It became a routine without either of them realizing it.
Every morning, Aarya stepped into her balcony with her cup of tea.
It was her moment.
Her pause before the day began.
The morning air in Mumbai felt different from Pune.
Heavier.
Alive.
She rested her hands on the railing, watching the city slowly wake up.
And then she heard it.
The sliding door beside hers.
She didn’t turn.
She didn’t need to.
She knew.
Vihaan stepped into his balcony.
He had begun noticing it too.
Her routine.
Same time.
Same quiet presence.
She never tried to speak.
Never tried to intrude.
She simply existed beside him.
Separated by a wall.
Connected by silence.
Later that morning, inside the gym, Vihaan ran on the treadmill near the window.
From there, he could see the building entrance.
He saw her leave.
Her saree moved gently as she walked.
Her posture calm. Confident.
She entered her car and drove away.
He watched until she disappeared.
He didn’t know why.
He didn’t question it either.
That evening, Aarya stepped into her balcony again.
The city was louder now.
Brighter.
Alive.
His balcony light was on.
He stood there.
Like he had the night before.
Like he always had.
For the first time since moving to Mumbai, she didn’t feel alone.
Not because she knew him.
But because she had grown used to his presence.
And next door, Vihaan stood quietly.
Looking at the same city.
Sharing the same silence.
Without knowing her name.
Yet.
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