I came to college in 2022, just after my twelfth boards ended.
A new campus, new faces, new beginnings — and I had just started my B.Sc.
At that time, I already had a boyfriend, someone who would later become my ex.
College life slowly settled in.
Classes, studies, new friendships, and long hours spent laughing with people who were once strangers.
Semesters passed quietly, almost unnoticed.
By the time I entered my second semester, someone new walked into my life.
He wasn't a friend at first.
Not even someone I noticed clearly.
But whenever my mood was slightly off in class, he would come up to me and ask softly,
"Are you okay? What happened?"
It was simple concern.
Nothing dramatic.
Just care — from someone who was still almost a stranger.
Slowly, without realizing it, our conversations increased.
Friendship grew in small moments.
Around the same time, my relationship began to fall apart.
My boyfriend started showing interest in another girl.
That truth hurt more than I expected.
Anger took over reason, and I broke up with him.
After the breakup, sadness became routine.
Heartbreak doesn't ask permission — it arrives and stays.
In the hostel, I cried for days.
So much that my eyes swelled, turned red, and burned constantly.
I went to classes with a heavy heart and tired eyes, pretending I was fine.
But he noticed.
Every day, he asked how I was.
Why I looked so sad.
Why I had been crying.
Sometimes, he brought chocolates.
Sometimes, just words.
Sometimes, laughter — gentle, unexpected laughter that made things feel lighter, even if only for a moment.
Without realizing when or how, I started to feel something for him too.
Affection crept in quietly.
We began to mix into each other's lives — slowly, naturally.
And somewhere between pain and comfort,
care started feeling like rescue.
That was the beginning.
Before promises.
Before complications.
Before love showed its fragile side.