Unspoken Melodies

Episode 12: Behind Closed Doors

The air was thick with tension as Arjun walked into his room, the soft hum of his guitar the only sound in the quiet space. He hadn’t been able to sleep for days, the weight of the secret Diya was carrying pressing down on him. He had seen her at the hotel just days before. The bright, polished facade of the luxurious building didn’t match the exhaustion etched into her features. He had stood in the shadows, watching her work, his heart breaking as he realized how far she had fallen.

Diya had always been the girl who lived in the sun, the golden child with a future already written for her. Now, here she was, hiding her struggle in plain sight. She had lied to her friends, pretending everything was fine. They didn’t know. None of them did. And she wasn’t going to let them. Not even Arjun, who had been by her side through every joy and heartbreak, could know the truth.

As the days passed, Arjun’s feelings for her grew more complicated. He could see the toll the hotel work was taking on her. She was becoming a shadow of the girl he had once known—tired, distant, and withdrawn. But Diya refused to let him help. Whenever he offered, her walls went up higher, her voice colder. She was proud, too proud to accept his assistance, even though he had the means to make her life easier.

Arjun didn’t know how to reach her anymore. Every time he tried, she pushed him away. And so, he did what he knew best—he channeled his frustration into his music. He spent hours strumming his guitar, his fingers bleeding, his mind consumed by thoughts of Diya. Yet, no matter how much he played, the loneliness grew. The emptiness inside him deepened as his dreams seemed farther and farther away. The fame, the stage, the career—none of it mattered if he couldn’t fix the girl he loved.

It was late one night when it all came crashing down. Arjun sat on the edge of his bed, the room dimly lit by the streetlight outside. His guitar lay discarded beside him, the strings silent, his hands trembling. He had tried to bury his emotions, but they had been building up for weeks, a storm waiting to break. He closed his eyes, and the images of Diya flooded his mind—the way she had smiled at him when they first met, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her dreams, the warmth of her hand in his.

But now, she was slipping away from him. The distance between them grew wider every day. He had told himself it was because of her pride, that she wouldn’t accept his help. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. She was ashamed. Ashamed of her situation, ashamed that her life had unraveled in such a way. And Arjun, for all his love, was helpless. He could offer her the world, but she wouldn’t take it.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he let the music take over, his fingers moving absentmindedly over the strings. The pain was raw, his heart breaking in ways he couldn’t articulate. The song that emerged was a desperate cry, a reflection of everything he was feeling—his love for Diya, his helplessness, his frustration, and the loneliness that haunted him.

“Why can’t you see?” Arjun whispered to himself as he sang. “Why can’t you let me in?”

The tears fell freely now, his body trembling with the intensity of his emotions. He had always been the strong one, the one who held others up. But tonight, it was different. He couldn’t hold it together anymore. His dreams of fame, of music, of a future with Diya—all of it felt so far out of reach. He couldn’t protect her from the world, couldn’t save her from herself. And it hurt more than he had ever imagined.

His song faded into the quiet night, the only sound the soft beat of his heart. The music didn’t give him the answers he sought, but it offered him something else—a release. A chance to cry when words failed him.

As the night wore on, Arjun finally fell into a restless sleep, the weight of his heart too much to bear. The world outside kept moving, but inside him, everything felt frozen. Tomorrow, he would rise again. He would face the music, face his career, and face Diya. But tonight, for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel the pain.

In the dark, his tears soaked the pillow, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to mourn the love that seemed to be slipping through his fingers.