The silence between us stretched longer than I had expected. The noise of the street food vendors, the chatter of passersby, and the occasional honk of a distant rickshaw all seemed to fade into the background.
She stood there, eyes fixed on me, as if searching for something—an explanation, a reason, an escape.
My heart pounded in my chest, each second feeling like an eternity. I was sweating profusely, thinking of what she had to say or what if she throws something at me?
"Say something," I finally whispered, my voice barely above the hum of the city.
She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. A small crease formed between her brows.
"I… I don't know what to say," she finally admitted, her voice softer than usual.
I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. I had spent weeks, maybe months, imagining this moment. But nowhere in my fantasies had I prepared for this. It wasn't rejection, not acceptance, just uncertainty.
"You don't have to say anything right now," I said quickly, forcing a small smile. "Take your time. Just… think about it."
She looked at me, still searching.
"I don't want to hurt you," she murmured.
That was enough of an answer. And I felt rejected.
But I didn't say anything. Instead, I just nodded again, stuffing my hands into my pockets as if that would stop them from trembling.
"Let's head back?" she asked after a while.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my lips to curve upward. "Yeah, sure."
That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept asking the same question, was I too quick to confess?
I kept replaying the moment over and over in my head. I kept thinking about her hesitation, the way her voice softened when she said she didn't want to hurt me. What did that mean?
Should I say sorry, I thought to myself.
I stared at my phone, debating whether to text her. But what would I even say?
"Hey, just checking if you've decided to break my heart yet?"
I sighed and tossed my phone aside. I needed to stop overthinking.
But how could I, when everything about her occupied my mind?
Days passed, and things were… different.
She didn't avoid me, nor did she act like nothing had happened. Instead, she was softer, more careful. She still laughed with her friends, still cracked jokes, but when she looked at me, there was something else in her eyes.
Something I couldn't quite place.
One afternoon, we found ourselves sitting on the balcony, a place where students often went to escape the noise of the classrooms. The sun was setting, casting everything in hues of gold and orange.
"I've been thinking about what you said," she finally spoke, breaking the silence between us.
My breath hitched. "And?"
She bit her lip. "I don't know what to feel, like, I know that I like talking to you. But I am not sure about anything more."
I didn't know what I had expected, but those words sent warmth through my chest.
"Then that's enough," I said softly. "You don't have to rush. Just… let it happen naturally."
She smiled—a small, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.
"Okay then, Let's give us a shot."
It wasn't a confession. It wasn't a promise.
But it was an opportunity for me. And for now, that was enough.