Chapter 7: Our Secret

After returning, I desperately wanted to confess to her.

I paced my room, rehearsing what I would say. My little brother peeped in and laughed at me, but I ignored him.

But I always felt it was too sudden, too soon. I struggled all night and couldn’t sleep.

My pillow was soaked with sweat and doubt by morning. I almost lost my nerve.

Back at school, we went back to acting like strangers. No one noticed anything.

We avoided each other's eyes in class, but when our hands brushed at the water cooler, electricity crackled between us.

No one would have guessed that two people who never interacted had shared such a brief, precious memory.

Our secret was safe, tucked away behind polite smiles and unfinished homework.

Two weeks later, I couldn’t hold back any longer. After much deliberation, I sent her a text:

[It was you who made me believe

that love doesn’t need time to grow

it’s just two souls meeting again after a long separation

Before our first meeting

we had already met countless times]

I crafted the message over hours, editing and deleting, then finally pressed send, holding my breath.

I waited a long, long time.

Every notification made my heart race, but none were from her. I almost gave up hope.

Finally, my phone lit up.

Her message arrived at midnight, as if the universe waited until the world was asleep.

She replied:

[In the river of time

our short lives are but fleeting moments

But even so

my years may still be long and lovely because of you]

Her words were like a balm to my soul. I read them again and again, not trusting my eyes.

Just like that, we got together—quietly, as if it were destined.

We never made any grand announcements. Our love grew in stolen glances, shared earphones, and the silent language of fingers brushing in the corridor.

We went to movies on weekends, rowed boats at the city lake, visited book cafes to sip chai and read, went to Marine Drive to listen to the waves and wait for the moon, climbed the hill behind the colony to see the spring flowers, chased clouds from the rooftop, and played with fish by the quiet canal.

Each outing was a small rebellion against the world. We took selfies at Gateway of India, shared vada pavs by the sea, and scribbled our initials on park benches. Life felt limitless.

The happiness of first love filled our ordinary days.

Even the mundane—waiting for the bus, walking home in the rain, borrowing notes—became magical.