Akriti was the kind of girl who spoke less but felt everything deeply. Her world was small — her parents, her younger brother, her college, and the little dreams she never told anyone. She lived in a quiet town where every morning smelled of tea and old memories.

Her days were simple. She woke up early, helped her mother in the kitchen, and then left for college by bus. She always sat near the window, watching people, trees, and clouds. She liked silence — not because she had nothing to say, but because she had too much in her heart.

Her father was strict but caring. He wanted his daughter to finish college and then get married into a “good” family. Her mother often said, “A girl’s happiness is where her family’s peace stays.” Akriti believed that too — until she met him.

It was an ordinary Monday when it all began.

She was in the college library, searching for a literature book. The shelf was high, and she stood on her toes, trying to reach it. The book slipped. Before it could fall, a hand caught it gently.

“You were about to lose this,” a calm voice said.

She turned — and met Aarav for the first time.

He was tall, wearing a white shirt and simple smile. There was nothing extraordinary about him, yet something in his eyes felt peaceful, like he understood her silence.

“Thank you,” Akriti said softly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “You like poetry?”

She nodded. “Sometimes. It feels real.”

“That’s rare,” he smiled. “Most people read poetry but don’t feel it.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled a little and walked away. But when she sat at her desk, her heart felt strange — light, nervous, alive.

From that day, she started noticing him everywhere — in the canteen, near the corridor, at the bus stop. He always smiled politely, never too much, never too little. It was as if their eyes spoke a quiet language no one else could hear.

A week later, they met again in the library. Aarav was sitting at the same table, and this time he asked, “You always read the last pages first?”

She looked up, surprised. “You noticed?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing softly. “You check the ending before you start — like someone who wants to know if things turn out fine.”

Akriti looked down. “Maybe… because I’m afraid of sad endings.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them was filled with something unspoken — a slow connection.

They started talking more after that. About books, life, dreams, and sometimes, silence. Aarav had a calm nature; he listened more than he spoke. Akriti felt safe around him — something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

One day, while walking out of college, Aarav asked, “You always go home alone?”

“Yes,” she said. “My bus stop is near the park.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he said gently. “It’s not safe alone.”

She wanted to refuse but didn’t. They walked side by side, talking about little things — rain, tea, exams, and everything that didn’t really matter but somehow did.

When the bus arrived, she looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking with me.”

Aarav smiled. “I don’t mind. I like your company.”

That night, Akriti couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know why, but her heart was smiling. She replayed their small talks again and again in her mind, like a song that never got old.

Days turned into weeks, and their friendship grew quietly.

Aarav became her closest friend — someone who noticed when she was tired, who waited for her at the gate when it rained, who brought her hot tea when she forgot her lunch.

He never said anything, but Akriti could feel it — the warmth between them, growing like sunlight after a long winter.

Still, somewhere in her heart, she was scared. She knew her father would never understand. She knew love was a forbidden word in her home. But when she saw Aarav waiting for her at the bus stop every evening, smiling softly, she couldn’t help but wish for a world where love wasn’t a sin.

That night, she stood by the window, watching the stars, whispering to herself —

> “Maybe… some stories are meant to begin, even if they never end.”

And just like that, Akriti’s story began — not with a promise, but with a feeling too deep for words.

Days passed quietly after that first meeting.

Akriti often saw Aarav in the library, always reading alone, headphones in his ears, his world peaceful and calm. She never went near him, yet her eyes always found him. Something about his presence made the noisy world feel quiet.

One afternoon, the library was nearly empty. Akriti sat in the corner, trying to read a storybook, but her thoughts were far away. A shadow fell across her desk. She looked up — it was Aarav.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, you can.”

He sat down, opened his notebook, and for a few minutes, they both stayed silent. The air around them felt warm but comfortable. Then Aarav spoke, still looking at his notebook.

“You know, you always sit near the window,” he said. “Any reason?”

Akriti smiled slightly. “I like sunlight. It makes the world look softer.”

“That’s poetic,” he said, smiling. “You should write.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, I just… think too much.”

“Then writing will help,” he said softly. “When you can’t tell anyone, paper listens.”

She looked at him, surprised by his gentle tone. “You write?”

“Sometimes,” Aarav said. “Mostly when I miss something I never had.”

She didn’t understand fully, but those words stayed in her mind. Miss something I never had.

They kept echoing, long after she went home.

---

The next few days, their small talks became a habit. Sometimes, it was a smile from far; other times, a short walk from class to bus stop.

They talked about silly things — like how she hated math, how he burned toast every morning, or how they both loved the sound of rain on the roof.

Aarav was funny without trying to be. He made her laugh in ways she hadn’t laughed before.

One evening, while waiting for the bus, he asked, “You always carry this heavy bag. What’s inside?”

“Books,” she said.

He laughed. “All these? What are you reading — the whole library?”

She smiled. “Maybe. I like stories. They make me forget real life for a while.”

He looked at her with soft eyes. “And what if real life becomes a story someday?”

Akriti froze for a moment, then looked away. “Then I hope it has a good ending.”

---

That night, she couldn’t stop thinking about that line.

She realized she had started smiling without reason, daydreaming in class, and waiting for his messages — even though they barely texted.

Her friend Nisha noticed and teased, “Someone’s falling in love.”

Akriti blushed and said, “No, it’s not like that.”

But deep inside, she knew — it was like that. She had started caring.

His words, his smile, his kindness — everything about him stayed with her.

---

A week later, something unexpected happened.

Her father came home angry. He had fought with someone at work, and her mother was silent, trying not to upset him further.

During dinner, he said, “Akriti, finish your degree soon. We’ll start looking for a good match next year.”

Her spoon froze midway. “Papa, I… I don’t want to marry so soon.”

He frowned. “Why not? You’ll finish college. What else is there?”

“I want to work,” she said softly. “At least for some time.”

Her father sighed. “A girl’s work is her family, Akriti. Don’t start dreaming useless things.”

She looked down, her heart sinking.

That night, she sat near the window again, watching the dark sky. Aarav’s words came back to her — “When you can’t tell anyone, paper listens.”

She opened her notebook and started writing —

> “I wish life was as kind as the boy in the library.”

---

The next morning, she met Aarav again at the bus stop. He looked at her and said, “You look tired. Didn’t sleep?”

“Just thinking,” she said.

“About what?”

“About life,” she said, smiling sadly.

He looked at her quietly. “If it’s too heavy, you can share some of it with me.”

Something in his voice — honest, gentle, patient — made her heart ache a little.

She wanted to tell him everything — about her father, her fears, her dreams — but she couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she smiled faintly and said, “Thank you, Aarav. Maybe someday.”

He smiled back. “Someday, then.”

That night, Akriti realized something had changed.

Aarav was no longer just a boy she met by chance. He had become her safe place — the one person who saw her heart without her having to explain it.

And as she closed her diary that night, she whispered to herself,

> “Maybe this is how love begins — not with words, but with understanding.”

The monsoon arrived early that year. The skies stayed gray for days, and the air smelled of wet soil and new beginnings.

Akriti loved the rain. It made everything look softer — the trees, the roads, even people’s faces.

One morning, she stood near the classroom window, watching the rain pour outside. Most students were busy chatting, but she was lost in the rhythm of the drops hitting the glass.

“Dreaming again?”

She turned. It was Aarav, smiling with his umbrella in hand.

Akriti laughed softly. “You always find me near windows.”

“And you always look like you’re searching for something outside them,” he replied.

She didn’t answer. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was searching — for peace, for freedom, for something unnamed.

---

When the class ended, the rain was heavier. Students ran outside with bags over their heads. Akriti stood at the door, waiting, unsure whether to run or stay.

Aarav came beside her and opened his umbrella. “Come, I’ll drop you near the bus stop.”

She hesitated. “It’s okay, I’ll go later.”

He looked at her with a teasing smile. “Then I’ll also wait. No fun walking alone.”

She laughed quietly and stepped under the umbrella. The world outside smelled of rain and mud. Puddles covered the road, and the sound of water filled the air.

They walked slowly, careful not to slip. Once, she almost lost balance, and Aarav caught her hand.

“Careful,” he said, holding it for a moment too long.

Their eyes met — for just a few seconds — but something changed between them in that small silence. Her heart started beating faster, and she quickly looked away.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anytime,” he replied softly.

---

At the bus stop, they waited under a small tin roof. Rain was falling hard, and their shoes were wet. Aarav shook his head, water dripping from his hair, and laughed.

Akriti couldn’t help smiling. “You look like a wet puppy.”

“Wow, thank you,” he said playfully. “That’s a nice compliment.”

She laughed, covering her mouth. “Sorry!”

He looked at her — the way she laughed freely for the first time — and said, “You should smile more often. It suits you.”

Her laughter faded into a shy smile. “You say things easily.”

“I only say what’s true,” he replied.

For a while, they said nothing. They just stood there, watching people run through the rain, listening to the sound of thunder. It was peaceful — like the whole world had slowed down for them.

Then Aarav spoke again. “Do you ever wish time would stop?”

“Sometimes,” Akriti said. “Especially during moments like this.”

“Same,” he said softly.

Their bus arrived, splashing water on the road. Akriti turned to him and said, “Thank you for walking with me.”

He smiled. “Always.”

She stepped onto the bus and looked back through the window. Aarav was still standing there, waving slightly, his umbrella tilted against the wind. She waved back before the bus moved away.

---

That night, Akriti couldn’t stop smiling. She replayed every small moment — the walk, the laughter, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her.

Her mother noticed and asked, “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing, Maa,” Akriti said quickly.

But inside, she knew — it wasn’t “nothing.” It was him.

She sat by the window again, watching the rain still falling. It felt like the same rhythm she had heard when she walked beside Aarav — gentle, alive, endless.

She wrote in her diary:

> “Today, I laughed without fear. Maybe love starts like rain — slowly, quietly, until it covers everything.”

---

The next day at college, Aarav waved at her near the canteen.

“Morning,” he said. “I saved a seat for you.”

They sat together for lunch — something they’d never done before. Their friendship started to feel stronger, more real. Other students noticed them but didn’t say anything.

When they talked, the world seemed far away.

Sometimes they shared food, sometimes silence, but it all felt natural — like it was meant to be.

---

One afternoon, when she was leaving for class, Aarav handed her a folded note.

“Don’t read it now,” he said. “Read it when you get home.”

She nodded, curious.

Later that night, after everyone had slept, Akriti opened the note.

Inside were just a few simple words:

> “You make the world feel lighter. Thank you for being my friend.”

Akriti smiled through her tears. She pressed the note to her chest and whispered,

> “You make mine brighter too, Aarav.”

she realized — this friendship had already turned into something deeper. Something her heart could no longer hide.