It all began back in seventh grade. I had just transferred to a new school where most of the students had been together since nursery. Naturally, I was the outsider, the “new boy.” Determined to make my mark, I worked hard, got good grades, and quickly earned a reputation. There was this girl already hailed as the best student in class. We didn’t interact much, but there was always a quiet, almost unspoken competition between us.
Fast forward to eleventh grade, and that’s when the pandemic hit. Life shifted online, and by sheer coincidence, she and I ended up in the same section for the first time. Initially, our conversations were purely academic-just schoolwork and exchanging notes. But as isolation sank its teeth into us, those casual chats turned into longer, deeper conversations. Every free moment from our hectic study routines was spent texting each other-not just about studies, but about life, fears, dreams, and our uncertain futures.
We grew close, closer than I’d ever been with anyone. She became the one person I could confide in, and I became her rock. We helped each other, shared every little detail of our lives-whether it was an interesting meal, how our day went, or our opinions on trivial things. Over time, her family started noticing me. Her parents even recognized my name. It felt as if I had become an honorary member of her household, at least in spirit.
Every day started and ended with her. If I missed our usual morning text, she’d message at night, asking where I had been all day. It was like we lived in each other’s thoughts. Then came the board exams. We both aced them, securing similar ranks in the state, but the real challenge was the entrance exams for the country’s best STEM institutes. We cleared the national and state screenings, but while I was content with my rank, she wasn’t. Her sky-high expectations left her shattered by her results.
That’s when she withdrew from everyone, including me. But I didn’t give up. I messaged her every single day, sometimes with nothing more than a simple “Are you okay?” Slowly, she began to respond. Over time, she managed to pull herself together and secured a spot in one of the country’s top institutes. I was overjoyed for her, feeling like her triumph was also mine. But amidst her highs, I hit my lows. I sat for another entrance exam and convinced myself I had failed. The anxiety consumed me, and as I battled my insecurities, I realized my feelings for her had grown deeper than friendship. One night, I confessed over text.
She didn’t feel the same. Her rejection was kind but firm. She didn’t want to risk our friendship. And while we tried to move past it, an unshakable awkwardness crept into our bond. Around the same time, I found out I had actually qualified for one of the top engineering institutes. It should have been a moment of pure joy, but instead, I felt hollow.
She got busy with her new college life, and our conversations dwindled. I couldn’t help but feel hurt. After everything we’d been through, after all the support I’d given her, she seemed absent when I needed her the most. Those weeks were among the hardest of my life.
Even after joining my own college, the hardships didn’t stop. I lost both my grandparents within weeks of each other and had a serious accident shortly after. My grades were exceptional, and I secured a prestigious field, but my mental health was in ruins. I was completely alone, trying to piece myself together.
But I kept pushing forward, just as I had during those months with her. Even now, I think about her every single day. She was my anchor during the stormiest part of my life, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. But she’s more than a memory to me-she’s an ideal, an inspiration. Sometimes, she feels unattainable, almost divine, like a Goddess who blessed my life for a fleeting moment.
We still exchange texts occasionally, and we even meet during vacations when both of us are home. But there’s an undeniable distance now, a chasm neither of us can bridge. Yet, every conversation reignites that faint hope in me-maybe one day, she’ll see me the way I see her.
I often wonder how life would have unfolded if she’d said “yes” that night. How one word could have rewritten both our stories. Instead, here I am, carrying this quiet, unspoken love-a love that’s as painful as it is beautiful.