The Ones Who Stay

Aanya had always been good at leaving. It was a skill she had perfected over the years, like a quiet art form—one that required no announcements, no explanations, just a slow, measured retreat before anyone could notice.

She had learned early that love was fragile, fleeting. First, it was her grandmother, the one person who had made her feel safe, taken away from her too soon. The warmth of her lap, the scent of sandalwood from her saree, the bedtime stories that made Aanya feel like the world was a kinder place—gone in an instant. No one had prepared her for that kind of emptiness.

Then, there was Shraddha, her childhood best friend. They had done everything together—scribbled secrets in notebooks, planned their future, promised they would never be apart. But people grow, and promises don’t always hold. Shraddha moved away, and at first, they tried. Calls, letters, messages. But life happened, new friendships bloomed, and slowly, the girl who once knew all of Aanya’s fears became a name she barely saw on social media.

And finally, there was Pranav—the man she thought she would spend her life with. He had made her believe in love again, in the kind of partnership that wasn’t temporary. But one day, he simply said he needed space, and then, like the others, he was gone. Aanya never asked for explanations. She had learned by then that people didn’t owe her permanence.

So, she stopped believing in it altogether.

And then, unexpectedly, Rohan walked into her life.

She hadn’t planned on letting him in. He was just supposed to be another passing face, someone she would keep at a safe distance. But Rohan didn’t work like that. He had a way of existing in her space without demanding too much, a quiet kind of presence that felt both comforting and intrusive.

They met at a café near her apartment, where she often sat with her laptop, pretending to be busy enough that no one would try to talk to her. But Rohan, with his easy charm and unshakable patience, didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Alone again?” he asked one evening, sliding into the chair across from her before she could protest.

“I like being alone,” she replied without looking up.

“I don’t believe that,” he said casually, stirring his coffee. “I think you just don’t like the risk of not being alone.”

She bristled but said nothing. Rohan was observant, and she wasn’t sure yet if that was a good or bad thing.

He noticed everything.

The way she hesitated before making promises. The way she smiled but kept conversations just light enough to avoid meaning. The way she always left before goodbyes had to be said.

And yet, he stayed.

That was the problem. He didn’t chase after her when she pulled away, nor did he let her disappear entirely. He was just there—persistent, unwavering. His presence made her feel safe, and that terrified her. Because if she let herself rely on him, if she allowed herself to need him, what would happen when he left too?

The first time she realized how much he mattered was on a random Wednesday night. They were walking back from a bookstore, Rohan carrying a bag of novels she had picked but insisted she wouldn’t read. The air was cool, the streets quieter than usual. She felt strangely at peace, until a thought struck her—what if this, too, didn’t last?

“What are we doing?” she asked suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

Rohan turned to her, puzzled. “Walking?”

“No, I mean—this. You and me. Why are you still here?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Do you want me to leave?”

Yes. No. She didn’t know. The thought of him leaving made her stomach drop, but the thought of getting used to him staying was just as terrifying.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Rohan sighed, his expression unreadable. Then he said, “I know why you run, Aanya. I know why you push people away before they can leave. But not everyone is meant to walk out of your life.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “And what if you do?”

He took a step closer, his voice softer now. “Then that’s a risk you’ll have to take. But maybe, just maybe, I’m not going anywhere.”

Aanya wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. But deep down, she knew he wasn’t.

That night, she lay awake, thinking about all the times she had walked away. About how leaving had always felt like protection, but now, for the first time, it felt like fear.

Days passed, and Aanya still found herself caught between her instincts and her desires. She tried to sabotage what they had—ignored his texts, picked fights over trivial things, made excuses to cancel plans. But Rohan never reacted the way she expected. He didn’t beg for her attention, nor did he walk away. He simply remained.

One evening, she stood outside his apartment, debating whether to knock. The fear inside her screamed at her to turn around, to leave before she got too close. But something else, something quieter but stronger, told her to stay.

When he opened the door, she met his gaze and said, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t have to know,” Rohan replied. “Just don’t leave this time.”

Aanya took a shaky breath. And for the first time in her life, she didn’t.