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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.

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