The next day, the air felt thicker, heavier. I couldn't shake off the image of her waving from below. Every time I tried to focus in class, my thoughts kept drifting back to that moment on the terrace, when everything seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Her smile lingered in my mind, like a quiet storm I couldn't escape.
School dragged on, the hours crawling by in a blur of half-heard lessons and restless glances toward the window. The weight of the silence between us—me and her—felt unbearable. I couldn't help but wonder what it all meant, if anything.
Lunchtime came again, and Nitesh was his usual self, pulling me along with his group to the terrace. But today, I didn't have the same energy. The excitement from yesterday felt far away, like it belonged to another world. I joined them at the usual spot, but I found myself standing at the railing again, looking out over the school grounds.
Nitesh noticed right away. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" he asked, his voice light, but there was something more to it this time, like he knew exactly what was on my mind.
I didn't answer right away. I just stared out, feeling the wind tug at my thoughts. The others in his group were laughing and talking as usual, but it all felt distant.
"Man," Nitesh continued, "you really can't get over that, huh?"
I turned to him, surprised by how much he seemed to understand. "What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to play it cool.
He raised an eyebrow. "You and her, dude. It's obvious."
I felt my cheeks flush, but I couldn't bring myself to deny it. Instead, I just muttered, "It's not that simple."
Nitesh shrugged, the smile on his face never fading. "Maybe not. But sometimes, things are simpler than we make them. If you keep avoiding it, you might miss your chance."
I didn't know how to respond to that. The thought of missing something—someone—had never felt so real before. I turned back toward the railing, staring out at nothing in particular.
"Anyway," Nitesh said after a pause, "the picnic wasn't all that great without you, you know? We all missed having you there."
I glanced at him, surprised. "You said you didn't go."
He grinned. "I didn't. But it wasn't the same without you. You're one of us, dude."
His words hit harder than I expected. I was used to feeling like an outsider, but Nitesh's words were like an unexpected bridge across a gap I hadn't known existed.
The conversation shifted after that, and we all ate and talked like nothing had happened. But as the day wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was changing, even if I didn't know exactly what it was.
That evening, as I lay in bed, I kept replaying the events of the day—the moments with Nitesh, the fleeting connection with her. I couldn't help but wonder: Was it time to stop avoiding what was right in front of me?
Tomorrow, maybe, I would find out.