Hello guys… you probably came here after reading the description, right? This story is going to be a little different, because this isn't just any story—it's my story, and I'm the one telling it. So just relax and enjoy.
I was only fourteen years old when I experienced something people call love at first sight. At that time, I didn't really understand what love meant. It felt like something straight out of movies—unreal and a little dramatic. When I first noticed that feeling, I ignored it. My sister and I both thought it was just attraction, something temporary that would disappear in a few days. But as the days passed, instead of fading away, that feeling slowly started growing stronger, and without realizing it, it became something much deeper.
Before I tell you about that person, let me tell you a little about my life.
Every morning in my house started with chaos. My mom would shout from the kitchen, calling both me and my sister to wake up. Her voice was loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood, but not us. We had mastered the art of ignoring her. No matter how much she yelled, we would simply turn to the other side, pull the blanket over our heads, and continue sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened. Sometimes we would even hug each other and fall back asleep like two innocent kids who had no worries in the world.
But my mom was not someone who gave up easily. When shouting didn't work, she had her own special method. That day, like many others, she walked into the room with a packet of water in her hand. Before we could even react, she threw it straight at us. The cold water hit us instantly, and we both jumped out of bed screaming. Within seconds, everything was wet—our clothes, the bedsheet, even our mood. Meanwhile, my mom simply walked away as if she had just completed her mission successfully.
We stood there staring at each other in silence before finally accepting our fate. After that, the real struggle began. We had to dry the bedsheet, get ready for school, and somehow manage everything on time. By the time we were done with all that, it was already around 7:30 in the morning.
Getting ready was another challenge, especially because I had a sister. We had to share everything—the bathroom, the mirror, even time. Only sisters truly understand how chaotic that can be. There were constant arguments, pushing each other, shouting to hurry up, and still somehow managing to get ready at the same time. Despite all the chaos, we always managed to be ready by around eight.
Every day, my sister would drop me at school before leaving for her work. That became our routine, and without realizing it, three months passed in the same way.
Then came August 12th, a day that seemed completely normal at first. We had heard that a new student would be joining our class in the middle of the term. It sounded strange to me. I remember thinking, who even changes school in the middle of the year? I didn't think much of it at that time.
That morning, everything was just like any other day. My sister and I were walking to school, talking about random things and laughing. As usual, we stopped to eat ice cream on the way. We even started guessing about the new student—whether it would be a boy or a girl, and what kind of person they might be. We joked that the new student would probably be boring.
We kept talking and laughing so much that we didn't even realize when we reached the school gate. After saying goodbye to my sister, I walked inside, completely unaware that this day was going to change everything.
I was in seventh grade, and I had a habit that I absolutely loved—sleeping in class before morning prayer. Since I always reached school early, I used that extra time to take a short nap. I trusted my best friend to wake me up before prayer, and she always did, so I never worried about it.
That day, I did the same thing. I sat on my bench, rested my head, and fell asleep without thinking twice. I didn't know that while I was sleeping, someone had entered the classroom. There were plenty of empty seats, but instead of sitting anywhere else, that person chose to sit right next to me.
I had no idea.
I was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of everything happening around me. And to make things worse, I don't even look good while sleeping. My hair gets messy, my face looks weird, and that day I was facing his side, which meant he could see my face clearly.
After a while, my teacher entered the classroom and immediately noticed me sleeping. She was not happy at all. She shouted loudly, asking if the classroom was a place for sleeping, but I didn't wake up. She walked closer and hit my back lightly with a stick. That's when I suddenly woke up.
The first thing I saw was her angry face, and for a moment, I didn't even understand what was happening. It was the first time a teacher had scolded me like that. I wasn't a topper, but I wasn't a bad student either. Still, getting scolded like that felt embarrassing.
Still confused and half asleep, I turned to look at my best friend, expecting her to be sitting beside me. But instead, I saw someone else—a boy. Without even thinking, I said loudly, "Hey, champu, move! That's my friend's seat."
The entire class went silent. My teacher looked at me, even angrier than before, and immediately told me to get out of the class. Just like that, in the very first period itself, I was sent outside.
Standing outside the classroom, I was extremely annoyed. But instead of blaming myself, I started blaming my friend. When I saw her later, I didn't stop complaining. I told her she didn't wake me up, that she let someone else take her seat, and because of her I got scolded. I even said the teacher might call my mom now.
Deep inside, I knew it was my fault. I was the one who slept. But it was easier to blame someone else than to accept it.
What I didn't realize at that moment was that the boy sitting next to me, the one I had just called "champu" in front of everyone, was going to become someone very important in my life. That small, embarrassing moment was actually the beginning of something I had never expected.
And that's how my story began.