From that day on, my life became a careful game of hiding. I was no longer just a student preparing for exams. I was a girl carrying a secret heavier than all my textbooks combined.
Every morning before school, I would delete our chats. Every night, after homework and family dinners, I would sneak into my little corner of the world—my phone—and wait for his name to appear. It was a routine, a loop I lived for.
When the final school bell rang, I didn't walk home—I ran. My heart beat faster not because of the distance, but because of the anticipation. I needed to get to my phone, needed to see if he messaged me, needed to feel that connection.
But secrets have a way of suffocating you. One day, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I told my eldest brother.
"Anna... I need to tell you something."
I didn't dare look at him, so I typed it on WhatsApp instead, my fingers trembling.
He glanced at his phone, then at me. "What is it?"
I hesitated before sending the next message.
"I... I like someone."
His reply came quickly. "What do you mean 'like'?"
I bit my lip, typing slowly,
"I mean... love."
For a long moment, the typing dots disappeared. Then his voice broke the silence. "Jee, you're only seventeen. You still have exams, a future ahead of you. Don't throw it away now."
Desperation rushed through me. My thumbs moved faster than my thoughts.
"But he's Telugu. You always said if it's Telugu, it's okay."
This time, he looked at me directly, shaking his head. "Not now. Later, maybe. If he waits for you, then after your studies, I'll go and talk to his family. But until then... don't get too involved."
His words were stern, yet his eyes softened with the weight of love only an older brother carries.
I forced myself to type,
"Okay, anna."
But inside, my heart screamed louder than ever.
How could I stop?
How could I silence the only voice that made me feel alive?
Of course... I didn't stop.
I became even more careful. I deleted our chats every morning before I left for school. I cleared call logs. I memorized his number, just in case. My parents could check my phone anytime, but I refused to give them proof of him.
At night, while everyone slept, I whispered into my pillow with my phone pressed against my ear, talking to him about everything—school, friends, even my fears. He would laugh, scold me playfully when I worried too much, and sometimes, he would fall silent and just listen to me breathe.
It was dangerous. It was reckless. But it was also the happiest I had ever been.