Class 10 ended.
And just like that, the world started feeling different.
Not because anything changed between us.
But because everything felt different inside me.
Khushi was still Khushi — tying her hair into a messy ponytail during exams, chewing her pen cap when she was nervous, glaring at me every time I got distracted in class.
But I started noticing… more.
The way she pushed her glasses up when they slipped down her nose.
The way her voice softened when she talked to little kids.
The way she always looked at me when something funny happened in class — like waiting for my reaction before laughing.
Something inside me was shifting.
Earlier, I used to think “crush” meant staring at some random pretty girl from another section. Laughing with friends, rating who’s hot, and messaging “Hi” to strangers on Instagram.
But that wasn’t what I felt.
I didn’t want to impress Khushi.
I wanted to tell her everything.
I didn’t want her attention for 10 seconds.
I wanted her to never look away.
I still remember the exact moment it hit me.
It was the last day of Class 10. We were all in the school ground, tossing notebooks in the air like idiots. Teachers were yelling, kids were laughing, someone was playing “Apna Time Aayega” from a speaker.
And Khushi?
She came running toward me, eyes sparkling, hair bouncing, holding her final result sheet in her hand. “96.4%!!”
She hugged me — not even thinking, just hugged me tight right there in front of everyone. For a second, the world froze.
Not because of her marks.
But because in that moment… I knew.
I knew I loved her.
I loved her for who she was when she was studying late into the night.
I loved her when she scolded me for eating too much junk.
I loved her when she defended me, teased me, pulled me back from the edge.
I loved Khushi.
And it scared me.
I spent days thinking.
Nights overthinking.
What if she doesn’t feel the same?
What if I lose her completely?
But the feeling was too big now. I couldn’t carry it alone anymore.
So, one evening, I decided.
I’d tell her.
It was raining that day — like in all the movie scenes before a confession.
I wore the new shirt Ma got me for Eid. My heart was punching my ribs. I reached her gate and called her.
“Come down, I need to talk.”
She came out holding a purple umbrella.
“Baarish mein aaya tu? Pagal hai?”
“Maybe,” I smiled nervously.
She looked confused. “Kya baat hai?”
And I said it.
Softly. Carefully. Honestly.
“Khushi… I think I love you.”
The rain got louder.
But her silence was louder than that.
She stared at me. I couldn’t read her face. No smile. No tears. Just... shock.
Then she said something I never expected.
“Ayan… I don’t feel the same.”
My heart? It didn’t break like glass. It shattered like dust.
She stepped back.
“I’m sorry. Mujhe laga hum bas ache dost hain.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even speak.
She turned and walked back into the house — and that door closing behind her?
It sounded like goodbye.
I didn’t go to her house again after that.
Didn’t text her. Didn’t call.
And just like that... for the first time since I was seven years old...
Khushi wasn’t there.
[End of Chapter 4]