The city was a cold, grey beast in December. It never felt like Christmas was coming, not really. Just a different kind of chill in the air. I'm Rohan, 16 years old and perpetually alone, was a familiar shadow amongst its concrete bones. My parents, they didn't understand me, or maybe didn't care to. So, I spent my days wandering, letting the city's indifference wrap around me like a worn coat. I found a strange comfort in it, a silence that didn't demand anything.

That's how I ended up in the main park of Kausani, our small hill station, on December first. It was a place I usually avoided; too many families, too much forced cheer. But the pull of the empty paths had been stronger that day. By the time I arrived, every bench was occupied, a sea of strangers I didn't want to be a part of. The cacophony of the park assaulted my senses. Children shrieked, dogs barked, and the distant rumble of traffic pulsed through the air. I navigated the throng of people, my brow furrowed against the noise. Then, I saw her.

She was sitting on a bench, a book open in her lap, a ray of sunlight catching the delicate curve of her cheek. And in that instant, the world dissolved. The noise receded, the chaos vanished. It was as if I were underwater, the cacophony muffled and distant. Her smile, when she looked up, was like a sunrise. It chased away the shadows, leaving behind a warmth that spread through me. There was an ethereal quality about her, an otherworldly grace that made her seem unreal, a being from another dimension.

But the spell was fleeting. A moment later, the noise crashed back in, a jarring reminder of the mundane world. The magic had vanished, leaving me with a lingering ache and the memory of a smile that had briefly silenced the world.

Then I heard it. A voice, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. Soothing, warm, a melody I hadn't known existed. I turned to see where it came from. It was her, her brown hair catching the weak sunlight. Her skin was pale, but not in a sickly way, more like the softest snow. She was pointing to the vacant space beside her, inviting me, an absolute stranger, to sit.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I sat, stiff as a board, my eyes fixed on a random point in the distance as she smelled like special flowers. It was intoxicating. It made me think of lush gardens. I yearned to know more, to delve deeper into the mystery, that was her.

She spoke then, and the words were unexpected, "I'm dying."

Chapter 2 :-whats your name

am dying," she said, smiling. I didn't know how to react, so I smirked and said, "Eh?" a nervous twitch of my lips. It was the dumbest thing I could have ever done. She laughed, a laugh that was the cutest I had ever heard. It was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my fears.

It wasn't the polite kind of chuckle, but a full-throated one. It was pure, genuine, that it disarmed me, pulled me back from the edge of my awkward silence.

And then she began to talk. The words flowed from her, a gentle stream of reminiscences and hopes. She told me all about her life, starting with her mother dying during childbirth, then about her terminal illness, the very one her mom had. She spoke of childhood summers spent chasing fireflies, of lazy afternoons spent reading under the shade of a willow tree. She described the taste of her grandmother's apple pie, the warmth of the sun on her face, the feeling of sand between her toes.

She spoke of dreams deferred, of places she longed to visit - the vibrant markets of Marrakech, the serene temples of Kyoto, the rugged beauty of the Scottish Highlands. She spoke of the music she loved, the books that had shaped her, the people who had touched her heart.

She spoke of friendships, of laughter, of a life lived fully despite the shadow of what was to come. She didn't ask if I wanted to hear; she just poured her story out like water from an overflowing spring. They were a testament to the richness of her life, a reminder that even in the face of darkness, there was still light, still beauty, still joy to be found.

I listened, captivated by her words, by the way her eyes lit up as she described the world she had experienced, the world she still dreamed of. I realized that in the face of mortality, these memories, these hopes, these dreams, were more precious than ever. Her voice became the soundtrack to the setting sun.

I was mesmerized, her words painting vivid images in my mind; of classrooms, dance studios and cinema halls. Time slipped away unnoticed. It was 6:30 before I knew it, and a cold dread filled my chest as I realised that my father would be home soon. I muttered a hasty "Thank you for talking," and started to rush away, the fear of his anger hot on my heels.

But then I paused, a sudden panic gripping me. I didn't know her name! I called out, half-shouting, "What's your name?"

She just smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Come here tomorrow at the same time. I'll tell you then."

I turned around and ran, but the fear had been replaced with something else - a lightness in my chest, a smile on my face. I was running home, smiling like I was touched by a different kind of breeze, and the only thing in my mind was her laugh again and again.

Chapter 3

The next day at school, I couldn't shake off the thoughts of the girl I'd met. A constant smile played on my lips, a cheerful expression that seemed to annoy my classmates.

My classmates, who found pleasure in my misfortunes, started bullying and teasing me for smiling. I tried to ignore their taunts, focusing instead on the memory of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. I replayed their brief encounter in his mind, savouring every detail. The bullying continued, but he remained unfazed. Her image was a shield against their words, a source of quiet joy that nothing could diminish.

I rushed home, barely able to contain his excitement. I changed clothes quickly, a whirlwind of nervous energy urging me onward. My mother called out, but I barely registered her words, already halfway out the door.

The park was my destination, my mind consumed by thoughts of her. I couldn't stop thinking about her all day, her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled. Anticipation bubbled within me as I imagined seeing her again. I arrived there at 4:30 sharp, but she wasn't on the same bench. My heart stuttered for a second. She was on another one, and this time she was not pointing towards the empty space, rather she was just sitting there.

Relief flooded me as soon as I saw her. I walked towards the bench she was sitting on. I stood in front of her but she didn't look up. I started speaking to get her attention.

"So, what's your name?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

She looked up. I saw a glimmer of happiness in her eyes as she saw. "I'll tell you, but first, listen to me," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She started talking again, and I found myself completely entranced by her. After a while, she asked, "Are you even listening?"

I nodded, but the truth was, I wasn't paying attention to her words. I was just looking at her, taking in her smile and her laughter.

And then, she started to talk again. More stories, more anecdotes, more details about her life, her illness, her dreams. And this time, I barely heard them. I noticed the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, in the soft rise and fall of her voice, in the subtle way she gestured with her hands. I was mesmerized by her beauty. I noticed the delicate curve of her cheek, the way a few freckles danced across her nose, and how one of her eyes seemed slightly smaller than the other, a charming imperfection. I was captivated by the way her lips moved as she spoke, and the way her eyes glistened when she passionately described something she loved.

Time just melted away, and suddenly, it was 6 pm. She said that she had to go somewhere and just as she was leaving, she said, "let's meet every day at the same time. And if I don't come one day, it probably means I'm dead."

The next day, the same routine played out. The park, her stories, my silent observation. She talked about her dreams, one of them being climbing the highest peak in Kausani which her father wouldn't allow.

She then asked, "What are your dreams?"

The question hung in the air, unexpected and disarming. I went blank. Dreams? I haven't really given them much thought. My parents never inquired about my aspirations, their focus always on my grades and his future. My classmates were more concerned with the latest video game or the hottest gossip rather than me.

I fell silent, lost in thought. What did I truly want to achieve? What were my passions? After giving it a lot of thought, I answered it, "I want to be happy."

She hit me playfully on the head. "You fool," she said, "Happiness is a choice, not a state." I smiled and we ended the conversation with that.

The next day, she suggested we go to a different place as the park wasn't interesting for her anymore. I asked her where did she want to go and she just said, let's walk and decide.

After a while of walking, we found an arcade at the end of the street. She grabbed my hand and started running towards the arcade. She was smiling and laughing. I felt a surge of feelings I have never felt before.

We checked out all the games, then we headed towards the bowling alley. She was a natural at bowling. She consistently struck, only missing twice throughout the game. I, on the other hand, struggled immensely. I barely managed to get a single strike, my attempts often ending in a gutter ball.

She laughed contagiously throughout our time at the arcade. When we finally stepped out, I was surprisingly annoyed. I made a childish face at her, refusing to speak.

She quickly realized she had upset me, though she couldn't quite understand why. "I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice laced with concern.

I, however, was enjoying the drama. "Will you repeat it?" I challenged with a smirk.

"No," she replied, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

I couldn't help but smile. "Good," I said, breaking the tension.

I playfully chased her down the empty road, determined to teach her a lesson for teasing me. We raced each other, our laughter echoing through the stillness of the air. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the pure joy of their shared moment.

She then told me she was going to visit her granny in Kerala for three days and wouldn't be able to see me during that time.

Before I could feel too disappointed, she added, "But when I get back, we absolutely have to climb the tallest peak of Kausani Hills!"

I smiled. That sounded like an adventure.

Chapter 4

Three long days.

The three days without her felt like a lifetime. The city seemed muted, the colours dull. It was like a part of me was missing. She had filled the void with her laughter, with her stories, with her very presence, and now there was nothing to fill the emptiness.

I kept replaying our interactions in my head, remembering every detail from the way her hair fell across her face to the way her lips curved when she smiled. I realised, with a start, that I had developed feelings for her. Feelings I had never imagined I could have. She wasn't just a person anymore, she was my dream, my happiness, my love. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

When she came back, she said "Oi Rohan, did you miss me?", half sarcastically. What she didn't know is that I did. A lot. I replied "did you miss me?" She replied that she didn't, that she had fun at her grannie's place. She then said that to make it up to her, we were going to climb the highest peak. We walked and walked she started blabbering about her time at her grannies, that how she fed a cow etc I was not paying attention of course, I was seeing that smile after 3 long days that moment i realised why those 3 days felt that long, I was in love with her, I wanted to shout it out, to let the mountains echo with the truth that had blossomed within me. "I love you," I yearned to say, the words trembling on my lips. But the words that tumbled out were a clumsy, unexpected betrayal. "I want to eat ice cream," I blurted, my cheeks burning with mortification.

A nearby ice cream parlour, its cheerful awning a beacon in the morning light, had inadvertently derailed his confession.

She laughed, a melodious sound that chased away the lingering awkwardness. "Ice cream it is!" she declared, her eyes twinkling.

she playfully smeared a dollop of chocolate ice cream above her lip, transforming herself into a comical caricature of a mustachioed gentleman. I couldn't help but laugh, the sound erupting from him, genuine and unrestrained.

And then, she laughed too, a joyous, infectious sound that mirrored his own. In that shared laughter, the weight of the past three days seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound understanding.

This moment, this simple, shared joy over a silly game, was a revelation. I was falling, and i was falling hard.

Chapter 5

Oranges, Reds and Purples

I told my parents I was going to a group study at a friend's house after school and wouldn't be back until late. It was a lie, but for the first time in my life, I felt a genuine reason to step out of my shell., I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the park. The bench where we usually met was empty, but I knew she would be there soon. She had promised we would climb the tallest hill today, and I was determined to make it the best day of her life, and mine.

The air was crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the warmth that had started to grow inside me. I couldn't help but smile as I thought about her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled, and the scent of flowers that always surrounded her. It was as if she had brought a piece of the sun with her wherever she went, and I was grateful to be in her orbit, even if it was just for a short while.

She appeared, as if on cue, her brownish hair catching the light and her white skin glowing. "Oi, Rohan!" she called out, her voice as sweet and soothing as ever. I felt my heart leap. She was wearing a light jacket and a pair of jeans, ready for an adventure. "Ready to climb?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

I nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. We started walking, but soon she grabbed my hand and pulled me along, her grip firm and warm. "Come on, slowpoke!" she laughed, and I couldn't help but smile. We raced each other through the winding streets of the hill station, the morning sun casting a golden hue over everything. The people we passed by gave us curious looks, but I didn't care. For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere, with someone.

The climb was arduous, but her spirit was indomitable. Her face was flushed from the effort, and a few strands of hair escaped her braid and danced in the wind. We reached the summit as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in a riot of oranges, reds, and purples. The whole of Kausani stretched beneath us, a breathtaking canvas of tiny houses and winding roads

Her face was lit up with joy as she took in the whole scenery, she said it's beautiful isn't it i agreed and said yes it's very beautiful but by it i meant her eyes not the scenery we spent some time and came back down

The next day after school, she came to meet me. My classmates were shocked, seeing me with someone like her I asked her what she is doing here, I missed you she said I felt like shouting yaya but i remained silent.

.Days passed in a blur of shared laughter, whispered conversations, and stolen glances. I was falling more and more in love with her, each day making my love grow stronger.

Chapter 6

On December 23rd, I arrived at the park, my heart pounding with a nervous excitement I hadn't known I was capable of. I held a bouquet of her favorite flowers, carefully selected from a local vendor, and a small note,that said "I love you," I had written, with trembling hands.

I couldn't wait to see her face when I gifted her the flowers and the note. I couldn't wait to ask her to be mine, even knowing that she was going to die. My heart was beating too fast.

But she wasn't there.

I waited I waited i , each minute stretching into an eternity. 4:30 turned to 5:00, then to 5:30, and finally to 6:00. Panic started to set in. My heart was beating faster and faster with every second that passed. The smile on my face was fading. My eyes started to tear up. The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me. I started tearing up but In the same time checking for her and wishing she would come, I kept hearing her voice, calling my name, but it was just a hallucination.

It was 6:30. The bouquet slipped from my hands and fell to the ground. She was gone. She was dead.

I was in great shock, my hands started trembling i slowly stood and started walking.

I walked home, alone, the longest walk of my life, each step leadening my feet like chains i did not know if i was sad for her death or for the fact that the only love story in my life was incomplete. I reached home I went to bed and slept.

My mom woke me up the next morning for school. I went to school.

On my way to school, I saw a big crowd near the steel turning. There was blood on the ground.and I noticed a bouquet on the side of the road. It was the one I had given her, the note still attached, but there was another note beneath it. It read, "I love you too."

I fell to my knees She was gone, she died in a road accident while coming to my home with the bouquet, this time though I had tears it were not tears of sadness i couldn't understand but i smiled .my love was not incomplete!! Tho she was gone the happiness she ignited within me, that was something that would stay with me. I wiped my tears and smiled.