The Window Between Us - Final Part
- Aaditya Mehta
- Jul 17, 2025
- 2 min read
Updated: Jul 17, 2025
The next morning, Deepa stepped into her balcony, cradling her cup of tea like always. As she looked across, something new caught her eye.
On Dishant’s windowsill sat a small terracotta pot with a fresh money plant. It wasn’t there before.
She smiled.
Later that afternoon, she texted:
"You planted something?"
Dishant replied:
"Thought it could use a little sunlight. Like someone I know."
She didn’t say anything for a while. But when evening came, she returned to her balcony with her own tiny mug-shaped planter in hand, one she hadn’t used in months.
She placed it on the railing and looked across.
This time, when their eyes met, no one waved.
They just smiled.
The days moved more slowly now. Not because of the lockdown, but because they both had begun to notice them more.
Some mornings passed with no messages at all. Just quiet tea and glances. Other times, one would send a random voice note - about a dream, or a recipe, or an old memory the city had somehow pulled out.
They never called what they had anything. It wasn’t love. Not yet. It wasn’t friendship, either. It was just something that felt safe.
One afternoon, Deepa texted:
"They’re easing lockdown rules next week. I might visit my sister’s place for a bit."
Dishant stared at the message longer than he thought he would. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a goodbye. But it stirred something.
He replied:
"You should. Get out a little. You’ll like that."
She sent a simple smile emoji.
The next morning, her balcony was empty.
But Dishant wasn’t surprised. She had mentioned she would leave early.
He stood by his window for a few minutes longer than usual, tea growing cold in his hand.
Then he glanced down at the little plant on his sill, the one that had quietly grown over the past few weeks, leaves stretching toward the light.
Across the lane, her tiny mug planter was still there. Soil watered. A fresh sprout pushing its way up.
A few hours later, his phone buzzed. A photo from Deepa.
She was sitting on a train, sunlight hitting her face through the window. Text below it read:
"Turns out, some windows don’t close when you leave. They stay open inside you."
Dishant didn’t reply.
He just saved the picture.
And went back to water the plant.
“Some people don’t walk into your life. They grow into it, one quiet moment at a time.”
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