WORDS (2900+)
flashback
POV Siara (14):
Waking up early to my mom's angry voice isn't pleasant.
My day started with the annoying combo of my alarm screeching at 5:45 AM and my mom yelling my name from the kitchen like she was summoning me to war.
I had already turned off the alarm twice-I slept like a literal khoonkarn (you know, the mythical sleepy monster that doesn't move until it's too late).
But today wasn't just any day.
It was my first day of 9th grade.
New books. New teachers. Same old uniform. Still itchy. Still uncomfortable. Still me.
After fifteen long, peaceful days of holiday, slipping back into that stiff blue skirt and polished shoes made everything feel... real again. My hair was tied into two plates-against my will-and secured with the mandatory blue ribbon (ew, but okay, fine... first-day exceptions exist).
Within 15 minutes, I was ready. Excited. Nervous. A little dramatic. And totally ready to meet my girls-my gang.
Let's clarify everything: my class will never change if we stay near the headmaster's office. Back in 8th grade, we were in that location, and nothing changed.
After meeting with my friends,We gossiped, laughed, judged a few teachers (like civilized students, of course), and then we met our new class teacher-Mrs. Chandrika.
We learned that there would be some changes in our class, Strict? Maybe. But not with me.
Hmm... mysterious.
We received our final timetable for the session on Wednesday. We had PT class during the second lecture on Thursday and were excited to get new houses.
Cue: happy screaming.
.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.
Thursday
I woke up on time. No yelling, no rushing. For some reason, I felt... peaceful.
Like something good was about to happen.
And spoiler alert-it did.
I was staring out the window, completely spaced out, lost in my own little dreamland when I heard:
Kya hua, meri angry bird, aaj itni shant kyu hai?"
It was Tara, sliding into the seat beside mine with a dramatic flair only she could pull off. I blinked a few times before realizing she was actually there.
"Kuch nahi, tu kab aayi? Main tujhse dekha nahi." I mumbled
Tara gave me that look-half confusion, half knowing-and pouted, say
"Jab tu apne dream world mein thi Maine do baar bola ya, tab bhi nahi suna."
Guilt crept in. I gave her the cutest sorry face I could manage.
"Hehe, sorry!"
Roop and Sara soon joined us.
"Kuch hua hai kya? Itna shant weather kyun hai?........."Roop asked,clearly confused.
Sara put her on my shoulder by cutting Roop while making an innocent face say, "Aur achha bhi."
I chuckled and whispered calmly,
"Kuch nahi hua hai. The weather is good because... God is in a good mood today."
And then silence.
After that, our class teacher, Mrs. Chandrika, is greeted by everyone as we collectively sing, "Good morning, ma'am!" Following this, we follow a rule: after prayer, we say "Namaste," and then we take our seats.
(This rule is made up of our class teacher because we are Indians, and we follow tradition whether we are in Christ school)
She taught us the first short story from our Hindi book.
We were waiting, trying to pass the time quickly, and everyone was checking their watches every minute.
Chandrika's mam said with annoyed face "Are you all in such a hurry to leave? It's only been five minutes! Left Just have some patience; you can leave soon. Whatever, I don't want to receive any complaints from the sir."
After five minutes, the bell rang, and the sir told us to come to the ground in the first lecture. We went to the field and stood in line according to our previous house colors. The teacher arrived and instructed us to play volleyball and also gave us new house colors. At first, we started learning the basics from my friend Aaliya, who was good at planning and teaching volleyball.
After a few minutes, a group of senior students formed a line. Among them was Tara's Crush, accompanied by his friends.
We were trying to push the balls one by one. I was standing in the middle of the first count while all the seniors were standing at the back near the second count. One of my classmates missed the ball, and it rolled near one of the seniors. I went to grab it.
" A boy with messy black hair that shimmered in the sunlight. His sleeves were rolled up, shoes-non-uniform black ones-were dusted but cool. He had dimples. Actual dimples. And when he smiled, it was like someone had plugged a battery into my chest."
He passed me the ball.
Our eyes met.
And something in me flipped.
"I was watching him, and a small smile appeared on my face."
I stood there, dumbstruck.
Frozen. Staring.
Why does he have to smile like that? It's rude. Unfair. Dangerous. For My Heart
My brain mocked me "really huh just shut up and get back, your heart always do this"
Someone called my name, bringing me back to reality as I stood there, observing his back and shoulders. The shape appeared rectangular, with slender arms and legs. (Okay, now move on).
After a few minutes, the ball rolled near him again. I realized I was watching him closely, which is why I noticed it. I went to grab the ball, and once more, our eyes met. At that moment, I felt as if my soul had left my body.
Fifteen minutes later, we headed to our class.
In Classroom
In the middle of the third lecture. The bell rang for recess for the 11th and 12th standards. I was sitting on the first bench in the last row by the window. Our classroom was near the stairs, and then I noticed the same students who had been on the field with us earlier. I realized that Tara's crush passed the door.
and after a few seconds, he passed by door looking straight to me while moving to up stairs.
Our eyes locked.
Till he passed one last look.
What was happening?
It felt like someone was writing a story with us in it. And I didn't even know his name.
The shit I need to focus on class; otherwise, it will be horrible to hear the lecture. On to focus on class by Archana, ma'am. She teaches us biology, and I feel that she doesn't teach in a normal way; it's more like a bullet train.
My brain again mocked me "ohh you get that thought you need to focus wowww. Let me give you an award on this nn!!"
After our recess, my eyes refused to leave the door.
It was the beginning of our last lecture, and the senior classes were being dismissed for the day.
But I wasn't focused on the lecture.
Not even a little.
My gaze stayed locked on that doorway, as if my heart had made a silent deal with time.
"He'll pass by now... any second. Just once more."
With every passing moment, my heartbeat grew louder, faster-like a soft drumroll building up to something.
I waited.
Now... maybe now.
I held my breath.
Waiting. Watching. Hoping.
Because somehow, seeing him one last time before the day ended felt... necessary.
AFTER THE SCHOOL OVER (In Campus)
The school day was over, and my friends and I were lazily roaming around the campus, not quite ready to let go of the day. Eventually, our steps led us to the field.
And that’s when I saw him.
There he was—standing in a patch of golden sunlight, talking to his friends like he wasn’t the reason I was forgetting how to function. His messy hair danced in the breeze, and he had that same relaxed posture that made it look like time itself slowed down around him.
Why... why does he look like the ending scene of a movie?
Why is my heart pulling stunts like it’s auditioning for a romantic web series?
I couldn’t stop staring. I was completely zoned out. And in that moment, it felt like he was the only person in the entire world.
Brain: “Really? Again? Ma’am, you’ve got five minutes of freedom left and THIS is how you use it?”
But I didn’t listen. I was too busy building imaginary slow-motion montages in my head.
Then—
CHOMP!
“OW!”
Something bit my shoulder. Not painfully, but enough to yank me out of my daydream.
I spun around.
Tara, obviously. Mischief written all over her face.
“Hey! Where have you been, Miss Daydreamer? We’ve been calling you for five minutes! You should’ve already left—your uncle must be waiting by now!”
I blinked.
Brain: “Wow. FIVE. Minutes. You need a medal for the longest staring contest with a guy who doesn’t even know your name.”
I snapped out of it like I’d been pulled from another dimension. Panic started to creep in.
“Oh no…” I muttered, glancing at my bare wrist.
“What time is it?”
Sara, ever the timekeeper, glanced down at her watch.
“It’s 12:45, Siaru.”
My soul left my body.
"OH SHOOT!”
My van left at 12:43. Every. Single. Day.
I took off like I was running from the ghost of missed transportation. My bag bounced behind me, my shoes slapped against the ground, and my friends shouted a chorus of laughter and goodbyes.
Brain: “Nice. You missed your van over a boy you don’t even speak to. Iconic.”
“BYEEE!” they all yelled in unison, probably laughing harder than they should.
But even as I ran—breathless, embarrassed, and barely making it—I turned my head just slightly. Just one last glance behind me.
Was he still there?
Did he notice me running like a lunatic?
Did our eyes meet again?
Brain: “Oh God, please tell me he didn’t see you run like that.”
She thought no one saw her.
As she dashed across the campus like her life depended on catching that van, her friends laughed behind her and waved. Her mind was a whirlwind of embarrassment, panic, and unspoken questions.
Did he see me? No… he must have already left, right?
She didn’t dare look back properly. Just a quick glance. Just in case.
What she didn’t know was that someone had seen her. Someone had been watching long before she started running.
He had noticed her that morning—during that brief exchange when he passed the volleyball during PT. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment. But for him, it wasn’t just that.
That same girl. The one who didn’t talk much.
The one whose laugh reached his ears even when he wasn't trying to hear it.
The one who stood there now, distracted by her own thoughts while her friends tried to pull her back to reality.
She had a softness about her. Something that made her seem distant—but in the most intriguing way.
And just now… as she stood in the field, staring at nothing and everything all at once—he watched her.
“The same girl,” he thought. “The same face I passed the ball to this morning.”
He had been standing nearby, pretending to be half-involved in his senior friends’ goodbye banter. But his eyes had strayed. Again.
To her.
Her voice. Her smile. Her eyes when they lit up talking to her friends. All of it had slowly begun to take up space in the quiet parts of his mind. And he wasn’t even mad about it.
Sure, she looked younger. Maybe one or two classes below. But something about her stood out—even in a crowd.
“Age is just a number.”
When she finally snapped out of her thoughts and realized she was late, he couldn’t help but smile.
She panicked, flailed, and ran—arms slightly uncoordinated, hair bouncing wildly, school bag nearly slipping off her shoulder.
It was chaotic.
It was cute.
And he watched her walk—no, run—away.
Not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
After two weeks.
That’s how long I’d been silently collecting fleeting moments. Watching him go upstairs every morning. Stealing glances as he came down for his PT lecture. Our eyes didn’t always meet—but when they did, even if for a second, my heart would skip like a scratched CD.
I had memorized the timing by now. Thursdays, that sweet 20-minute overlap during our PT lectures was the only window I had to see him. I didn’t even know his name. All I knew was that he was in 12th grade—an art student—and that apparently, my heart had signed a silent contract to keep hoping.
They say, “The fruit of patience is sweet.” I say, “Sure, but could the fruit arrive faster?”
Then came Wednesday—the day fate decided to play its little drumroll. We found out that instead of the usual boring SUPW period, we’d have PT again during our last lecture.
Double PT in a week? Our class lost its mind in excitement.
Of course, we also lived in Gujarat, where the sun is practically your worst enemy after 11:30 AM. Sunburn? Tanning? Headaches? Who cares? We were 15. Give us a reason to run, and we’d chase it.
Bags packed, energy high, we marched to the ground—dreaming of volleyball. But oh no, Krishna Ji clearly had a sense of humor that day.
We arrived only to be greeted with chaos. Apparently, all the volleyball courts were taken. Most of them by the senior boys who played as if the Olympics were happening in our school backyard.
"Congratulations, Siaru. No volleyball. No him. Just dodgeball and disappointment."
—My brain, mocking me as usual.
Still, dodgeball wasn’t so bad. After five minutes of arguing about where to play and yelling roll numbers like we were announcing lottery tickets, things finally settled.
The sun got hotter. Time moved slower.
And then I remembered: It’s the last lecture. He’ll be leaving now.
Time 12:10
I scanned the ground like a detective in a murder mystery. His friends were there—but he wasn’t. My heart dropped a little. Maybe he was absent. Maybe the universe had hit the "Not Today" button on my story.
I stood in the shed with my friends, staring blankly at the gate, hoping for a miracle. Tara, Sara, and Roop were with me—and yes, they all knew about my crush. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly subtle.
While I stood there pretending to exist, my brain was writing poetry about a boy I didn’t even know the name of.
“Maybe he didn’t come today. Maybe this is a test of patience. Maybe I should—”
BONK.
I jolted out of my dreamscape when someone bumped into me. It was Tara, her face lit up like she’d just seen SRK in the hallway.
She tried to say something, but all I heard were excited gasps and partial sentences. Her eyes sparkled as she turned me around. "Siaru, babe… look who’s here! The reason for your daydreams has ARRIVED!"
Behind me stood Sara and Roop, both struggling to hold back their smirks.
I turned around slowly, expecting nothing... but there he was.
He stood just a few feet away, in a white half-sleeve shirt and faded light-blue jeans. His messy hair somehow looked... perfect. A bag hung from one shoulder like it had been born to do just that.
And then... it happened.
His eyes met mine.
Not by accident. Not a glance. A full, deliberate, five-second connection.
Five seconds.
Long enough to ruin a girl's ability to breathe properly.
Short enough to pretend it meant nothing.
His friend said something and tugged him back into their group, but my gaze stayed locked on the spot he’d just stood in—like I could freeze time if I stared hard enough.
Tara pulled me back to Earth. “You still don’t know his name, right?”
I nodded, barely able to focus. She gave me a smirk so evil it deserved its own theme music.
“I’ll get you his name… but you gotta pay the price.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What price?”
“Your tiffin. For a whole week.”
“Done,” I said, without hesitation.
My brain: GIRL. HAVE YOU LOST YOUR LAST FUNCTIONING NEURON? FOR A BOY YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW?!
Me: Silence, peasant.
Tara and Roop bolted to talk to one of their friends from another 9th-grade section—someone who had just been laughing with him five minutes ago.
Sara and I stood like statues, watching every gesture, every expression, like we were in a spy thriller.
After five looooong minutes, Tara and Roop turned back, smiling like they held the secret to the universe.
They came running like overexcited puppies and shouted, “YOOOO! We finally know the name of your daydream reason!”
Sara and I looked at each other in pure embarrassment, hugging tightly like we could shield ourselves from the chaos these two always brought.
Our monkeys. But our monkeys, nonetheless.
Finally, they reached us—gasping for breath, red in the face, bouncing with excitement.
I couldn’t wait any longer.
“What’s his name?” I asked, my heart beating like a marching band.
Tara grinned like a villain in a teen drama. She leaned closer, dragged out her words painfully slow, and said…
“His name is…”
To be continued…
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