"A Test of Friendship"

"A Test of Friendship"

The days rolled on, and life at school returned to its usual rhythm. Mahabuba and I had found a comfortable balance, and though my feelings for her still lingered in the background, they no longer consumed me. I focused on our friendship, treasuring every moment we spent together.

One afternoon, during a free period, Mahabuba and I were sitting under the banyan tree in the schoolyard. She was excitedly telling me about a new boy in our class, Arif, who had caught her attention.

"He’s so funny," she said, her eyes lighting up. "And did you notice how he always gets the best scores in math? He’s kind of amazing."

I forced a smile, nodding along. Inside, her words tugged at a part of me I thought I had let go. But I reminded myself that this was part of our new normal—she could share everything with me, and I would support her, no matter how much it hurt.

As the days passed, Mahabuba and Arif began spending more time together. She would tell me about their conversations and how he made her laugh. I listened, offering advice when she asked, even though it felt like tiny cracks forming in my heart.

One day, Mahabuba turned to me with a hesitant look. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

"Do you think I should tell Arif that I like him?"

The question hit me like a punch in the gut. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. But then I saw the nervous hope in her eyes, and I knew my answer.

"Yes," I said, forcing a smile. "You should tell him. He’d be lucky to have you."

Her face broke into a wide grin, and she hugged me tightly. "You’re the best, you know that? I don’t know what I’d do without you."

That evening, as I walked home alone, the reality of my feelings hit me harder than ever. But along with the pain came a strange sense of peace. I realized that loving someone sometimes meant putting their happiness above your own. And if Mahabuba was happy, I could be too—even if it wasn’t with me.

The next day, Mahabuba pulled me aside during lunch, her face flushed with excitement. "I told him!" she whispered.

"And?" I asked, bracing myself.

"He said he likes me too!" she said, her smile brighter than I’d ever seen it.

I hugged her, ignoring the ache in my chest. "I’m so happy for you," I said, and I meant it.

As I sat in class later that day, watching Mahabuba and Arif share a laugh across the room, I felt a mix of emotions—pain, joy, and something that felt a lot like acceptance. I still loved her, but I also loved the friendship we had built. And that friendship was something I would never let go of, no matter what.

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