they started meeting more –always in quiet places. Rooftop cafes ,bookstores ,parks in the late evening . sky never pushed , and that is what pulled her closer.
One evening , she caught him sketching again . this time , it wasn't her .
"who's that ?" she asked , sitting beside him.
"someone I dreamed about ," he said casually . "she looked like she wanted to disappear, but stayed just long enough to be remembered."
She blinked, her stomach knotting slightly.
"you always sound like that? Like you are narrating a heartbreak no one else knows about?"
Sky looked at her , then back to the page.
"only when I, m around people I could fall for."
Yalna was quiet for a moment . a slow unfamiliar warmth climbed into her chest. She hated how much that line stayed with her .
That night , when they said goodbye, she held his gaze for longer than she meant to .not a confession , just a shift in gravity .
Yalna did't believe in fairy tales, but she was starting to believe in sky and that scared her more than anything else.
It was late.
The streets were almost empty—quiet, except for the distance hum of the city trying to sleep . yalna and sky walked side by side , steps in sync , arms brushing every now and then but never quite close enough to hold .
Sky was talking about something --- probably a weird thought or some dream he had – but yalna wasn't listening .
She was too busy feeling.
The wind carried his voice . the way he always noticed when she was quiet, but never made her speak. The way she felt safe with him, and how that terrified her more than anything.
They stopped at a crossing , under a flickering streetlight. The light turned red , but neither of them moved.
"sky ," she said , voice barely above a whisper .
"can I tell you something?"
He looked at her , immediately alert, "of course."
She hesitated . her fingers curled into her sleeves. Heart packing like it didn't know the rules anymore.
"I …I think I feel something," she said.
"not just …whatever this is between us. But more. And I know I, m not supposed to. And I know it might mess everything up . but I, m tired of pretending it's just nothing."
She stared straight ahead. Not at him , not yet.
"I've tried not to . I really did. But every time I talk to you , every time you see me when no one else does … I fall a little more ,"
Silence . that awful , loud silence.
Yalna slowly turned to him. "say something or laugh or walk away .just—don't keep standing there like that .
Sky's jaw was tight .not angry. Just stunned. He finally spoke, voice careful.
"I was scared you'd say that."
Her heart dropped.
"why?" she asked, pulse in her throat.
"because if we cross the line… if I say it back… this friendship, this us, might not survive it. And I didn't want to lose you.
He took a breath. Deep . shaky.
"but maybe… maybe I feel it too." He said, stepping closer. "maybe I've felt it for a while now. Maybe I, m just better at pretending than you ."
Her breath hitched. "maybe?"
"maybe," he said with a smile. "Ahh—don't push it, "I LOVE YOU YALNA."
She laughed through her nerves, wiping the corner of her eyes with her sleeve.
And it is that moment--- under the streetlight between the confession and the maybe –they both new everything had changed .
Not with a dramatic moment. Just truth . spoken quietly enough to be real.
After that night – yalna returned to school. Life resumed , bell rang. Teachers talked. Friends gossiped . but she had changed .
She walked the halls with a softness in her steps, like her heart was carrying a secret too good to share
Every afternoon , SKY waited
Same spot, just outside the school gate. Leaning against that rusted blue railing, sketchbook in one hand, earbuds in others. He never texted "come out" .he just was there. Like gravity. Like clockwork.
"you really don't get bored of this ?" she asked one day, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
"of waiting?" he smiled. "no.it is my favourite part of the day."
She rolled her eyes. "you say that like a movie character."
"maybe I, m written that way."
She elbowed him, but couldn't hide the smile pulling at her lips
Their rituals begin
They didn't go far—sometimes just a five minute walk to nowhere. A bookstore with too many staircases. A bench near the lake. A rooftop they'd quietly claimed as their own they didn't need destinations .
Just time.
Some days she'd went about school , eyes alive with frustration.
Somedays they'd walk in silence , their hands brushing but never quite holding.
Somedays he'd read her bits of poems or lines from books he loved. She'd pretend not to care- but later, she'd search those same lines up and read them twice.
He kept sketching her.
Not always fully. Sometimes just her hands, her nose when it scrunched. The way she sat when she was thinking too hard.
"you, re obsessed," she said one afternoon , watching him sketch.
"I, m documenting," he replied "because people change. I want to remember this version of you too."
She didn't say it, but that line stayed with her all week.
Time moved, as it always does . quietly steadily
The weather warmed. The walk became shorter the laughter , though still there, came with a bit more breath between it. Because something new had crept into their world – PRESSURE