They stood like that for a while, hands entwined, the world reduced to the space between them. The city’s lights flickered in the distance, but here, on the Durgam Cheruvu Hanging Bridge, it was just them and the night. Ananya tilted her head up, and Arjun’s gaze met hers. Slowly, he leaned in, and their lips met—a soft, tentative kiss that deepened into something certain, something that felt like a promise

The Durgam Cheruvu Hanging Bridge swayed gently under the Hyderabad night sky, its cables humming a soft tune in the cool breeze. The lake below shimmered, reflecting the city’s distant lights and the silver glow of a nearly full moon. Ananya stood at the bridge’s midpoint, her fingers curled around the railing, her heart racing—not from the bridge’s subtle sway but from the anticipation of seeing him again.

She hadn’t meant to fall for Arjun. They’d met three months ago at a tech conference in Madhapur, where their banter over cloud computing turned into coffee, then dinners, then stolen moments at Hyderabad’s bustling cafes. He was all sharp wit and quiet intensity, with eyes that seemed to hold secrets only she could unravel. But tonight felt different. Tonight, they’d agreed to meet here, on this bridge, a place that felt suspended between reality and a dream.

Ananya glanced at her watch—9:15 p.m. He was late, as usual. She smiled to herself, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The bridge, a modern marvel stretching over the serene Durgam Cheruvu Lake, was nearly empty. A few couples strolled by, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves from the trees lining the lake’s edge. The air carried the faint scent of jasmine and water, a rare reprieve from Hyderabad’s urban clamor.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Arjun: Five minutes. Don’t jump off without me. She rolled her eyes, typing back, Hurry, or I’ll find a new bridge buddy. She tucked her phone away, her gaze drifting to the water below. The lake’s surface rippled, catching the moonlight like a canvas of liquid silver. She wondered if Arjun felt the same pull she did—the unspoken gravity that had drawn them closer with every meeting.

Footsteps echoed on the bridge’s wooden planks. She turned, and there he was, his silhouette framed against the city’s skyline. Arjun wore a dark jacket, his hair slightly tousled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he approached. “Sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “Traffic in Hitech City is a nightmare.”

“You’re lucky this view is worth waiting for,” Ananya teased, gesturing to the lake.

He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned against the railing. “The view’s not bad,” he said, but his eyes were on her, not the lake. Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away, suddenly shy under his gaze.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the bridge swaying gently beneath them. The city felt far away, its noise muffled by the lake’s tranquility. Ananya traced the railing with her finger, gathering her courage. “Why here?” she asked. “Of all places, why’d you pick this bridge?”

Arjun’s smile softened. “I used to come here as a kid with my dad. We’d walk across, and he’d tell me stories about how this lake was a secret, hidden from the world. Said it was a place where you could hear your own thoughts.” He paused, glancing at her. “I figured it’s a good spot to hear… other things too.”

Her heart skipped. “Other things?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. “I wrote something,” he said, his voice quieter now. “For you.”

Ananya’s breath caught. “You wrote something? Mr. Code-and-Logic wrote something?”

He laughed, a low, nervous sound. “Don’t mock me yet. It’s not poetry or anything fancy. Just… words.” He handed her the paper, his fingers brushing hers. The touch sent a spark through her, and she unfolded the note with trembling hands.

In his neat, slanted handwriting, it read: Ananya, you’re the glitch I never want to fix. Every time I’m with you, the world makes a little more sense. I don’t know what this is, but I know I want it—us—for as long as you’ll let me.

She read it twice, her throat tight. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything unsaid between them. She looked up, and Arjun was watching her, his usual confidence replaced by a rare vulnerability.

“Arjun…” she started, but words failed her. Instead, she stepped closer, closing the gap between them. The bridge swayed, as if urging them together. She reached for his hand, and he laced his fingers through hers, his touch warm and steady.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I’ve never been good at this—saying what I feel. But you make me want to try.”

Ananya’s heart pounded. She’d spent weeks wondering if this was real, if the spark between them could withstand the chaos of their lives—her demanding job at a startup, his late nights debugging code. But here, on this bridge, with the lake whispering below and the moon watching above, it felt like they could.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… us… it’s big.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Me too. But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

The words hung between them, heavy and true. Ananya laughed, a nervous, joyful sound, and leaned her head against his shoulder. The bridge creaked softly, and the lake’s ripples seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat.

They stood like that for a while, hands entwined, the world reduced to the space between them. The city’s lights flickered in the distance, but here, on the Durgam Cheruvu Hanging Bridge, it was just them and the night. Ananya tilted her head up, and Arjun’s gaze met hers. Slowly, he leaned in, and their lips met—a soft, tentative kiss that deepened into something certain, something that felt like a promise.

When they pulled back, Ananya’s smile mirrored his. “You’re not bad at this feelings thing,” she teased.

“Give me a few more tries,” he said, grinning. “I’ll get better.”

They laughed, the sound carrying over the lake. As they walked back across the bridge, hand in hand, the moon cast their shadows long and intertwined, like a story just beginning to unfold.