[Her POV]:
"I skipped three whole classes."
That's how he started the next story. No dramatic buildup. No polished narration. Just that one sentence. I looked up from my notepad, blinking. "You mean... you went straight from 2nd to 6th?" He nodded slowly, resting his head against the wall of the quiet meeting room we always sat in on Sundays.
"Yeah. Just like that. Third, fourth, fifth... all gone."
I didn't ask why. I knew now that sometimes, the answers in Ayan's life weren't shaped by choice.
Ayan's Voice
It was around 2017 when I got into that government school. A full boys' school. No girls. No proper classes. No actual education.
Just uniforms, dust, and a lot of teachers who treated students like helpers.
I spent three years there.
Not learning, really... more like surviving.
I watered plants, carried attendance registers, even brought tea for the staff. Imagine a 12-year-old trying to be both a student and a servant — I was that but even in that weird broken place, I made two best friends. Kaif and Rihan.
They weren't toppers. Not super cool. Just real. Solid.
Every winter, after the last bell rang, we had a habit: we'd walk out of the crowded building, ignore the chaos, and go sit under this one dried-up tree behind the sports room.
It had no leaves. Just crooked branches.
Still, it became our place.
We'd sit there and talk about life. About dreams, family, bikes we'd never own, and sometimes... about the future.
One day, Kaif looked at the sky and said, "Mujhe lagta hai hum teeno bikhad jayenge."
I don't know why he said it, but I knew he was right.
He dropped out after 8th. Started helping at his dad's shop.
I should've dropped too. But I stayed.
Back to Her POV
The way he said that last line, I felt it land somewhere in my chest. That kind of quiet regret, not loud or dramatic — just... still.
He smiled after a pause.
A broken one.
And then continued.
Ayan's Voice
9th grade brought a big change.
Suddenly, it wasn't just boys anymore — it was a co-ed school. Girls and boys together. But I had already forgotten how to talk to girls. Three years in an all-boys environment does that to you.
I was that guy who looked away every time a girl walked by.
And then... there was Sahiba.
She wasn't someone I had conversations with. In fact, I never really talked to her. But she had this simplicity — the way she walked, her calm eyes, always carrying a notebook in her hand. Maybe it was just attraction. Maybe it was something more.
Still, I kept my distance.
There was another girl too — Alisha.
One day I was on my way to school, sitting in the usual school van. A girl took off her dupatta to fix her hair — and I almost choked.
It was her. Alisha.
My classmate. The no.1 beauty of our batch. I had never seen her like that before. I mean... she had a boyfriend. I wasn't even thinking about her that way.
But in that one moment, she didn't feel like just a classmate. She looked... unreal.
I didn't say anything, of course.
Just sat quietly with my heartbeat running a race I never joined.
Back to Her POV
I was laughing softly now, but Ayan wasn't trying to be funny.
He was just sharing.
Like opening a box of memories, one after another — no filter, no edits.
Ayan's Voice
I still remember how me and my boys used to panic before school assembly. We were scared of going up on the stage — to speak, to sing, to even exist in front of everyone.
And then came lockdown.
No school. No assembly. No more Sahiba glances from a distance.
But my birthday that year... yeah, it was a wild one.
You remember this, right?
(He didn't wait for me to answer.)
Flashback: Lockdown Birthday
20th October.
My birthday.
Lockdown rules were strict, but kids in our lane didn't care. They came over, shouted my name like they owned the street. We cut a cake, took pictures, laughed like corona didn't exist.
Later, at night, we went to my small shop. Speakers, lights, some friends dancing like mad.
Around 10 PM, two men walked in.
"Yahan kya ho raha hai?"
I smiled and said, "Sir, birthday party."
Yeah. Dumb move.
They were cops.
Half the kids disappeared like ghosts. Some climbed up to the roof. Some ran into the neighbor's garden. Only me and my best friend sat there like statues.
In my head?
Main toh gaya.
But the uncles didn't do anything. Just stared at us and left.
Still, when I got home... lectures, scoldings, full dramatic background music.
Back to Her POV
His voice quieted after that. The story had ended, but the silence stayed.
I didn't say anything for a moment.
Then, softly, I asked, "What happened with Sahiba? That girl you never talked to?"
Ayan chuckled, looking out the window.
"She proposed to me."
My eyes widened. "Wait, what?!"
He leaned forward, mimicking her voice in a teasing tone, "You look good to me."
"And what did you say?"
"I told her — 'Woh toh sabko lagta hai.'" He smirked.
"And after that?"
"She got a boyfriend."
Of course she did.
He shrugged.
And then, looking at me, he added, "I ended my 10th grade like that. Quietly. Sahiba gone, Kaif gone. But a lot of memories stayed."
Later That Day
When we left the room together — like always — I noticed something.
He didn't look back once.
But I did.
I watched his reflection in the glass as we walked through the corridor. A boy who had skipped childhood. Who had learned to laugh without healing first.
And I realized...
Maybe the stories I loved weren't just his past.
Maybe... they were also his way of surviving it.