New Beginning

It was just another morning in my routine life… or at least, that’s what I thought. Being the younger daughter of my family, I had a special talent — waking up late and getting scolded every single day. My parents said I was careless; my sister called me lazy; I just called it “my crazy behavior.”

That day, however, was different. It was my first day in a new school. New classrooms, new teachers, new faces… everything felt strange, almost like stepping into another world.

As I rushed through the school gate, I heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, sriyaaa!” two loud voices echoed.

It was Sanju and Jessy, my best friends. They were my world — the kind of friends who fight with me, laugh at me, but never leave my side. Honestly, before meeting them, I never even knew what true friendship meant. They taught me that friendship wasn’t about perfection — it was about being together, even in the silliest and craziest moments.

On that first day, the three of us were like lost travelers in a strange city. We stuck to each other’s side — in class, during lunch, even while walking in the corridor. People probably thought we were glued together! Slowly, as days passed, we started talking to others, making small connections here and there.

That’s when I met Viansh.

Viansh was the kind of boy who spoke much, his words carried a certain warmth. We didn’t talk often, but when we did, we shared about our childhood memories, silly things we’d done, the little secrets that made us laugh until our stomachs hurt. There was something genuine about him — like he understood life differently from others.

One afternoon, as we sat in a classroom it was a leisure period he opened up about his past. He told me about Varshini.

Varshini was our senior, a 10th-standard student, and to Viansh, she had been special senior. Their story wasn’t one of maturity or deep understanding — it was more like two kids trying to make sense of feelings they couldn’t even name.

He told me how they used to sit together in the library, making fun of eachother instead of reading. How she would steal his pencils, and he would sulk just to make her laugh. One day, with the innocent boldness of a child, Varshini had blurted out, “I like you, Viansh. Will you be my boyfriend?”

And he, without much thought, had said yes. Not because he fully understood what it meant, but because in that childish moment, saying yes felt right.

“They were just kids,” he said with a soft smile, “we didn’t think too much. We just liked being around each other.”

As he spoke, I could see the glow in his eyes, the happiness in his smile. Every memory he described — the walks after class, the secret nicknames, the silly fights — painted a picture of a love that was innocent, clumsy, and pure in its own way. And for the first time, I realized how much I admired people who cherished even the smallest bonds.

Curious, I leaned closer and said, “Viansh… will you introduce me to Varshini? I want to meet her, not just as your senior, but as the girl who made you so happy.”

But the moment I said it, I noticed something change. His smile faded. The sparkle in his eyes dimmed. He fell silent for a while, and finally whispered, “We… we aren’t together anymore.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I didn’t know what to say. A part of me wanted to ask what went wrong. Another part felt the weight of destiny pressing against us all — reminding me that love stories aren’t always written in golden ink.

That day, under that tree, I learned something: every bright smile hides a story… and sometimes, those stories are painted with heartbreak.

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