00 p.m. but only if you bring emotional clarity and snacks.’”
Vanya shot them both a glare but couldn’t stop the tiny, involuntary smile tugging at her mouth. Her fingers danced over the screen one last time before she finally settled on:
“4:00 works. See you there.”
She stared at it for a second, then hit send before she could overthink it.
The message left her phone with a soft whoosh, and somehow the silence that followed felt heavier, like holding her breath underwater.
Trisha leaned against her shoulder. “There. Done. No drama, no begging. CEO vibes right back at her.”
Dev raised a brow. “But also, you look like you’re about to throw up.”
Vanya laughed—tired, quiet, but real. She set the phone face down on the coffee table, pressing her palms together like a prayer.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she whispered, more to herself than to them, “I’m done waiting in this silence.”
The room fell still for a moment. The sunlight felt warmer now, softer on her skin.
Somewhere inside her chest, anger and longing twisted together into something that almost felt like resolve.
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRuNmbKt1zN
