They met in college, but not in the usual way where people walk through open corridors, attend lectures, and slowly learn each other's names. Their college, like many in rural areas, didn't open regularly. It came alive only during examinations—just a few intense days where students arrived with nervous faces, hurried steps, and last-minute revision notes. Yet in those few days, destinies sometimes brushed against each other quietly, without warning.
For him, that examination day was supposed to be simple: reach early, find his seat, write the paper, and go home. He had always been a disciplined student, a boy who valued marks and dreams equally. With 92% in his 12th, he carried the silent pride of hard work. He had no idea that in a single morning, something far more powerful than marks would slip into his life.
She arrived with her father. A girl with 96%, the kind of student teachers admire instantly and relatives proudly talk about during family gatherings. Smart, confident, and effortlessly graceful—though he did not know any of this yet. All he noticed at first was a small disturbance behind him as the exam hall filled. Her father escorted her inside, making sure she found her seat. There was something gentle in that scene, something pure—a father protecting a daughter stepping into the world. The boy saw it only from the corner of his eye, not knowing that the girl he would one day admire was right there.
He didn't even see her face. Not clearly. Not yet.
During the exam, just before the bell rang, she lightly tapped on his desk from behind. But she wasn't calling him. She was asking him to pass something to the boy sitting next to him—an eraser, a pen, maybe a ruler. He couldn't even tell. All he knew was that a soft voice had reached him from behind, and like any helpful stranger, he passed the item without thinking.
That was their first interaction.
No names.
No eye contact.
No introduction.
Just a simple request—"Can you give this to the person near you?"
But sometimes destiny hides in the smallest moments, disguised as nothing.
When the exam ended, she left quickly, walking toward the gate to wait for her father. He remained inside, packing his things, not even curious about who she might be. But then something unusual happened. As students started exiting, teachers began calling out:
"All those who scored above 90% in 12th, stand here for verification."
He stood there automatically. So did she. But still, he didn't know which student she was. The list didn't contain names, just percentages. He only heard that there was a girl with 96%. He wondered briefly who she might be, but the thought passed. Marks alone never make a face appear in the mind.
It wasn't until he stepped out of the hall that curiosity stirred inside him—like a quiet whisper.
Who was the girl who asked for help? What does she look like?
He didn't know why the thought came. Maybe it was her calm tone. Maybe the mystery of not seeing her face. Maybe fate was beginning its slow work.
As he walked out through the corridor, he saw a girl standing outside the entrance, next to his own sister. She was waiting patiently, her hands holding her admit card, her hair slightly moving in the breeze. She wasn't wearing a dupatta like many girls from the area usually did. Instead, she had a simple, neat pair of jeans and a top—nothing extraordinary, but somehow extraordinary on her.
Her posture was confident yet soft. Her beauty wasn't loud; it was silent, the kind that hits late, the kind that stays long. There was clarity in her eyes, a brightness that came from intelligence and simplicity. She looked like someone who didn't have to try to be noticed—someone who lived in her own world, doing things with sincerity, unaware that others might be looking.
He looked at her once. And then again.
And something inside him shifted.
A tiny shift.
But enough.
Only after a few seconds, he realized—
This is the girl. The same girl who asked me to pass something. The one with 96%. The one whose father came inside.
It felt strange. How could someone he interacted with for only ten seconds suddenly feel important?
He didn't speak to her.
He didn't approach her.
He didn't even smile.
He simply observed her from a distance, not in a creepy way, but in the quiet, respectful way of someone discovering a new emotion for the first time.
When her father arrived, she walked toward him with a brightness that made her seem even more alive. He watched the two of them leave—her father talking, she listening, both unaware that a boy's world had just changed behind them.
Later, while going home, he kept thinking about her. Not obsessively, but thoughtfully.
Who is she? And why did she appear in my mind again and again?
He didn't believe in "love at first sight," but something had started. Something honest. Something tender.
He also realized that his roll number came right after hers. That meant they would sit close during the next exams too. Maybe destiny had quietly arranged the seating chart.
In the days that followed, he thought about her more often. About her intelligence, her simplicity, her expression while waiting for her father. He didn't know her name, her hometown, her hobbies—nothing. Yet he felt a pull, like his heart had started walking toward someone without taking his permission.
She, on the other hand, didn't know any of this. For her, he was just another student, another stranger in a hall full of strangers. She was practical, focused on her goals, and she didn't see anything beyond friendship or small interactions. While he saw something more.
He knew it too.
He knew she saw him only as a classmate, maybe someday as a friend—nothing more.
But love, real love, does not demand equal return. Sometimes it just wants to exist quietly, respectfully, patiently.
And so, without expecting anything, he kept walking his journey—
knowing that he had come a long way,
and maybe… she was part of that long way.....