Her POV – Ayan's Story Hour
I've learned something about Ayan over the past few weeks.
No matter how casually he begins a story, no matter how often he shrugs it off like "this one's nothing," what follows always—always—stays with me longer than I expect.
"I once got into an accident because I was too scared to ride past a group of girls."
That's how today's chapter started. He said it like someone talking about the weather.I had just opened my diary, ready to scribble notes from his childhood, but this time I froze, blinked at him, and stared.
"What?""No seriously, what?"
"Yeah," he repeated, resting his head against the wall."I was that shy. I mean, I still kind of am."
He chuckled, but something about the way he avoided my eyes made me pause.Then, like a scene he'd already replayed in his mind too many times, he took me back…
It was during 10th class.He had just started cycling to school again.
The route was familiar, the roads quiet, and school was fine that day—nothing unusual. He stayed quiet in class, kept to himself, and when the bell rang, his friends offered to walk together. But he waved them off.
"I've got my cycle. I'll catch up."
That's when it happened.
He turned down a side road, pedaling alone. He was maybe two turns from home. And then—
He spotted a group of girls walking ahead. Not close. Just… ahead.
And for reasons only Ayan could truly understand, his brain went into panic mode.
"I don't know what I was thinking," he muttered."I just didn't want to pass them slowly. So I... sped up."
No bell.No slow-down.Just full speed.
A classic Ayan move.
At that exact moment, a man on a bike came from the opposite direction, right into the same narrow turn. What happened next, he described with a mix of horror and humor:
"His leg hit my back tire. I flew. Not dramatically—just… enough to twist everything."
The cycle wheel bent out of shape.He managed to stay upright, but the whole thing looked like a slow-motion accident in a cartoon.
His friends, who were behind, ran up to him yelling, "Abe bhai! Tu thik hai?"
But Ayan?
He just stood there.
Numb. Quiet. Embarrassed beyond words.
"I wasn't even hurt," he said."I was just… humiliated."
He limped home with the broken cycle and said nothing to anyone.
No accident report. No complaint.
"I thought maybe no one would notice."
I gave him a look.He raised his eyebrows like: "I know."
The next morning, his grandfather saw the tire and went full Dad Mode on him. Yelling. Lectures. Maybe even a few scoldings.
"But still, no one asked how it happened," he said with a sad smile."No one ever thinks there's a story behind shame."
I didn't laugh. Not at first.
Because as funny as it sounds—boy gets into accident trying to avoid girls—something about the story felt… honest. Raw.
"You were scared of girls," I teased gently."What about now?"
He looked at me.
And in a low, awkward voice he whispered,
"Still am."
Later, while we were locking up for the day, a group of college girls passed by outside.Ayan stepped slightly to the side to let them go first.
He didn't notice he'd done it.But I did.
And for the first time, I realized… even the smallest stories leave their traces.In the way someone walks, avoids, or even dares to look back.
And the boy who once feared girls?
He tells his stories to one every week now.
And I'm not going anywhere.