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The day began with a groan from every corner of the classroom.
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"Surprise test in the first period," someone whispered.
And within seconds, panic replaced play.
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Nobody had studied.
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Sambhavi sat upright, her spine stiff with anxiety. She wasn’t one to cheat—ever. She always believed in trying, no matter how hard the question. She began scribbling answers to whatever she knew, lips pressed together, forehead creased.
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She glanced sideways—and saw Rahul leaning subtly over his notebook, flipping through pages like a ninja.
Effortless.
Confident.
A little too cool.
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Before she could stop herself, the words slipped out:
“Rahul… can I copy from you?”
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He looked up, just a flick of the eyes.
“Yeah, sure. Just cover me if the teacher comes around.”
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Her heart skipped.
This was the first time he spoke to her so casually.
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t poetic.
But it felt like a line from her favorite song.
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She nodded furiously, cheeks turning that familiar shade of rose.
“I’ll warn you,” she promised.
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Throughout the test, Sambhavi kept her eyes on the teacher like a hawk, whispering alerts every time the footsteps got close. Rahul copied calmly. When it was all over, she turned to him with a smile.
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“Thanks,” she whispered.
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He grinned. “No worries.”
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And just like that, something tiny, something important… began.
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From then on, little moments started stringing themselves together like pearls on an invisible thread.
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Sometimes Rachel would swap seats, and Rahul’s friend would slide into the bench beside him. But Sambhavi stayed.
She made excuses—“I’ll get scolded if I move,” or “I can’t see the board well from there.”
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The truth?
She couldn’t bear the thought of giving up that spot beside him.
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One day, during an English class, their teacher stepped out to use the washroom.
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“Rachel, write down names of anyone who talks.”
The power had been granted.
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And of course, Rahul and Sambhavi couldn't help mocking her. Whispering jokes, laughing at Rachel’s exaggerated seriousness.
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Minutes later, she scribbled both their names on the board.
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Sambhavi gasped. “Rachel, are you mad?!”
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Rahul laughed harder. “She really wrote our names?”
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When the teacher returned, she barely glanced at the board.
“Next time, don’t talk in class,” she said simply.
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No scolding. Just a warning.
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Relieved, they all got back to work. Rachel, being her usual overachiever self, quickly finished her assignment and rushed to submit it.
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“Stop her!” Rahul whispered.
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In a blink, Sambhavi and Rahul grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her back like co-conspirators in a comedy scene.
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In that chaotic moment, her fingers brushed against Rahul’s hand.
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Soft. Warm. Feather-light.
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Her pulse raced.
A first touch.
A blink of connection.
She pulled her hand back, pretending nothing happened, but inside she was melting.
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They all burst into laughter and then finished their work together, handing it in as a trio.
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On another ordinary afternoon, Rahul was munching on a chocolate, casually leaning against the bench.
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Sambhavi leaned toward him and said, “Give me a piece.”
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“No,” he replied with a teasing smirk.
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“Please…”
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He turned his face away dramatically.
“Still no.”
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She nagged. She pouted. She nudged his arm like a kid fighting for the remote.
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Finally, he sighed and handed her a small piece. “Fine. Take it.”
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She popped it in her mouth like it was made of gold.
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That day, Rachel was absent. Sambhavi sat with Rahul and his friend, feeling like she had accidentally stumbled into a dream she didn’t want to wake from.
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These moments—tiny and ordinary for the world, but everything to her—kept happening.
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She listened closely when he spoke, memorizing the way he said her name.
She peeked at him when he wasn’t looking.
Sometimes, she pretended to sleep, resting her head on the desk, just so she could stare without fear.
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Her feelings weren’t loud.
They didn’t scr
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eam.
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They just... bloomed.
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Slowly. Softly. Silently.
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Like pages turning in a book no one else was reading.
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