2

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.”

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