By the time the sky began to turn a bruised purple, signaling the dawn, the audio version of the track had played a dozen times. Kabir pulled into his driveway, but he didn't turn off the engine. He didn't want the music to stop, because as long as the song was playing and the line was open, the night didn't have to end. "You still there?" he asked. "Saari raat," she promised.
They talked about everything and nothing—the way the moon looked from her balcony, the dreams they were too scared to chase during the daylight, and the melody that seemed to loop perfectly with the hum of the engine. By the time the sky began to turn
"Just driving," Kabir replied, leaning back. "And listening to our song." "You still there
His phone vibrated in the cup holder. The name on the screen made his heart skip. "Just driving," Kabir replied, leaning back
"Still awake?" Shreya’s voice came through, soft and slightly raspy from sleep—or the lack of it.
"Exactly. It’s 2022, Shreya. Who actually stays on a call all night anymore?" "We do," she whispered.
The neon glow of the dashboard clock ticked past 2:00 AM, casting a soft blue light over Kabir’s face. Outside, the highway stretched into a blur of black asphalt and yellow lines, but inside the car, the world felt small and intimate.
