Aanya never heard her alarm the next morning. What woke her instead was music.
Not the harsh, blaring kind. This was… soft. A guitar riff, mellow and warm, floating in like the breeze. Her eyelids fluttered open. She glanced toward her balcony—and there he was.
Ruhan.
Headphones on. Eyes closed. Strumming a sunburst guitar with fingers that moved like they'd done it a thousand times. He wasn't showing off. Just... lost in his own world.
She sat up and watched quietly. The music didn't have words, but somehow, it said a lot.
Then he opened his eyes. And saw her.
Aanya flinched, caught in the act. She turned away, busying herself with nothing. But she could feel his eyes on her.
And then he did something that made her blink.
He unplugged his headphones.
And the music filled the air between them.
Aanya stood frozen on her balcony, hands gripping the railing. The tune was beautiful, simple, raw—like a memory you hadn't made yet.
"Morning," he called out, voice light, not pushy.
Aanya hesitated. "...Good morning."
His grin widened like the sun just rose for him. "Thought I was disturbing you. But you looked like you were listening."
"I wasn't," she lied.
He laughed. "You were."
She pressed her lips into a tight line, then looked at him properly for the first time. He was wearing a loose gray tee and pajama pants. Hair messy. Like he hadn't decided yet if he was awake or still dreaming.
"I'm Ruhan," he said, slinging the guitar back into its case. "Moved in last night."
She nodded. "I know."
"Oh? So you were watching."
She blinked. "No. You were... loud."
Ruhan chuckled. "Fair."
A brief silence.
Then he raised a cup. "Coffee?"
Aanya frowned. "You're offering me coffee from your side of the building?"
"I mean... if I throw hard enough—"
"Don't."
"—or you could come over?"
She stared at him.
He shrugged. "Just a joke."
Aanya gave him a tiny smirk. It lasted a second, but Ruhan saw it. Like a sunrise in winter—it meant more because it was rare.
"Anyway," he said, lifting his cup again, "cheers to new balconies and strange neighbors."
She raised her own mug of unfinished coffee and tapped the rim softly.
"Cheers," she whispered.
And just like that, the balcony wasn't just a space anymore. It was a bridge.