The Dance We Never Had

The soft glow of chandeliers bathed the ballroom in golden light. Laughter and music blended into the background as elegantly dressed couples swayed across the polished floor. Asha stood at the edge of the room, her fingers tightening around the delicate stem of her champagne glass. She wasn’t supposed to be here—not in this city, not in this moment, not in his presence.

Yet, fate had other plans.

Across the room, Karan stood near the grand staircase, looking effortlessly handsome in a crisp black suit. His dark eyes scanned the crowd, and then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, they met hers. The air between them shifted. The noise of the party faded. For a moment, it was just them, just the weight of everything they had left unsaid.

Asha’s heart clenched.

Ten years.

It had been ten years since the night they were supposed to dance. The night she had waited for him, full of hope, only to be met with disappointment. He had promised her one dance at their college farewell party. Just one. She had worn a blue dress, the one he had once said made her look like the sky before a monsoon. She had waited under the dim fairy lights, her heart pounding, her fingers nervously smoothing down the fabric.

But Karan never came.

No messages. No goodbyes. Just silence.

She had spent years trying to forget him, to convince herself that it had never meant anything. But standing here now, with his gaze locked onto hers, she knew she had only been lying to herself.

Before she could turn away, he was moving towards her.

"Asha," he said, his voice deep, carrying a mix of relief and hesitation.

She lifted her chin, her expression carefully unreadable. "Karan."

"You look…" He let out a breath, as if searching for the right word. "Beautiful."

She gave a small, polite smile. "So, is this where you disappear again?"

Regret flickered in his eyes. "I deserve that." He hesitated before adding, "I never got to explain."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think an explanation will change the past?"

"No," he admitted. "But I’d still like to give you one."

Asha sighed, her resolve cracking just a little. "Fine. Why didn’t you show up that night?"

Karan exhaled slowly. "Because I was a coward."

That wasn’t what she had expected.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she remembered all too well. "I was in love with you, Asha. And I was terrified of what that meant. That dance—it wasn’t just a dance for me. It would have changed everything. And I was too much of a fool to face it."

Her breath hitched. "You never told me."

"I know," he said softly. "And it’s my biggest regret."

Asha looked down, memories flooding back. The way they had always found excuses to be around each other. The stolen glances, the inside jokes, the lingering touches that had always meant more than friendship. She had been in love with him too. And for years, she had wondered—what if?

The band started playing a slow, familiar tune. Karan extended his hand.

"One dance," he said, a small smile on his lips. "The one we never had."

She hesitated. Could she trust him? Could she let herself feel again?

Then, as if answering her own doubts, she placed her hand in his.

Karan pulled her close, his arm resting gently against her back. They swayed to the rhythm, and for the first time in a decade, Asha let herself melt into the moment. His warmth, his presence—it felt like coming home.

"I'm not running this time," he whispered against her hair.

She closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Neither am I," she whispered back.

And just like that, they reclaimed the moment they had lost.

The dance they never had.