A few weeks after Chapter 1

  The wind was strong that afternoon, tugging hard at the kites as they cut through the pale sky above Anirudh’s house. The terrace was quiet except for the fluttering string and the distant noise of the neighbourhood below. It felt like one of those days that passed without leaving a mark—uneventful, forgettable.

  Until I broke the silence.

  “Oh there's a woman,” I said suddenly, squinting into the distance.

  Anirudh sighed without looking at me. “Bro, you’ve already told me about her. Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “But I didn’t tell you what happened yesterday,” I said.

  That got his attention. He glanced at me. “Alright. What happened yesterday?”

  “After school, we walked together till her house,” I said. “She’s been acting… weird lately. Quieter. And yesterday she told me things about herself she hasn’t even told most people in her life.”

  Anirudh frowned slightly. “She already has a boyfriend, doesn’t she?”

  “Had,” I corrected. “She broke up with him a few days ago. And now she’s asking me for tips on how to move on.”

  Anirudh let out a short laugh. “How does she manage to pick literally the worst person in the world for that advice?”

  “I know, right?” I said. “That’s exactly what I told her. And then she started asking about my love life. Like—seriously, bruh.”

  He shook his head. “That’s rough.”

  “But that’s not even the shocking part,” I added. “The actual shocking part is that the guy she dated… he is younger than her.”

  Anirudh’s eyes widened. “Oh no. That’s creepy.”

  “He’s only a year younger,” I said quickly.

  “Still creepy,” he replied without hesitation.

  I smiled faintly. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. But she was really serious about him. I’ve known her for a while—she’s always been funny, playful, never taking anything too seriously. Seeing her like that… it caught me off guard.”

  Anirudh adjusted the kite string. “So why did they break up?”

  “She didn’t tell me everything,” I said. “But from what I understood, they fought. She got angry, said some things… and he walked away. Now she can’t forget him.”

  Anirudh looked at me. “So what did you do?”

  “What could I do?” I said quietly. “I tried to help. Told her to accept things as the way they are. Told her life gives second chances. That she’ll meet someone else.”

  “And?” he asked. “Did it help?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “She just said my life seems so much easier because I’ve already accepted everything the way it is.”

  Anirudh let out a dry chuckle. “If only she knew about your actual feelings.”

  I looked away. “Yeah. I wish.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Why don’t you just confess to her?”

  I almost laughed. “Confess? Now? Right after she broke up? Nah, man. That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  Anirudh stared at me like I was stupid. “Dude, now is exactly the most appropriate time. She’s emotionally vulnerable. And she needs a guy exactly like you.”

  “I thought about that too,” I said. “But just before she reached home, she casually mentioned she’s going on a date today.”

  Anirudh froze. “Wait—what?”

  “With a new guy,” I continued. “A friend of her ex.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “WHAT?” he shouted.

  “Yeah.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking believe this. Even if it was unintentional, she played with your feelings way too hard man. How does someone move on that fast?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe she’s doing it ‘for the plot.’ Or just trying to forget her ex. I asked her about it—but before she could answer, we reached her house. Her mother was there so I just left before she noticed us.”

  Anirudh went quiet for a moment. “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I talked to bhaiya about it too. He told me to respect her choices and just stop thinking about her. I mean… what else could he say?”

  I paused, tightening my grip on the string.

  “But my heart won’t give up that easily.”

  Anirudh’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea. Her birthday’s coming up, right? Do something special. A gift that actually means something to her. Maybe that’ll ignite some feelings inside her for you.”

  “I really want to,” I said. “But by now, she’s probably already got herself a new boyfriend. I don’t think she’ll ever see me as anything more than a friend.”

  He hesitated. “Shoot, you think so?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

  Anirudh shrugged, looking up at the sky. “I don’t know, man… lightning could strike.”

  The wind pulled hard at the kite.

  Not long after, I left Anirudh’s house—carrying more weight in my chest than when I’d arrived.

  The afternoon felt unusually quiet as I walked back home.

  The wind had softened, the streets nearly empty—shops half-closed, voices distant, like the world had decided to lower its volume. I walked without thinking, letting my feet carry me the familiar way.

  That’s when I saw her.

  Disha was sitting alone on a bench in the small park near my route home. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands clasped together in her lap, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She looked smaller somehow—like the weight she was carrying was too heavy for her to hold.

  I stopped walking.

  For a moment, I just stood there, confused.

  She was supposed to be on a date.

  That thought hit me harder than it should have.

  I walked toward her slowly, unsure if I should interrupt whatever storm was happening inside her head.

  “Disha?” I said softly.

  She looked up, startled. For a second, her eyes widened—then softened when she recognized me.

  “Amrendra…” she murmured.

  “What happened?” I asked. “I thought you were… busy.”

  She looked away immediately, shame flickering across her face.

  “I went out,” she said quietly. “I even left my house.”

  Then she paused.

  “But I couldn’t do it.”

  I sat down beside her, leaving just enough space for her to breathe.

  “I stood there for almost twenty minutes,” she continued, voice trembling. “I kept telling myself to just meet him. To try. To move on. But I couldn’t convince myself.”

  She let out a broken laugh. “I felt stupid. Weak. Ashamed.”

  I didn’t say anything. I knew better than to rush her words.

  “I don’t think I can move on,” she whispered. “No matter how hard I try.”

  She pressed her lips together, fighting tears. “Maybe… maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have argued with him. Maybe I’m just not good enough for people to stay.”

  That sentence shattered something inside me.

  “Disha—”

  She shook her head. “Every time someone gets close to me, I mess it up. I push them away. I piss them off. Why would anyone want to stay with someone like that?”

  Her voice cracked.

  And then she cried.

  Not loud. Not dramatic.

  Just silent tears slipping down her face, one after another.

  I had seen pain before. I had lived with it.

  But seeing her like this—questioning her worth, blaming herself—it hurt in a way I didn’t know how to explain.

  I reached out instinctively.

  And before I could stop myself, I pulled her into my arms.

  For a second, she froze.

  I felt her tense—surprised, uncertain.

  Then something broke.

  She leaned into me, gripping my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her sobs deepened, and she buried her face into my chest as if she had been holding everything in for far too long.

  I held her tightly.

  Not as a friend trying to fix things.

  Not as a boy hoping for something in return.

  Just as someone who couldn’t bear to let her feel alone.

  In that moment, she realized something.

  She realized how much she needed that hug.

  How much she needed someone to just be there—without expectations, without conditions.

  And slowly, I felt her arms wrap around me too.

  Tighter.

  Like she didn’t want to let go.

  Time stopped.

  The park disappeared.

  There was only her breathing, her warmth, and the quiet understanding growing between us.

  When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red—but calmer. Softer.

  She looked at me differently now.

  As if she was seeing me for the first time.

  “All this time…” she said slowly, “…I kept begging for love and attention from the wrong people.”

  Her gaze didn’t leave mine.

  “And I ignored the one person who was always here.”

  My heart skipped.

  Something changed in her eyes.

  Something real.

  Something mutual.

  She smiled—small, shy, genuine.

  And I smiled back.

  We didn’t say anything more.

  We didn’t need to.

  From that moment on, we were… something.

  Not officially. Not defined.

  But real.

  The next day at school, our eyes kept finding each other.

  Lingering longer than before.

  Saying things we were still too afraid to say out loud.

  That evening, as we walked toward her house, my chest felt like it might burst.

  I still didn’t have the courage to say it.

  So instead, I did what I could.

  I wrote four words in a book.

  I love you Disha

  I handed it to her without meeting her eyes.

  She laughed softly when she saw it.

  When we reached her gate, she turned back.

  Looked at me.

  Smiled.

  And nodded.

  Just once.

  Like the universe had finally agreed.

  Before going inside, she said, “You’re coming to my birthday, right?”

  I nodded, unable to stop smiling.

  And just like that—

  We were in love.