After Nikita's last message, the night turned still. The kind of stillness that doesn't comfort but makes you aware of your own heartbeat. She said she would talk later. But she didn't. And for the first time in days, I didn't message her either.
The silence between us was thin, almost delicate, like it could tear if either of us touched it. Maybe that was why neither of us moved.
Morning came slow. My eyes opened with a dull heaviness, the kind that sinks deep in the bones. I waited for a message that wasn't there. I checked again. Still nothing. I tossed the phone aside and told myself it was better this way.
But even lies sound weak inside your own mind.
I got up, washed my face, and walked into the hall. That's when I saw my uncle sitting with my parents. He never visited without purpose, and the serious look on his face told me he already carried a decision inside him.
"Sit," he said, waving me closer.
I sat down, unsure of what storm was waiting.
"We were talking about your future," he began, leaning forward. "A government job. A stable path. A strong life. After your first year exams, we think you should go to a new city for preparation."
The words hit me like a slow wave.
A new city.
New streets.
New life.
New people.
For a moment, I couldn't imagine myself in any of it. Then slowly the picture formed. The unknown. The fresh start. The freedom that scared me and excited me at the same time.
My father nodded. "It's a good opportunity. You should say yes."
I didn't know if I wanted to say yes. I didn't know if I wanted to leave this city, these roads I walked every day, this strange connection with a girl who couldn't decide whether to hold on or let go.
But some choices don't wait for your clarity. They demand action even when you don't understand what you feel.
I nodded. "Okay."
Their faces lit with approval. But my mind drifted somewhere else. To the silent phone in my pocket. To a girl who had no idea I might be leaving soon. To the thought that distance sometimes answers what people cannot say directly.
Maybe she wouldn't care.
Maybe she would.
Maybe distance would show which one was true.
But that was a question for later.
For now, exams were close. Only one day left for the next paper. I pushed away every thought and opened my books. The words swam for a while, refusing to enter my brain. Eventually, they settled into place, slowly forming lines I could hold onto.
Still, something felt different today.
A shift, like life had quietly turned onto a new path.
By evening, I knew I needed a change of space. My concentration was breaking. My thoughts stretched between the upcoming exam and the things unsaid with Nikita. I messaged no one, called no one. But I decided to go to Shivi's house. The last day before the next exam felt like a perfect time to study together.
I took a bus to our nearby town where our college stood. The road hummed beneath the tires, and the wind pressed against my face from the open window. I put on my earphones and played the same song Nikita told me about.
A Thousand Years.
The same song she mentioned casually but left stamped in my mind like a mark. I listened to it once. Then again. Then again. Until I almost knew the lyrics by heart. The song carried a strange softness, like longing wrapped in hope. It wasn't just a song anymore. It felt like a doorway into something I didn't understand fully.
Maybe that's why I kept it playing.
By the time I reached Shivi's house, the sky had turned a deep shade of blue. I climbed the steps and called him. He opened the door in seconds, rubbing his eyes as if he had been half asleep or lost in his own thoughts.
"Bro, come," he said, pulling me into the house.
We walked into his room. It looked like someone had mixed a library with a battlefield. Books everywhere. Notes scattered. Calculators under pillows. And on the table, a mountain of snacks waiting like silent soldiers.
His family ran a wholesale shop, so snacks were always around. I pushed aside a stack of books and sat on a chair.
"So what's up?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Same old. Studying since morning. My head is gone, bro."
"How many chapters done?"
He told me, and we discussed topics, shared doubts, exchanged notes. For a while it felt like a normal night. Two students trying to survive the whirlpool of exam season.
But slowly I noticed something. His eyes kept drifting to his phone. His fingers typed quickly, then paused, then typed again. It wasn't casual chatting. It was careful. Focused. Emotion behind the taps.
I watched for a minute before asking lightly, "Whom are you chatting with?"
He looked up, caught like a thief, and instantly shook his head. "No one."
"Come on," I said, leaning forward. "I'm not blind."
He hesitated. At first he didn't want to talk, but tonight I insisted. Maybe because my life felt confusing and I needed to understand someone else's story for balance. Maybe because I sensed that something deep was happening with him too.
After a long sigh, he finally spoke.
"This… actually started last year."
"Last year?"
"Yes. When I went to Haryana for preparation."
My eyebrows lifted. Last year, I didn't know him that well. Just a classmate I talked to occasionally. So whatever happened in that time was still a mystery.
"So what happened there?"
He smiled in a shy, almost guarded way. "There was a girl."
My heartbeat jumped even though it wasn't my story. Romance does that. It pulls you in even when you pretend not to care.
"What's her name?"
He looked away, as if debating whether he should say it. Then he whispered, "Ishika."
Something clicked. Ishika. Our classmate. A topper. Always quiet, focused, not really part of any big group. I blinked.
"Wait. Ishika? That Ishika?"
He laughed. "Yes."
I leaned back. "Bro, how did I not know this?"
He shrugged. "You were busy living your own life. And honestly, I didn't want people talking."
He continued.
"It started small. One day I messaged her on the group meeting. Just a simple doubt. She replied politely. Then slowly we chatted more. Nothing romantic at first. Just normal talks. Study, life, daily stuff."
I nodded, listening.
"But when I went to Haryana," he said softly, "something changed."
His voice lowered, as if he was telling me something sacred.
"I learned so many things there, bro. Not just study. Life. Emotions. What distance can do. What attachment feels like. And then one day… I realized I liked her."
I watched him speak. His eyes softened, like he was reliving that memory.
"So you proposed?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yes. But I was scared. My heartbeat was running like a train. I didn't know what she would say. I asked her anyway."
I held my breath with him.
"Then?"
"For some time she didn't reply. Then suddenly she said yes."
He laughed at the memory, shook his head, and leaned back in his chair with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.
"That moment… I hung up the phone, sat down, and just stared at the wall. Thinking about her. About everything. About how fast life can change."
His voice carried something warm. Something real. Something rare.
I asked, "So you call each other now?"
"Not much. Mostly chatting," he said. "Sometimes calls. But not daily."
Our conversation drifted after that, but the room felt different now. Softer. Like he had opened a door into his private world.
The strange part was that everything he said took my mind back to Nikita. His story made me wonder what stage I was in. The beginning? The confusion? The crossroads before something real? Or the point where everything breaks without warning?
Eventually he asked the question I was waiting for.
"So what happened with Nikita these last three to four days?"
I exhaled slowly. As if my chest had been holding this story hostage.
I told him everything.
How she messaged.
How she asked about songs.
How she gave another ID.
How she said we were friends.
How she said boys and girls cannot be friends.
How she feared her parents.
How she messaged again when I didn't reply.
How she said sorry and wondered if I was ignoring her.
Shivis listened without interrupting even once.
When I finished, he shook his head slightly.
"Bro… this is not simple."
"I know," I whispered.
"She is confused. But she is also thinking about you. Why else would she message you so many times?"
I didn't answer. Because deep down, I didn't know what I wanted from her. Or what she wanted from me. Or what this entire thing meant.
We kept talking until our voices grew softer, our backs slumped, and our eyes blurred from reading too much. The night stretched long and heavy around us. The books lay open. The snacks stood untouched. The air smelled of pens, pages, and unsaid truths.
Somewhere in the middle of solving one last chapter, our words faded out and we drifted into sleep without realizing it.
Two friends.
Two stories.
Two different kinds of confusion.
And the night still had more to say.
But that part…
that part waited in the silence that followed.
Because something was about to happen.
Something neither of us could see coming.
Questions For Readers??
1. Do you think Nikita's silence means she is stepping back, or is she waiting for him to make a move?
2. Should Niks tell Nikita about moving to a new city, or wait to see how she reacts first?
3. Is distance going to help him forget her, or bring them even closer?
4. Do you think Nikita's fear of her parents is real, or is there something else she's hiding?
5. If you were in Niks place, would you message her again or leave things as they are?