I don't know exactly when it started — maybe there wasn't a clear moment. Maybe it was in the way he never tried to be anything else but himself.
No masks. No games. No pretending.
He just was.
And slowly, I started noticing the way my heart reacted to that.
There's a kind of honesty in him that you don't see often in people. He's raw — not in the messy way, but in the way that makes you stop and breathe a little slower around him. He doesn't dress his emotions in polite lies. If he's angry, it shows. If he's happy, it lights up in his face. If he wants silence, you can almost feel it hang in the air beside him — he doesn't say it, but it's there.
And maybe I missed some of those signs. Maybe I'm a little slow when it comes to understanding people like him.
But still… I watched. I listened. I remembered.
Not everything he did made sense, but nothing ever felt fake.
And his smile… God, that smile.
It wasn't loud or flashy, but it had this quiet magic in it. The kind that didn't just stay on his lips — it reached his eyes, softened his whole face, and made everything around him feel lighter. Every time he smiled, my heart did this weird thing — like it skipped, flipped, and then forgot how to beat normally. It made me forget whatever I was saying, whatever I was doing. Just one smile from him, and I'd be gone — fully, helplessly gone. And the worst part? He had no idea what that smile did to me.
It was one of those random evenings where we all sat together, just talking. I was still new to the group, still figuring out the dynamics between everyone — especially Kartik. And without thinking much, I asked him straight:
"Kartik, what do you even see in Mahira?"
He didn't say anything right then. Just looked at me, and the vibe shifted. I didn't get it at first.
Later that night, Ayaan texted me.
"Do you know Kartik got really offended by what you said?"
"What did I say?" I replied, confused.
"That Mahira question. He messaged me after you left, saying 'How can she even ask that? That's personal.'"
I felt a little bad. But honestly, I didn't know he felt that deeply.
The next morning, I brought it up gently.
"Did I hurt you by that question yesterday?"
He looked down, then finally said:
"It's not about the question. It's just… people think they know things, but they don't."
He paused. And then started talking, like really talking.
"Honestly, I didn't like Mahira at first. She was too childish — always talking in this baby voice. You can ask Pihu too. I used to say, 'How can someone be so dramatic and irritating?'"
I was quiet. Just listening.
"But then we started talking… like, actually talking. All night sometimes. And slowly, I saw this side of her that was so vulnerable, so soft… and I don't even know when, but I fell for her."
I looked at him and asked quietly:
"Then why are you not with her?"
He smiled, but it was that tired smile — like the kind you give when you've already had the answer for too long.
"Because she has a boyfriend. A toxic one. She says she'll leave him, says she loves me too. But it's been a year, and she's still 'handling things'."
"That's not love," I said. "That's comfort. She knows you'll stay. So why would she ever choose you? She's already getting the version of you who loves without demands. She doesn't need to choose."
Kartik just stared at me.
Ayaan, who was sitting beside, suddenly joined in.
"Okay, now that's a real talk. I honestly thought Noor you were just crazy and loud. But you're smart too, huh?"
I laughed, but inside I felt proud — like, okay, I actually made sense.
That night, I found out later, Kartik messaged Ayaan again.
"I didn't expect her to say all that. But maybe she's right."
Ayaan replied, "I told you so."
I don't know when it started exactly.
Maybe it was the way he always looked back when we were walking downstairs. Everyone else used to rush ahead — laughing, joking — but he'd always slow down, glance behind, and wait for me.
"Are you coming?" he'd ask, smiling.
And I'd just nod, pretending I wasn't out of breath, pretending my heart wasn't beating faster than it should.
He never made it obvious. Never dramatic. But it felt like… he saw me. And that was new.
Even during our group talks, when I'd say something and someone would cut me off — which happened a lot in my life — he'd always turn to me after a few seconds and say,
"You were saying something, Noor?"
That one line — that tiny moment — it would stick with me the whole day. Because nobody ever did that. Nobody ever made me feel like my words were worth going back for.
He held the door too. Every day.
Once, I joked,
"Do you do this for everyone or just me?"
He laughed, "Everyone. But you're the one who always notices."
We both smiled. But inside, my chest felt warm. And weird. And floaty.
And that's when I knew.
I had butterflies. Real, actual butterflies. The kind they show in cheesy movies. And every little thing he did — every look, every laugh, every time he remembered small things about me — made those butterflies go wild.
It wasn't just a crush. It was something softer. Slower.
Like a fall.
Not a hard, painful fall. But the kind where you don't even realise it's happening until you're halfway down. And then you're just lying there, looking up at the sky, thinking,
"Oh. So this is what it feels like."
I never planned this. I didn't want to feel this way.
But I did.
Because he made me feel seen.
He made me feel like I mattered.
And maybe, just maybe… that's where I started falling.