Are you Really In Love?

The first time Aanya saw Rishan, he was standing in a bookstore aisle, thumbing through a worn copy of The Little Prince. His hair was slightly messy, his brow furrowed, and something about the way he traced the lines on the page made her pause. It wasn’t love at first sight—at least, she didn’t think so—but it was something. Something enough to keep her coming back every Saturday at noon, hoping to run into him again.

They met officially three weeks later. He noticed her smile as she reached for a book he’d just returned to the shelf.

"You’ve got good taste," he said, nodding toward the cover.

"So do you," she replied, maybe a little too quickly.

Their conversation was easy, like they'd done it before. Over the next few months, what began as casual meetings over chai and poetry readings turned into long walks, text messages that stretched into the night, and shared silences that felt warm instead of awkward.

To everyone around her, it looked like Aanya was in love. She thought she might be too.

But something always tugged at her chest—an uncertainty she couldn’t name.

Rishan was kind, thoughtful, attentive. He remembered her favorite color, the exact way she liked her coffee, even the fact that she cried at animated movies. He called her "sunlight" on days she felt more like a storm cloud. He was everything she told herself she wanted.

And yet, on quiet evenings when he held her hand and the world seemed to fall away, a whisper would rise in her mind: Is this it?

She didn’t tell anyone, not even her best friend Mira. Who questions love when everything seems perfect?

But love—real love, she began to suspect—wasn’t just about compatibility or comfort. It had to be deeper. It had to feel... undeniable.

The turning point came on a trip to the hills. They’d planned it for weeks. The air was crisp, the landscape breathtaking. It was supposed to be the setting of a memory they'd cherish forever. And yet, halfway through a hike, Rishan told her he was thinking of moving abroad for a new job.

He expected her to be thrilled. He talked about opportunities, adventures, a future full of promise.

She smiled and nodded. But her chest tightened.

Not because he was leaving, but because she felt... relief.

Relief that she wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. That she wouldn’t have to keep asking herself if what they had was truly love or just a beautifully wrapped illusion.

That night, while he slept, Aanya sat outside their cabin and stared at the stars.

She thought of all the stories she’d read—of love that shook people to their core, love that felt like both a storm and a shelter. She thought of the stories she wanted to write one day. And she wondered, if she stayed with Rishan, would she ever write them?

Would she ever feel the kind of love that made her want to scream and dance and cry and breathe all at once?

When he woke up the next morning, she didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. She smiled, thanked him for the time they'd shared, and told him the truth.

“I think I wanted to be in love. And maybe I was... a little. But not the kind that lasts. Not the kind that should follow you across oceans.”

Rishan didn’t argue. He just looked at her for a long time, then nodded.

In the months that followed, Aanya felt both free and uncertain. There were moments of loneliness, sure. But there was also clarity. She no longer looked for love that merely fit—she waited for love that felt.

And sometimes, that made all the difference.