The Unspoken

A Gentle Shades Of Pink

It was his second year in college, and the weight of the city, the relentless pace of classes, and the quiet battles within himself had pushed him to the edge. 

So, he returned home—his small, familiar hometown—to heal. 

The long, exhausting journey from the big city had left him drained, and the only thing on his mind was finding solace, even if just for a little while, before returning to the life he'd put on pause. His wardrobe was simple: a loose black shirt and training pants, the kind of outfit that reflected his desire to blend in, to not stand out. 

It was a quiet day, and with no particular destination, he found himself heading toward the small campus that had been a part of his youth. There was no expectation in his steps, just the hope that the calm atmosphere of home would mend the restlessness inside him.

He hadn't expected to hear his name that afternoon. On a bright, sunny day, the kind where everything felt alive and warm as if summer itself had descended on the small campus in his hometown. A gentle voice yet unmistakably familiar—cut through the air, freezing him in place. He turned, scanning the area until his eyes found her: a woman dressed in soft shades of pink, sitting quietly in the canteen, her face framed by a macaron-colored hijab.

He hesitated for a moment, trying to place her in his memory. Her face was no longer the same as the one etched in his mind from childhood—more mature and elegant, yet with a softness that made her instantly recognizable.

Neither of them had expected to meet that day.

They had been friends once—an old friend, back when life was simpler. When they both believed that the world was limitless and was theirs for the taking. Neither of them could have predicted this moment, this strange, serendipitous reunion, orchestrated by some invisible force in the universe. It felt almost predestined like something had drawn them back together after all these years.

From his eyes, she had changed a lot. There was a maturity in her, a grace that he hadn't seen before. Her personality, too, had shifted—more poised, more self-assured. It was as if the girl he once knew had evolved into someone far beyond his youthful memories. Yet, from her perspective, he seemed largely the same. There was a comfort in his familiar presence, a reminder of the simplicity they both had once known.

There was a faint scar on her lower chin, a reminder of something recent, an accident perhaps. But her eyes... they still held the same kindness, the same curiosity that had always set her apart. 

She smiled, and suddenly, it was as though the years between them evaporated. 

He approached her with a hesitant smile, not quite believing his eyes. She greeted him with a peal of soft laughter, the excitement in her voice filling the quiet space around them. The canteen, otherwise empty, felt strangely intimate.

She sat surrounded by nothing but an abandoned iced tea, its contents slowly melting under the sun's warmth. He took a seat diagonally in front of her, his heart racing as nostalgia wrapped itself around them both.

"I've been away for seven years," she said, her voice carrying a hint of wonder as if she herself could barely believe it. "But I'm back now. Finally."

She had always exuded elegance, even more so now. After six long years of studying abroad and another year in civil service, she returned home with a renewed sense of purpose. Though she had taken a gap year to figure things out, she wasn't one to linger in indecision for long. She's Independent, confident, and filled with excitement for what lies ahead.

He listened intently, soaking up every word. For so long, she had been a distant memory, a girl from his past who had always seemed just beyond his reach. In their younger years, they had never been close. She was always the one admired from afar, a figure bathed in the glow of childhood innocence but unattainable. Yet here they were, sitting together in the same space, sharing stories of the lives they had led apart.

They spoke of their childhood—those carefree days where their biggest worry was school and the most important thing was to play and discover the world. Every word she spoke brought back images of their shared past like faded photographs slowly coming into focus. In every memory, in every laugh, he saw her not just as the girl he had known, but as the woman she had become.

"I wasn't sure I'd end up back here," she continued after a pause. "I took a gap year. I didn't really know what I wanted to do. I applied to a few universities and civil service academies. But I kept getting rejected."

He watched as her lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile, tugged at the corner of her lips, a bittersweet expression the kind that hinted at the weight of those rejections. As if recalling the weight of those disappointments. He leaned in, sensing there was more to her story.

"I applied to this university as a last resort," she said with a small laugh, "to study pharmacy of all things. I didn't even know if I was interested in it, honestly. It felt like I was settling like I was making the wrong choice. For months, I questioned myself. I wondered if I'd wasted my time."

She paused, glancing up at him, her eyes searching his face for understanding.

Her eyes met his, searching for understanding. He nodded gently, encouraging her to continue.

"But then, over time, I began to realize something. Pharmacy may not have been my first choice, but it's important. Opening my own pharmacy store became my goal, and now that I'm here, it feels like the right place. It's not glamorous, but it's where I belong."

He nodded, captivated by her honesty. He had always admired her determination, though they had never been close enough for him to witness it so clearly. There was something deeply personal about the way she spoke now, revealing a vulnerability he hadn't seen before. She had always seemed so sure of herself, even when they were young, but hearing her talk about her doubts made her feel more real, more human.

"I got this scar on my way home a few months ago," she said, lightly touching the small mark on her lower chin. "A small accident, nothing serious, but it left me with a reminder that life can change in an instant." She smiled softly, her fingers lingering on the spot for just a moment before she dropped her hand.

Time seemed to slow down, each second stretching into infinity. 

He found himself lost in her words and her presence. 

It was as though the world had shrunk down to just the two of them, enveloped in a bubble of shared history and quiet understanding. They talked of old friends—some still in their lives, some long gone, and one they mourned together. Every story pulled them deeper into the past, a bittersweet reminder of all that had been left behind.

As the hours passed, he realized something. She wasn't the girl he had once known, and he wasn't the boy who had watched her from the sidelines. They had both changed, shaped by time and distance and yet, in some way, they were still the same. The connection between them was still there, fragile yet undeniable.

But all too soon, the conversation began to wind down. The afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the canteen. She reached for her pink coat, her face still glowing with the warmth of their exchange. There was something in her expression—a mix of contentment and sadness, as if she too felt the weight of this moment slipping away.

They stood up, exchanging a final smile. For him, there was a lingering question: would they meet again? Or was this just a fleeting moment, a brief pause in the chaos of life before they each returned to their separate paths? He didn't know. Maybe this was all they would ever have—just a chance encounter, a nostalgic reunion.

A reminder of the simplicity they had once known.

As she walked away, he watched her, the soft fabric of her abaya catching the breeze, fluttering like a fleeting memory slipping through his fingers. A sense of longing gripped him, a quiet ache that nestled deep in his chest. 

He had a heart to keep elsewhere, he reminded himself—a commitment that grounded him in the present, no matter how much this moment stirred something long buried within. 

And perhaps, in some unspoken way, so did she.

But as the distance grew between them, he couldn't shake the feeling that, for a moment, they had both stepped out of time—back to a place where life was uncomplicated and their friendship had never been interrupted.

~ The End ~