The Love that Never needed Words

They were both from Mumbai — two ordinary souls in an extraordinary city that never sleeps. Shivani was the kind of person who could light up a room, but rarely tried to. She was fun-loving, full of warmth, but shy when it came to new people. Her laughter came easily, but her trust took time. Shubham, on the other hand, was everything she wasn’t — high energy, outgoing, the kind who could talk to strangers like they were long-lost friends. He loved travelling, exploring, and living life on the edge of spontaneity.

Fate brought them to a small coastal town, Ratnagiri. Both had enrolled in RMP Polytechnic to pursue Computer Engineering. They were from the same city but strangers to each other — just two faces in a crowd of students trying to decode both Java and life.

It was during one of those pre-exam chaos days that Shubham approached her. Their Java Practical was around the corner, and he had been struggling with his notes. He walked up to Shivani, notebook in hand, and asked with that mix of hesitation and charm only he could pull off, “Hey, can you share your notes with me? Please?”

Shivani looked up, slightly unsure. She wasn’t the kind to give away her number or notes easily. But there was something genuine in his request. She handed him her number and said, half-serious, half-smiling, “Fine. But don’t you dare share this with anyone else.”

And that was it. No spark, no slow-motion scene, no dramatic background music. Just a simple exchange — a number, a warning, and unknowingly, the beginning of a story that neither of them could have written better.

Days turned into weeks, and their conversations became more frequent. From discussing Java codes to life goals, they started finding comfort in each other’s presence. They weren’t rushing anywhere; they were simply being.

Shubham made her laugh. Shivani made him feel at peace. He brought chaos into her calm, and she brought calm into his chaos. Then came a small yet striking coincidence. Shivani discovered that her mother and Shubham shared the same birthday. She laughed when she found out, and he said, “See? Even the universe wants me to be part of your family.” She rolled her eyes, but her heart smiled.

Slowly, the friendship deepened. No one ever said “I like you” or “I love you.” They didn’t have to. Sometimes, words are just a formality for what hearts already understand.

As their diploma came to an end, life decided to test their bond. Both got admitted to degree colleges — still in Ratnagiri, but a hundred kilometres apart. What followed was something between friendship and love — a bond too deep to label, too personal to explain. They talked daily, shared everything, and missed each other silently. They never called it a relationship, but they both knew it was theirs.

Every weekend, Shubham would travel to meet her. He’d tell her about his college, his new friends, and sometimes just sit beside her in silence, because even silence felt enough when shared. Then came the lockdown. The world went quiet, and so did their weekend meetings. But somehow, they managed — through video calls, random texts, and those late-night conversations where both just stayed connected, even without words.

When restrictions lifted, life began again, but differently. They both got jobs and started adulting in the real world. New responsibilities, busy schedules, traffic, and deadlines took over, but one thing remained constant — each other. They’d meet after office hours, sometimes over chai, sometimes at Marine Drive, and sometimes in their familiar silence. And yes, like every couple, they had fights — sometimes over silly things like late replies or cancelled plans. But at the end of the day, they always found their way back, because their relationship had started as a friendship, and friendships don’t break that easily.

Time passed, and Shivani’s parents began thinking about her marriage. They weren’t the typical conservative parents; they were modern, open-minded, and deeply understanding. One evening, her mother sat beside her and asked gently, “Should we start looking for a boy, or have you already found one?” Shivani smiled — the kind of smile that says everything without saying a word. “Yes,” she said softly, “I’ve already found one.”

Her parents were happy. They said, “If his parents agree, we’re more than happy to move forward.” When both families met, everything just clicked. There were no objections, no drama, no hesitation. It was as if everyone had silently known this was meant to be.

But just when everyone expected a wedding date to be announced, Shivani and Shubham surprised everyone again. They said they didn’t want to get married — not yet. The reason wasn’t fear or uncertainty; it was a dream. They wanted to buy a home first — their home. A place that was theirs before they started the next chapter of their lives.

Their parents agreed, proud of their maturity. They thought it would take years, but destiny smiled faster this time. Within just two months, Shivani and Shubham found their dream house. And a few months later, they got married.

No grand proposal, no fireworks, no picture-perfect romance. Just two hearts that had already been home to each other for years, finally getting a roof to call their own.

Some stories don’t begin with “Will you be mine?” They begin with “Can I borrow your notes?” Shivani and Shubham never needed to confess their love — they lived it. Through distance, through silence, through laughter and late-night calls. They were never the couple that needed to shout their love out loud; they were the kind that simply held on — quietly, consistently, endlessly.

Because real love doesn’t always come with a proposal. Sometimes, it comes as a promise — to grow together, to wait together, and to build a life where both can say, “We made it.”

#flashfiction #shortstories #realstories #couplestories