After that day, everything shifted between us. I could feel it, a change so tangible it was as if the air between us had thickened with unspoken words, a pulse of something deeper that neither of us could ignore. Romance didn’t just linger between us; it followed me everywhere, like a quiet shadow. He was constantly on my mind, and there was no escape. I didn’t want to escape. Something about him brought me peace, yet made my heart race at times. It was intoxicating—the thrill of carrying these fluttering butterflies with me, like a secret only I could savour. Was it love? I couldn’t say. It was one-sided admiration for sure, yet it had a way of making things sparkle, turning mundane moments into something extraordinary. I often found myself smiling at the thought of him. Ah, what a fool I was.
It was the vivid image I held of him. Just a white shirt, rolled sleeves, navy blue pants, black shoes, and messy hair—except for that one day when it was perfectly set. It made him look surreal, like a vision I couldn’t resist: his charm, my god. I’d die. It became my habit to notice him every day, catching every glance I could, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But when he approached me about my glances, my world stopped.
Now that everything was changing, I wondered how a small shift could make everything feel so different. Coming from a hurtful past, this small joy, this little spark of hope for love, lured me to feel alive. Negativity couldn’t touch me. Thoughts of him shielded me from the harsher reality outside. A part of me knew that I was being delusional.
I wasn’t sure if he felt it too, but there was something exciting about the uncertainty. At least I hoped there would be. It was enough to feel something real and raw for someone as effortlessly charming as him. I didn’t need his reciprocation to live in the feeling, though a tiny part of me—a quiet hope—whispered that maybe, just maybe, things would be different now. That whisper kept me awake at night, crafting daydreams of how the story of us might bloom.
But then, something happened that took me off guard. I entered the room next day, for work, of course. I saw it filled with people, the low hum of chatter filling the silence. It seemed as if no break or pause could halt the conversation until, he walked in. Instantly, everyone hushed and took their seats. He greeted everyone as he entered, and I looked down, avoiding eye contact. But I couldn’t help catching a glimpse of his smile, mesmerising as always. As lesson began, I drifted into my thoughts, lost in the familiar warmth of his presence. I barely noticed when the lesson ended, and everyone began to leave. He walked out straight without a second glance, and my heart sank. Overthinking rushed in, clouding my thoughts and flushing my cheeks red. I hoped he'd at least pass me smile...
What was I expecting anyway? It wasn’t like my daydreams would somehow become real, right?
Later that day, my friends and I decided to linger in the courtyard, discussing life and sharing stories. The conversation was lively until I saw him again. My heart clenched with a familiar ache, the painful reality that he might never be part of my life sinking in. To distract myself, I joined in the discussion with all my attention. Soon, the conversation turned to patriotism, self awareness and human insecurities, and the conversation quickly grew heated. All five of us were arguing like cats and dogs, tossing around legal jargon as if we were in court. To support my stand, I decided to head to the library, and as fate would have it, he was walking beside me. My heart raced. I wanted to ask his opinion, but nerves held me back. We both entered the library, each taking a different path. Then, on a whim, I noticed him leaving, and something in me surged forward. I wasn’t feeling like myself as I called his name.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he replied, stopping and turning to me with a slight smile. “What’s on your mind?”
“Um… what’s your take on insecurities? Do you think... insecurities define a person's sense of self?”
He raised an eyebrow, pausing thoughtfully. “Hmm... Absolutely” he echoed. “Yeah, I'd say it depends on the individual to let that happen.”
“Right… makes sense. Thanks.” I nodded, hoping my casual tone masked the nervousness I felt.
He gave a small nod, his eyes lingering for a second before he walked away, and the rush of embarrassment I had was unmeasurable. Why do I do things that make me feel this way? I have no idea!
I wanted to rush home and drench myself in the embarrassment of making things weird with him. But I decided to stay back and rather find something to read, something that would distract me. I knew for sure that I had to stop thinking about it because maybe it didn’t mean the same to him.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, crimson glow across the courtyard. Almost everyone left. I could sense the silence of the weekend knowing for sure that I could spend my evening at the library digging through some research papers. I made a list of all the topics I needed to read about. It was a huge one. After all, covering feminism, the International theory of war, gender wasn’t going to be a child’s play.
A few hours later, as I wandered back to gather my things, I found the hallway outside the library almost deserted. And then I saw him—sitting alone in one of the nooks, his head tilted slightly as he glanced over his phone, lost in thought.
My heart skipped a beat, but before I could convince myself to keep walking, he looked up and our eyes met.
“Oh, umm” I stammered, caught off guard. “I didn’t think anyone would be here this late.”
He smiled, that charming, casual smile that always seemed to calm me and make my pulse race at the same time. “Neither did I,” he replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Guess we both had the same idea.”
I hesitated, unsure if I should stay or leave, but something about the quiet warmth of the moment made me want to linger. Before I knew it, I sat across from him, my cheeks felt warm under his soft gaze.
“So…was my insight useful to you?” he teased, with humour in his eyes. I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “Not exactly,” I replied, feigning nonchalance. “But I have to admit, I was kind of hoping for something more… but then I did think about what you said, so that was helpful anyway.”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Well, I’ll take that as a win,” he said, his voice low. His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world but us. I decided to get up to get a book from the rack next to us. As I was browsing, I noticed him walk towards me. He stood beside me and asked about my preferences. I thought he was mocking me because I picked up Harry Potter. I just wanted to read it casually. So, to defend myself I looked up at him to answer but…
I saw him standing in front of me. He stood tall and strong. I could feel my heart pounding faster and faster with each passing second. His eyes behind his spectacles held a story I wasn't sure how to decode. The air between us was thick with something I couldn’t quite name, a magnetic pull drawing me closer. I noticed his veiny hands, his fingers moving as if he was thinking what to do next. He moved a little closer. My breath caught as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I felt a wave of heat spread through me.
“You have this…way about you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like you’re always watching, always thinking. It’s intriguing.”
I swallowed, my heart hammering in my chest. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, caught in the spell of the moment.
“You know,” I whispered, barely able to keep my voice steady, “I… I wasn’t sure if you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I notice more than you might think.”
We were so close now, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that his scent—a mix of something fresh and warm—wrapped around me, making it hard to think clearly.
And then, it felt as if we were pulled by an invisible thread, we both leaned in, the space between us shrinking until our faces were mere inches apart. His eyes held mine, searching, questioning, and for a fleeting moment, I was certain he felt it too—the same undeniable pull, the same quiet ache that had been building inside me for so long.
Just as our lips were about to meet, footsteps echoed down the hallway, snapping us both out of the moment. We pulled back, breathless, the spell broken but the tension still lingering in the air between us.
I looked away, feeling my cheeks flush. “I… I should go,” I managed to barely speak up.
He nodded, and he prolonged his glare on me for a moment longer before he spoke. “Yeah… me too.”
We stood there, both hesitant to leave as if somehow acknowledging that the moment we’d almost shared would change everything. As I walked away, my heart racing and my mind numb with endless thoughts of emotions, I knew that nothing between us would ever be the same. And maybe, this is the beginning of our story.
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