"Please say something, give me an answer," I said loudly.
In reply, Arafat said, "No, it's not possible."
I said, "Why? Why isn't it possible? Do you love someone else? That girl, the one you were with in the rickshaw yesterday?"
"She's my cousin," Arafat said.
"Then what? What's the problem? Don't you love me?" I asked, with tear-filled eyes.
"Yes, but what's the point? Our love, at our age, does any of it have a future? Suppose everything is fine now. With my studies, it's not possible for me to go to university or study in the same place as you. It sounds easy, but in reality, it's very difficult. Our relationship is better off as a friendship," Arafat said.
"So you're giving up before even trying? Do you think it's possible for us to go back to being just friends after this conversation? Did you forget your own words? A few days ago, after I didn't win first place in the competition and gave up, you told me that giving up without trying is a sign of cowardice. So, are you trying to prove yourself a coward now?" I said.
"I don't know what I should do," Arafat said.
"Sometimes you have to listen to your heart instead of your mind. Listen to your heart and give me an answer. Please. My path depends on your answer today," I said.
Without thinking, Arafat immediately said, "I am listening to both my heart and mind. I love you, Zara."
As soon as I heard this, I hugged Arafat.
I didn't look at anything around me. Listening to my heart, I hugged Arafat.
Arafat said to me, "Let go! We're still in college campus , if someone sees us, they'll call us bad kids."
I let go, and we started walking home together.
From that day on, our friendship evolved into a romantic relationship.
I invited Arafat to my house for Eid, but he didn't come. I got very angry; it was our first fight. Although it was only me who was angry. I didn't talk to him for a day. Later, Arafat made up with me.
There was a thin line between our friendship and our relationship . When we were friends, there was a slight distance between us, but after falling in love, the distance decreased.
Arafat's birthday was on September 17. Actually, Arafat was a few months younger than me, but that didn't matter.
Since Arafat didn't have a phone, I gave him a smartphone as a birthday gift. At that time, not everyone had phones, and even if they did, most had button phones.
Seeing my gift, Arafat made many excuses not to take it. The main reason was that he had given me a gift on my birthday. Another reason was convincing his father.
After much difficulty, I made Arafat accept the gift.
Once Arafat got the phone, we talked almost all day on Messenger. We also talked a lot on the phone.
Sometimes I accidentally write in the present tense because, while writing, I feel like these things are happening to me right now. I forget which is the past and which is the present.
No one could tell from a distance that we were in a romantic relationship because we didn't cling to each other like other couples. We talked and interacted with respect.
Anyway, our relationship was going very well. Even during the HSC (12th board exam), we would talk on the phone for an hour or half an hour each day, even if we couldn't meet.
Then came the admission coaching. I moved to Dhaka and stayed at an aunt's house while attending coaching classes.
Arafat didn't do any coaching. According to him, business students don't need coaching.
I stayed at my aunt's house, where it was difficult to talk. My uncle had a very Islamic mindset, so we couldn't talk much, only when I was coming back from coaching. I used to go home twice a month and meet Arafat then.
The admission season ended. I got into the Computer Science department at Dhaka University, among other universities.
Arafat didn't get into any. The happiness I felt from my admission disappeared because Arafat didn't get in.
I met Arafat at our usual meeting place in front of the canal by the "Mudir Lal Bridge."
Arafat's father was very disappointed with Arafat's results. Arafat would retake the university exam next year and study honors at the college for now.
Before starting classes at the university, I met Arafat as often as possible. We talked a lot, as much as we could.
I moved to Dhaka. I stayed at my aunt's house until I got a dorm room.
I regularly talked to Arafat on the phone. This went on for some time.
I used to go home every two weeks, and then I would meet Arafat at that bridge. We'd go for a little walk and then I'd return to Dhaka.
One day, I went out with my uncle. There was no electricity, and there was a nice breeze outside.
We sat in a park, and my uncle quickly took me away after seeing a boy and a girl kissing.
I thought then, what kind of love is this where one shows their love in such a way? A person can never look at their loved one with lustful eyes. Those who do are not in love; they are pretending to love or are giving their lust the name of love to console themselves.
My uncle said to me, "This country is full of such things, wherever you look, people are doing this. It's disgraceful. There is a lack of religious values. This so-called love is destroying society."
While he was saying this, it started to rain.
We stood under a shop's awning, and my uncle said, "Ah! The sky was clear. Now it looks like this alley will flood again."
I didn't say anything. I saw a boy and a girl in uniform under the same umbrella. I wasn't sure if they were siblings, friends, or lovers, but I saw the boy's shoulder getting wet as he tried to keep the girl dry. Even under the same umbrella, there was a little distance between them because the boy was trying to ensure his body didn't touch hers.