I saw the message. My heart skipped a beat. I jumped up from my bed—my phone had been lying near my mother, and I had to grab it before anyone noticed. "I have some work… school stuff… I need to study," I muttered casually, hoping they'd believe me. Then I slipped into the empty room down the hall and sat there, phone in hand.
The message glowed on the screen: "I'm watching you."
My hands trembled slightly. Who was this? My habit—my strict upbringing—meant I usually cleared messages from unknown numbers, especially boys. But this one… something made me pause. I typed carefully: "Who are you?"
A reply popped up almost instantly: "I'm watching you all the time."
I blinked. "Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm just kidding. I'm Akayy," he replied.
It clicked instantly. My stomach did flips. Mr. Popular.
"What do you want?" I typed cautiously.
"There's a project we have to build. Just for now, you and I'll select a few more students later. I just wanted to tell you first."
I groaned internally. Why now? Why at night?
"I had to message you. I know you haven't saved my number—you probably got scared. So, I had to tell you now," he added.
I felt my frustration spike, but a strange flutter of curiosity followed.
The next day, I went to school, trying to push all of that aside. But as I sat in class, the chaos around me unfolded like clockwork. Friends whispered secrets, alliances formed and broke in the blink of an eye, eyes flicked and darted like spies in some covert mission…
And as I watched the pandemonium, my mind drifted. Drifted to a different school, a different version of me… and him.
It was February, the week of Valentine's. Back then, Maya, Tia, and I had our little code. Everything we wanted to say, we said the opposite. If I wanted to say I hate you, I said I love you. If I wanted to say I love you, I said I hate you. Confusing for everyone else—but our little world thrived on it. Life back then felt so colorful, so bright, so happy—teasing each other endlessly, laughing until our stomachs hurt, sharing little secrets that made every day feel magical.
Somehow… Abhi had found out.
Maya whispered to me one day, carrying the world's most precious secret: "Kriti… Abhi's friend said he talks about you. He says you're his girlfriend… that he treats you like his girlfriend… that you're the one he wants…"
I laughed—nervous, breathless, pure. I didn't even understand why. But I had wanted to hear it. For years. That first crush had planted itself deep in my chest, and now it was waking up in ways I couldn't control.
The next day, on the bus, I sat beside him and asked, "Tell me… what did you say?"
He looked at me, calm, unreadable. "I said nothing, Kriti. Why would I say that?"
I blinked. "Then… why did Maya say this?"
He shook his head. "I haven't said anything. Kriti… I wouldn't objectify you. Ever."
That moment… it hit me. He cared. And later, when he gently scolded Maya for spilling secrets, I realized even then he protected the people he cared about.
That was the day I didn't speak to him. My little 6th-grade heart felt fierce and conflicted. But the next day—Valentine's—he came to class, humbled and sincere.
"I'm sorry, Kriti," he said softly. "I shouldn't have said anything to your friend… I just… messed up."
Then, on the bus, he got it—our opposite-words game.
"So… you do this thing?" he asked, curious.
I nodded.
He smiled, teasing lightly. "Kriti… you're a good girl."
I laughed. "A good girl? You're ridiculous! Okay, okay… I'm a good girl."
"And I love you," he added quietly.
My stomach flipped. That little confession—indirect, awkward, perfect—made my heart soar.
Even later, when he joked, "No, you're a bad girl. I hate you," I understood. Indirectly, he was telling the truth all along.
Back then, life was so colorful and joyous—full of teasing, laughter, and little moments that made the days feel endless. And now… sitting in this new classroom, surrounded by faces I didn't yet know, that world felt like it had vanished, leaving only a soft echo in my heart. A memory that made me ache, smile, and long all at once.
I missed it—the presence, the warmth, the magic. Even as I tried to survive this new world, part of me clung to that old love, that little pocket of happiness that had once made me feel… truly alive.
Those memories—the laughter, the teasing, the confessions—made my chest ache sweetly.
And yet… reality tugged at me. Our teacher called me and Akayy for the project. Today, he wasn't in his usual goofy mood. Serious. Focused.
I felt a flicker of tension. The message, the memory, the playful Abhi in my heart—it all collided with the Akayy sitting across from me, silently waiting for instructions. The game had shifted.