In the Quiet Hours

"I'm going to put my head down for a while," I said aloud, hoping she'd hear me. "I haven't had a good night's sleep, and I'm too drowsy for the next class. Wake me up when the teacher arrives, okay?" I asked her.

"Fine," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I rested my head on my hands and closed my eyes, trying to find some peace. A few minutes later, when she thought I was asleep, I felt her fingers fiddling with my hair, tracing patterns along my back. A sudden, stern yet pleasant voice broke the moment.

"Don't you have anything better to do? And why are you sitting next to him?"

"Why should you have all the fun?" she said and was about to continue but Pragya's firm gaze threw her off balance.

Followed by Pragya grabbing her friend's hand, pulling her away. "Stop it Pragya, it hurts!" she protested, but Pragya didn't let go.

After a brief scuffle, Pragya took the seat next to me, sliding her chair closer. She soon picked up where the other girl left off, running her fingers through my hair and lightly touching my back. She probably thought I was still asleep.

The classroom was silent for a while until some boys outside started shouting my name. Pragya responded before I could, yelling back, "He's too tired for your nonsense. Let him be—he hasn't had a good night's sleep!"

Time passes quickly, leaving us with moments we wish we had cherished more. Isn't that right, Pragya?

We were outside her house, talking and reminiscing about our school days. We laughed about the years we spent together, making the most of every moment. But unlike her, I felt a deep sadness, unsatisfied with the time we had left. I wanted one more movie date, another chess match, a few more rounds of coffee, and another horror film to pretend we weren't scared of it. I'd miss the late-night chats and afternoon voice calls, even though we lived just a few blocks apart. Exams always felt like an eternity, separating us. I'd even miss her complaining about Chemistry.

"What are you thinking about? Aren't you going to miss me?" she asked, her voice heavy with emotion. She knew how I felt—she felt the same way.

Her parents were saying their final goodbyes to my family. In a few moments, she would be on her way to Bangalore. If it's not meant to be, is it okay to plead?

She turned away, her head sinking. I knew she was holding back tears, just like I was. But I guess being a guy makes it easier to keep your emotions in check. Amidst the last of our confessions, I remembered the parting gift I had for her—a custom-made leather journal. The cover was a deep shade of forest green, her favorite color, with an intricate design of interwoven vines and flowers embossed into the leather. It symbolized the growth and beauty of our friendship.

On the first page I had written a note: "For all the dreams, thoughts, and adventures yet to come. May these pages hold your stories as dearly as I hold our memories." I was about to hand it to her, hoping it would be a meaningful companion as she embarked on her new journey. She deserved something special, a gift that would remind her of the bond we shared and the time we spent together. Still, I wanted to try.

As I reached into my bag pack, she spoke up. "I have a gift for you," she said, hesitating. "It's not much, but here." She reached into her bag and pulled out a handmade silk handkerchief. Its edges delicately trimmed with lace. In the centre, a crescent moon was beautifully embroidered in silver thread, surrounded by tiny golden stars scattered across a deep blue background.

"It's a cosmic motif," she explained softly. "The moon to guide you, the stars to remind you of all the memories we've shared."

In one corner, I noticed a subtle, personal touch—our initials, entwined within a tiny constellation. The intricate stitching and thoughtful design showed just how much effort she had put into creating something special for me.

I looked at her fingers, still bearing a few bandages, and felt a swell of emotion. I gently took her hand. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"It was worth it, dude," she said with a smile, and I knew she meant every word.

We didn't want to say goodbye. But when her parents came by and asked if she was ready, she had no choice. They bid me farewell, and Pragya followed them to their car. Midway, they stopped at a neighbor's house. "They must have forgotten about Mr. Sharma," my father remarked, and we headed home.

My heart felt heavy, my steps sluggish. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Pragya.

"My parents have a few more goodbyes to say. Come to the car," she said.

I rushed over, standing by her door. She opened it and insisted I sit with her for a few more minutes. The atmosphere was serene, almost too quiet. As I sat beside her in the car, the silence between us felt heavy, charged with emotions neither of us wanted to confront. I tried to break it with a comment, something light to ease the tension, but before I could finish, she turned to me, her eyes searching mine.

"You know I love you, right?" she said, her voice trembling with both fear and hope.

The words hung in the air, and before I could even process them, she leaned in. Her hands, trembling slightly, cupped my face with a tenderness that made my heart race. Then, she kissed me.

It wasn't rushed or passionate, but soft and hesitant, as if she were pouring all the unspoken words and emotions into that one gentle touch. Her lips lingered on mine, warm and delicate, carrying a mix of sadness and affection. I could feel the depth of her feelings in that brief moment, a confession without words.

When she pulled away, she was blushing, her eyes avoiding mine. Before I could react, she opened the car door and gently nudged me out. As I stood there, still reeling from the kiss, she rolled down the window and called out, "I'll miss you. Will you miss me too?"

Her voice was soft, almost pleading. There were tears running down her face but she didn't exactly cry and I knew then that this moment would stay with me forever. Even if we were to see each other in the future or never have the opportunity to cast glances at each other ever again, I knew the purity of this moment. It were enough to hold back the grief and help us move on with this appealing occasion which was practically impossible for any of us to ever obliterate from our conscience.

I managed a smile and replied, "You already know the answer to that, don't you?"