The school had announced a three-day excursion to Shantiniketan, and the entire class buzzed with excitement. Eisha was the first to jump with joy. "Finally!" she squealed to her mom, "No homework, no classes—just trees, art, and open skies!"
Ayaan, however, looked less enthusiastic when she asked if he was coming.
"I don't know," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. "Dad said no. He's worried about my allergies. Too much dust there."
Eisha's face fell.
"You have to come," she said softly. "It won't be fun without you."
He looked at her, and for the first time in days, there was no teasing in his gaze. Just silence. And something else. Something unspoken.
That night, Ayaan argued with his dad until he gave in.
The train ride was magical. Students played antakshari, shared snacks, and sang songs loudly out of tune. Eisha sat by the window, her scarf flapping in the wind. Ayaan sat beside her, earphones in, pretending not to look at her every five minutes.
Shantiniketan was peaceful, lush, and alive with colors. They stayed in dorms—boys on one side, girls on the other. During the day, they toured Tagore's ashram, took sketching lessons under trees, and danced barefoot on the red earth.
But it was the bonfire night that changed everything.
The teachers lit the fire in the open field. Warm yellow flames crackled in the cool evening air. Everyone sat in a circle—sharing stories, singing songs, laughing.
Eisha was unusually quiet. She sat cross-legged, staring into the fire.
Ayaan noticed.
"You okay?" he whispered.
She nodded, then shook her head. "I don't know."
He waited.
"I feel like… I'm not myself lately. Like, something's missing. Something big. But I don't know what."
Ayaan hesitated. Then softly said, "Maybe you're just… growing up."
She turned to him. "Do you feel it too? Like everything's changing, even us?"
He looked at her—really looked—and for a moment, he wanted to say yes. Say everything. Say that when she laughs with other boys, he feels something sharp in his chest. Say that he didn't talk to Priya that day just to help her. Say that the only reason he came on this trip was her.
But he didn't.
Instead, he said, "Things change. But not us."
Her lips curved into a sad smile. "You sure?"
He nodded. "I'm sure."
And then, for the first time, they didn't fight. They just sat in silence, watching the fire dance between them, unaware that their hearts were already burning with something far deeper than they could name.
That night, back in her dorm, Eisha cried quietly under her blanket. Not from sadness. Not from joy. But from confusion.
She didn't know why Ayaan's words mattered more than anyone else's. Why his silence felt heavier than noise. Why her heart raced when their arms brushed accidentally.
The next morning, before leaving Shantiniketan, the teacher asked everyone to write a one-line message about what they'd learned.
Eisha wrote:
"Not all fires burn outside. Some live quietly inside us."
Ayaan didn't write anything.
He just looked at Eisha as the bus left the gates.
And for the first time in his life…he wanted to hold her hand.
But he didn't.
Not yet.