Days passed.
But for Mukesh…
nothing really changed.
The fear inside him was still there.
The silence around him was still the same.
---
Except for one thing.
Smriti.
---
At first, it was nothing.
Just small conversations.
Short moments.
Random questions.
---
But slowly…
she started sitting beside him.
Every day.
---
One afternoon, during lunch break, Smriti looked at his notebook.
"You still can't read properly, right?"
Mukesh didn't respond.
---
She didn't wait for an answer.
Instead, she took his book.
"Look," she said, pointing at a word.
"This says 'book'."
Then she pointed at another.
"This is 'pen'."
---
Mukesh watched quietly.
His eyes followed her finger.
His mind tried to keep up.
---
"Say it," she said.
"…Book."
His voice was low.
Almost like a whisper.
---
Smriti smiled slightly.
"Good. Again."
---
That's how it started.
---
Simple words.
Common words.
Small steps.
---
Day by day…
she kept teaching him.
Without forcing.
Without judging.
---
And for the first time…
learning didn't feel like pain.
---
But school wasn't always kind.
---
One day, Mukesh made a mistake in class.
A small mistake.
But enough.
---
He was punished.
Sent to the washroom area.
Made to stand there.
Alone.
---
After some time, a teacher came.
Without saying much—
a stick hit his hand.
Once.
Then again.
---
Mukesh didn't react.
Didn't cry.
Didn't speak.
---
He just stood there.
Silent.
Like always.
---
Later that day, back in class—
he quietly sat down.
His hands resting on the desk.
---
Smriti noticed.
Something felt off.
---
Without saying anything,
she slowly moved her hand closer.
Carefully.
So that he wouldn't notice.
---
Her eyes focused on his fingers.
There were marks.
Faint.
But visible.
---
She gently observed his hand.
Checking…
without letting him realize.
---
"…Idiot," she muttered softly.
But her voice carried something else.
Something unspoken.
---
Mukesh didn't notice.
Or maybe…
he pretended not to.
---
After school—
they didn't go home immediately.
---
Instead…
they walked through the small market near the village.
---
It became a habit.
---
Sometimes they talked.
Sometimes they didn't.
---
"Why do you stay so quiet?" Smriti asked one day.
Mukesh shrugged.
"I don't know."
---
"Or you just don't want to talk?"
"…Maybe."
---
She looked at him.
"You're weird."
---
Mukesh replied without looking at her,
"I know."
---
Another day—
they stopped near a small shop.
Smriti picked up something and said,
"Read this."
---
Mukesh hesitated.
Then tried.
Slowly.
Carefully.
---
He got it right.
---
Smriti smiled.
"See? You're not dumb."
---
Mukesh stayed silent.
But something inside him…
shifted.
---
For the first time—
someone wasn't laughing at him.
Someone wasn't hitting him.
Someone wasn't calling him useless.
---
Someone was…
staying.
---
Days turned into weeks.
---
The fear inside him didn't disappear.
But it started fading.
Just a little.
---
And in its place…
something new began to grow.
---
Something quiet.
Something confusing.
Something he didn't understand.
---
One evening, as they walked back from the market—
the sky was slowly turning orange.
The mountains stood silent around them.
---
Mukesh looked at Smriti for a moment.
Then quickly looked away.
---
His heartbeat felt… different.
---
He didn't know what it was.
Didn't try to understand.
---
But one thing was certain.
---
He was changing.
---
And without realizing it—
Mukesh was slowly starting to like her.
---
Not love.
Not yet.
---
Just…
something that felt like the beginning of it.
---
Something that might never be said.
---
Something that might remain—
one-sided.