The moment Shivis dropped me near my house and rode away, the street fell quiet again. The engine sound faded, but my thoughts didn't. They only grew louder as I stepped inside.
Inside the small courtyard, my mother was arranging utensils for dinner. The soft smell of spices drifted through the air.
"How was the paper today?" she asked without looking up.
"Good, Mama… better than the last one," I replied.
She nodded with that familiar trusting smile — the one that always made me want to live up to her expectations.
"Then go freshen up and eat. Food is ready."
I went straight to the washroom, and as cold water splashed over my face, my thoughts instantly returned to the same place they had been stuck for days.
Nikita.
The way she'd looked at me when I asked for her name. The calm way she spoke. The way she refused the Instagram ID like she was protecting a quiet secret she didn't want uncovered.
Why did she speak so normally to me? Was she always like this with everyone? Or was there something simple yet special happening that my nervous mind couldn't understand?
I didn't have answers — only questions.
After bathing, I joined my family for dinner. My brother and sister were arguing over a TV remote while my mother laughed softly at them. I sat there smiling, pretending to join the moment, yet some corner of my mind kept wandering.
Later, as darkness crept over the village and the crickets began their nightly chorus, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
"How can I find her ID?" I whispered to myself.
I replayed her words again and again:
"You cannot find my ID."
Was that confidence… or challenge?
I turned from side to side thinking about how she had spoken to me, how naturally she responded, how calm her expressions were. Did she ever think about me when she lay down at night? Or was I the only fool drifting into thoughts alone?
Exhaustion eventually won. My eyelids became heavy.
I didn't even remember falling asleep.
---
Morning came aggressively — with my younger sister shouting:
"Bhaya! It's 6 o'clock! When will you wake up?"
I groaned, half-opening my eyes and sitting up.
After morning prayer and brushing in the washroom, even while foam filled my mouth, she returned to my thoughts like an uninvited guest.
I shook my head.
"Stop," I told myself. "Not now."
But that voice inside just laughed.
After bathing and breakfast, Mother reminded me about some official document corrections. So around noon, I caught the bus to town.
The town market bustled like always — honking scooters, roadside tea stalls, stationery shops stacked with forms and photocopies.
By the time everything was completed, the clock had already reached five in the evening.
I rushed to the bus stand.
And froze.
No bus.
Not until tomorrow morning.
Great.
So I headed straight to my uncle's house for the night — but before even unpacking, Shivis' call came.
"Bro! Come here. We'll study tonight."
My plans changed yet again.
From uncle's place, I headed toward Shivis' house instead.
---
At Shivis' place, I greeted his aunty.
"Where's Shivis?"
"In his room — third floor."
The staircase felt longer than usual. When I reached his room, Shivis sat cross-legged with notebooks scattered around… and his phone glowing in his hand.
He looked up quickly and locked the screen.
Something was different today.
We talked about our syllabus — what chapters were done, which remained. But between discussions, I noticed his attention drifting back to that phone.
I felt curious… but never pushed.
Everyone deserves some secrets.
Then — as if on habit — he suddenly asked:
"So bro… any update about Nikita?"
I only shook my head.
"No information, same story."
Silence hung between us. Then both of us exchanged looks, as if coming to some unspoken agreement.
This was it.
Tonight belonged to the mission.
Instead of books, phones replaced notebooks. We entered detective mode — searching her old schools, looking for merit lists online, award announcements, anything.
"She must be smart… maybe she won something?" I suggested.
We searched and searched.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
Every lead turned empty.
Around 2 a.m., I leaned back in defeat, remembering her confident words again:
You cannot find my ID.
Her voice echoed inside my mind like a prophecy already fulfilled.
We collapsed on our mattresses, tired and silent.
Despite sleeping at 2, my body insisted on waking at 6 a.m.
Old habits never die.
I bid Shivis goodbye and walked to catch the early bus back to my village.
That ride felt longer than usual — my head leaned against the glass window while fields rolled past like blurred panels of a film I couldn't pause.
Back home, I resumed daily chores. But my mind kept circling back to one name — Jayson.
Maybe he knows something more.
I waited until afternoon and called him.
The phone rang.
"Hello bro!" came his cheerful voice.
We exchanged casual talk — job exams, studies — and then, slowly, I navigated toward the real question.
"Bro… you know her Instagram ID or any social media?"
There was a pause.
"No man… I started Insta only recently. After she left town, we lost contact."
Then he added:
"But there's someone who might know more… my old classmate — Prayag."
A spark reignited.
I immediately dialed Prayag.
No answer.
Disappointment again.
Maybe he was busy.
That night I focused on studying the remaining chapters. Three days had already slipped away — my preparation mattered too.
Late at night, Prayag finally returned my call — but I was sitting with my family.
"We'll talk tomorrow," I told him reluctantly, and disconnected.
Yet regret filled me immediately after.
What if tomorrow never comes?
Sleep finally claimed me again — heavy, restless sleep, full of half-dreams where Nikita stood behind a fog I could never reach.
Next morning followed routine — prayer, reading, breakfast.
I then went to the second dairy outlet my father owned in the nearby village to assist with operations. After returning home in the afternoon and eating lunch, I lay down briefly.
Two hours later, I made the call again.
This time —
"Hey Niks!" Prayag answered immediately.
After small talk about families and studies, I came straight to the point:
"Do you know Nikita?"
"Yes… why are you asking?"
"She sits beside me during exams."
He paused — and his tone changed slightly.
Then the story came.
He told me gently how, years ago when she was just fourteen, something tragic happened in her family while she was still in school. Teachers kept it vague — only saying that some relatives came to take her and her younger brother away.
She never returned to that school.
Later he and another friend, Djay, visited her… and discovered she now lived with her grandparents.
My chest tightened.
So much pain… hidden behind that calm smile.
Prayag added, "Djay used to exchange notes with her… they spoke sometimes."
I swallowed hard.
Did Djay like her?
Probably.
I asked but kept my voice neutral.
He confirmed softly, "Yes, Djay admired her."
In my mind, something strange surfaced — a hint of fear… a signal telling me I was already too late.
Still, I asked the question I already knew the answer to:
"Do you have her Instagram?"
"No — nothing after she left. But I'll try to search."
After the call ended, I stared into nothing.
For the first time in my life, I created an Instagram account — not to socialize… not to post photos…
But to search for one person.
Nikita Rajawat.
I looked up her name in endless combinations.
Checked mutual friends.
Scrolled classmates' lists.
Clicked profiles endlessly.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
Her words echoed again:
You cannot find my ID.
She was right.
By evening, Shivis called.
Any success?
"No."
Same answer from both sides.
That night I fell asleep feeling empty — like chasing a horizon that kept stepping farther away.
Morning came, and with it, a message flashed on my phone.
From Prayag:
"Bro… if you can, try asking the class girls. Maybe they know her handle."
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Talk to other girls?
Who even talks to me?
I barely managed to talk to Nikita herself — and now I was expected to approach strangers?
My heart started racing just by imagining the situation.
How would I even begin?
"Hey… do you know her Insta ID?"
I pictured their confused looks. Their whispers.
The awkwardness burned before it even happened.
I locked my phone.
Sinking back onto my bed, I whispered:
"How can a boy who can face an exam hall without fear… be so terrified of a simple conversation?"
---
Maybe the real question wasn't whether I could find her Instagram ID…
Maybe the real question was this:
Am I brave enough to step out of silence for the first time in my life —
or will I let Nikita become the story of a girl I thought about…
but never truly reached?
And as this thought pressed into my chest…
A new message popped on my phone — unknown number — with just one line:
"Are you searching too hard for something you should find naturally?"
My heart skipped.
Who sent this?
Was it coincidence…
or was the universe finally answering me?
Was that text from Prayag… or from someone else?
Had Nikita somehow discovered my search?
Was this finally the thread connecting me to her world — or just another mystery deepening the distance?
---------
Have you ever wanted to find someone so badly — yet feared the moment you finally do?....