❀ 𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ❀
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
In the bustling corridors of a lively Indian high school, amidst the chaos of classes we find Meera Sharma, is the kind of girl who seems ordinary at f...
Hey, dear readers! *Peeking out from the curtains* yeah it's me, i am alive! Don't throw your slippers at me, please *puppy eyes* i know i know..... sorry 1000 times sorry.
I was dealing with some health issues but i am back now Yayyyyy i promise i will be consistent from now.
Forgive me, my dear readers. *crying emoji*
Sorry for being dramatic.
Happy reading :)
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I sat there on the cold bench, staring blankly at the ground, my foot absentmindedly tracing invisible patterns in the dirt. It was already 5:30, and I'd been sitting here for thirty minutes, waiting.
He was supposed to come at 5 o'clock. That's what he said. "We should meet this Sunday," he'd told me, but now here I was, alone, while the sun had already set.
The children who had been playing in the garden earlier had long gone home, and the few people left were just finishing their evening walks.
I checked my phone again. Nothing. No call. No text. I had called him more than ten times. No answer. I sent him several messages-nothing. Not even a single checkmark to show that he'd read them.
It was Sunday, his idea to meet, and yet he didn't even bother to check his phone. My heart sank as frustration bubbled up inside me. Am I just a fool for sitting here, waiting like this?
Maybe he was busy, I tried telling myself, maybe he got caught up in something and forgot. But still, the silence was crushing. Even if he was busy, a simple text would've been enough, something to let me know. Anything. But all I got was silence.
I sighed, not knowing what to do anymore. I told my mom I'd be home in an hour, and now, 35 minutes had already passed.
Just ten more minutes, Meera, I told myself, just ten more minutes, and then you can leave.
At least then you won't regret that you didn't came, and it will be his fault for forgetting, not yours for having hope.
But as the minutes ticked by, those hopes slowly crumbled. Ten more minutes, then another five. My patience had drained, and anger started to simmer. I felt foolish.
Why did I even come here?
Why did I put so much hope into this?
I stood up from the bench, frustrated at myself more than at him. Next time, I thought bitterly, I won't be so quick to forgive him with just a smile.
