They are felt.

That night, Aarohi didn’t sleep.

She stared at the address Vivaan had left behind — like it was a clue from the universe.

> “Chaitanya Art Gallery, Pune.”

Her hands trembled as she packed a small bag.

No goodbye note.

No explanation.

Just a decision: I need to see him.

---

The train station smelled like old dreams and wet clothes.

She stood there, soaked in rain, waiting for the last train out of the city.

As the train moved, her heart did too — fast, scared, alive.

Every drop on the window whispered:

> “You’re doing the right thing.”

She didn’t know what she would say to him.

She didn’t know if he would even be there.

All she knew was — she couldn’t let the silence win again.

---

By the time she reached Pune, it was morning.

Sky was gray. Roads were wet.

She asked around, took a cab, and finally stood outside a small white building:

> “Chaitanya Art Gallery”

It was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Inside, the smell of paint hit her like memory.

Canvas. Colors. Calm.

She walked slowly, looking at the paintings — each one like a piece of someone’s soul.

And then…

She saw it.

A painting on the far wall.

A girl standing by a window.

Hands clutching a red notebook.

Eyes filled with something between pain and hope.

It was her.

Aarohi stepped closer. Her breath caught in her throat.

> “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

She turned.

Vivaan.

Standing a few feet away.

Holding a brush.

Eyes wide. Voice soft.

Time stopped.

She didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

They just looked at each other.

> “You’re still painting me…” she whispered.

> “I never stopped seeing you,” he replied.

---

End of Chapter 10