The First Sight
I was not the kind of boy people remembered easily. I attended classes on time, sat where I was told, and spoke only when necessary.
Teachers saw me as disciplined. Classmates saw me as normal. Most days passed without anyone truly noticing me.
I preferred observing over participating, listening over speaking, as if I were always slightly out of step with the world around me. Nothing about me stood out—and perhaps that was exactly the problem. Because when I felt something deeply, there was no obvious place for those feelings to go. And this story is about those feelings. My feelings.
It was exactly a week after our second unit test when I was walking down the stairs with Ishaan, discussing our scores. A soft voice suddenly echoed behind me:
"Ishaan, wait for me..."
I turned to see a girl from my class calling after us. For some reason, her voice struck something deep in me, leaving a flutter of confusion.
I couldn't explain it. I stepped aside to give them space, but from a distance, I heard her ask, "How much did he get?"
I froze. Both of them were looking in my direction. I tried to keep a blank expression, hoping they weren't talking about me. Ishaan broke the silence:
"Eliam, how much did you score?"
For reasons I didn't understand, a sense of pride surged through me. I grinned and said,
"Well, higher than both of you,"
then walked away.
Although I regret it now, in that moment, my mind went blank. I could only hope she didn't think badly of me.
The Complement
Since that day, I noticed something changing. Somehow, I had caught her attention. I often felt her gaze on me—expressionless, unreadable—but whenever I looked back, she would quickly look away.
It was frustrating not being able to speak to her; her seat was on the girls' side.
As I brooded over it, Miss Marla, our class teacher, announced:
"Tomorrow is our school's half-yearly festival. The event will last two days: Day 1 is formal day, Day 2 is traditional day."
I wasn't particularly excited, but I had no reason to miss it.
The first day passed quietly. I wore a simple white shirt with black pants. Nothing unexpected happened—no spotlight, no awkward interactions. The festival itself was boring under strict discipline, though the organizers hyped it like a grand celebration. Students cheered half-heartedly, but everything went smoothly.
Then I heard a familiar voice:
"I don't know why, but he just proposed to me."
I sneaked a glance—it was her. Not surprising that a girl like her received proposals—but for some reason, I felt uneasy. I moved away to calm my thoughts.
The next day, traditional attire day, I wore a simple ash suit with a black turtleneck. Everyone had their unique outfits, and some students participated in a fashion program on stage. I stayed in the audience, lacking the confidence to join.
Then I saw her. She wore the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. Her presence captured my attention like a perfect photograph. My heart raced as I watched another boy lead her to the stage, offering a rose as part of a ramp walk. Oddly, I felt a pang of sadness, even though I didn't know why.
Later, she laughed with her friends, handing back the rose.
"It was just an act—not a real proposal. You guys don't have to tease me," she said.
Hearing that, my heart settled, and strangely, I felt a little happy.
As the festival ended, I headed to the bus station. Standing in line, a voice called my name.
"Eliam, wait..."
I turned. There she was, looking directly at me. Without thinking, I left my spot and walked toward her.
"This suit looks really good on you," she said.
The words stunned me. The world seemed to slow. Her voice lingered, warm and soft. I hesitated, my words almost stuck in my throat.
"You… you look really nice too," I said quietly, unsure if she could even hear me.
The Text
After that day, I found myself standing a little straighter than before. I didn't know if it was confidence or overconfidence, but I liked it. The staring didn't stop, but now I met her gaze and smiled. Life felt a little brighter.
As the day was ending, my phone buzzed. An unknown number had messaged me:
🗨️Eliam, this is Aarohi.
🗨️Can you send me today's notes?
A flash of recognition struck me. Aarohi… I remembered Ishaan mentioning her name in class. I whispered it under my breath:
"Aarohi…"
Though the conversation was brief, it was pleasant. Over the following weeks, we began chatting more often, and my friends started teasing me with her name made me feel surprisingly good.
Then, one night, she messaged:
🗨️Can we talk at 12 AM? It's an emergency.
My heart raced. Excited, nervous, and a little scared, I thought it might be a proposal. I asked my sister Elora for help. She read the chat and agreed—it could seem like one. We waited.
Finally, a message appeared:
🗨️Are you still here?
Before I could reply, Elora took the phone and began chatting on my behalf. She chatted for a while and then wrote:
🗨️I want to tell you something.
🗨️I think your smile is really cute.
I nearly jumped. Elora laughed, then handed the phone back. I panicked and replied hastily:
🗨️I also think you're cute."
She casually mentioned that two girls from our class had crushes on me. Elora and I froze. It was laughable, and I wondered if Aarohi was testing me or just sharing information.
Eventually, Elora told me to sleep, and I did, feeling awkward but exhilarated. This was the first time I had received a genuine compliment from someone outside my family.
Our chats continued, and exams came. During biology, I panicked over my incomplete notes. My legs went numb, and I collapsed to my knees. At that moment, a message arrived:
🗨️Did you complete the biology syllabus?
Just seeing her name calmed me. She sent her notes and even asked if I wanted to walk home with her afterward, since she lived nearby. Of course, I agreed. It was the perfect chance to talk in person.
I exited the college, there she was—waiting for me.