Their study session had stretched into the late hours, the silence of the night surrounding them like a soft, protective veil. Adarsh sat in front of his laptop, his eyes fixed on the screen. The only sound in the room was the faint clicking of the keyboard as his fingers moved silently. He wasn't physically speaking, but his thoughts were alive with the words he couldn't say out loud.
Across the screen, Naomi's chat bubble flickered with short replies, but her mind was wandering elsewhere. Her eyes drifted, as they often did, to the outline of Adarsh's dim silhouette on his icon. She knew his style by now—the dim lighting, his face usually partly shadowed, making his presence feel both near and far at the same time.
When he finally paused, she seized her chance.
"Let's take a break. Want to play a game?" she typed, a playful sparkle in her eye that didn't need a camera to be felt.
Adarsh's fingers hovered over the keys. A game? He'd never been one to express himself openly—smiling, speaking, any kind of emotion was something that his family had long since trained him to suppress. The thought of being too expressive made his chest tighten. It wasn't worth the trouble—his family's prying eyes, their endless questions, and their controlling nature. They'd ask why he was smiling, why he was laughing, and what was on his screen. It made him feel small, like he was being watched for any sign of joy that they could crush.
But Naomi's message broke through the fog. He could sense the energy in her words—the playfulness, the warmth. It made him want to engage, even if just a little.
Two truths and a lie, he thought. That's simple enough.
He typed back, "Alright. You go first."
Naomi's reply was quick, filled with confidence.
"I'm terrified of cockroaches." "I accidentally dyed my hair green once." "My favorite color is pink."
Adarsh stared at her words, his expression unreadable. Cockroaches? He imagined her reaction to them, a genuine fear. But Adarsh knew fear well—his own was more internal. He could relate. There were things that terrified him too, but none of them were as visible as a cockroach. They were feelings, buried deep inside, things he couldn't voice, couldn't share with anyone, not even Naomi.
He thought about her carefully before responding. His mind, sharp as ever, pieced together the patterns in her words. "The lie… It's the color. It's not pink, is it?"
Naomi's reply came swiftly, followed by a playful stream of laughing emojis. "Nope! It was the color. It's blue!"
He didn't smile, but there was a soft sense of relief in his chest. Naomi had guessed it, but more importantly, she was still here, still engaging with him, despite the lack of personal interaction.
Now, it was his turn. He could almost feel Naomi waiting, poised for his answers. But how could he give them without revealing too much? His family was always watching, always asking.
Adarsh hesitated. He looked around his dimly lit room. The walls felt closer tonight. Just the game. Nothing more. His fingers typed without hesitation, though there was an undercurrent of careful calculation in each sentence.
"I'm the type to enjoy a quiet day alone." "I love horror movies." "My favorite color is purple."
As soon as the words were sent, Adarsh leaned back, feeling a knot form in his stomach. Will she figure it out? he thought.
Naomi's response was quick, but there was a noticeable pause before she typed. "I think the lie is the horror movie one. You don't seem like a fan of those."
Adarsh felt his fingers tighten around the keys. Naomi was right. The lie was the movies. Horror felt too raw for him—too chaotic. He couldn't handle the stress of a jump scare when his whole life already felt like a horror movie.
His fingers danced across the keys again. "You're right. Real-life horror is enough for me."
He sat back, almost imagining her smile through the screen. He didn't need to see it; he felt it. Their shared understanding was quiet, but it spoke volumes in the silence between their messages.
Then Naomi typed a small confession of her own. "I'll admit, I'm really picky with my food. I can't eat leftovers unless it's pizza."
Adarsh raised his eyebrows—if anyone else had said that, he would have laughed. But Naomi had a certain way of saying things that didn't require him to react too much. Her quirks were endearing, and they made him feel comfortable, even when he couldn't show it.
He typed back, "No judgment. I'm the same with cold tea."
Naomi's response was quick, full of laughing emojis. "Cold tea? You really are quirky."
Adarsh felt the faintest tug at the corner of his lips. The moment passed quickly. The smile never made it to his face, but inside, it was there. He liked this. He liked the subtle understanding between them. It was easier this way—no need for words that could give away too much.
Finally, Naomi typed a question that made him stop.
"why your favorite color is purple? You never said."
Adarsh felt the quiet pressure of the question, the need to share something personal. He looked up at the night sky outside his window, the dark expanse stretching on forever. There it was, the one thing that felt like it belonged to him. The color of the stars, the deep purple of the universe.
"Purple," he typed, his fingers moving slowly across the keys. "It's the color of the sky at night. It's calm, but also endless."
Naomi's response was warm, her message coming through with an understanding that seemed to fill the silence.
"I get that," she typed. "I always loved the way the ocean looks at sunset. The fading light, that deep blue… it's like the whole world is slowing down."
Adarsh's chest tightened. She understood him, even without seeing his face. It was strange how someone so far away could understand something so close to his heart.
The game continued, the distance between them feeling less like miles and more like a shared space where words could be the only bridge. And for once, Adarsh didn't feel so alone.