Place: New Delhi, India
Time: Winter Morning, 8:25 AM
Raj sat quietly in his classroom, staring out the window as the teacher's voice became background noise. The world outside looked cold, still, and… distant. Just like his feelings for her.
Anamika.
She wasn't in his class.
She wasn't even in his school.
But she was in his mind—every single day.
They had met only a few times—at a coaching center last summer. She had a soft voice, half-tied hair, and a smile that could stop Raj's world. But since that coaching ended, she was just a memory… until today.
As the bell rang and the class emptied, Raj packed his bag absentmindedly. But something fell out of his notebook—
A small folded paper.
Confused, he picked it up.
No name. Just one line written in neat handwriting:
> "If you really want to know what's true… meet me at the old parking lot. 4:00 PM."
His heart skipped a beat.
Was this a prank?
Or something serious?
Either way, his gut told him—go.
📍 4:12 PM — Old Parking Lot, near the city mall
The place was mostly empty. Broken fences, cracked tiles, and silence.
Raj looked around. No sign of anyone.
Until he heard it.
A scream.
Faint, but definitely real.
He ran toward the sound—behind a half-broken wall.
There she was.
Anamika.
Cornered by three guys, trying to fight them off.
Raj didn't even think.
He grabbed his phone and called the police.
Then he jumped in.
"Leave her alone! Police are on their way!" he shouted.
One of the boys turned, sneering. "Hero banega?"
He pulled out a knife.
Raj froze for a second—but stood his ground.
Before things could go worse—
SIRENS.
Police arrived just in time. The boys tried to run but were caught.
Anamika, breathing heavily, looked at Raj. Her eyes glistened with fear, relief, and a thousand emotions.
"Thank you, Raj…" she whispered.
He smiled slightly, brushing dirt off his jeans.
"My pleasure. Friends help each other, right?"
She blinked. "We're… friends?"
Raj extended his hand. "Only if you say yes."
She laughed softly, tears still clinging to her lashes.
"Then yes. Friends."
She scribbled something on his palm—her number and Instagram ID.
And walked away… but something had begun.
Something more than friendship.
📱 That Night
They started texting. Slowly.
One message a day. Then two. Then hours of conversations.
From songs, silly memes, to sharing secrets… they started feeling close.
But neither said it.
Not yet.