I Knew You Would Leave, Yet I Stayed

Today was my first day at a new school. Our classroom was being arranged with benches, and I stood in the corner, watching everyone talk and laugh as if they had known each other forever. I wished I could do the same, but trusting people had never been easy for me.

Just then, a boy came up to me and asked, “Why are you standing here all alone?”

“I don’t know anyone,” I replied.

“Then talk to someone. That’s how you make friends,” he said with a gentle smile. “Why don’t you be friends with me?”

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. I looked at him and said, “I don’t make friends. I don’t trust people anymore.”

He looked at me and replied, “Then give me one chance,” he said. “You don't have to trust me today. Just let me prove that not everyone is the same"

His words made me pause.

Maybe it was his calm voice. Maybe it was the sincerity in his eyes. Or maybe I was simply tired of standing alone.

I hesitated before slowly reaching out my hand.

He took it with a smile.

It was just a handshake. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing that seemed important enough to remember.

But I didn't know it

Chapter 2 : The Things We Never Tell Anyone

Slowly, things began to change between us.

We started talking more, sitting together during breaks, and sharing little pieces of our lives that we usually kept hidden from everyone else. Without even realizing it, we had started becoming an important part of each other's days.

But I had a bad habit.

I trusted people too easily.

The moment someone made me feel comfortable, I would open up to them. I would tell them about myself, my feelings, my past—things I probably should have kept to myself.

Maybe that was my problem.

Maybe I gave people too much of myself before knowing whether they even planned to stay.

And perhaps that was why, one by one, people always seemed to leave.

But with him, things felt different. At least, that's what I believed back then.

Our friendship grew stronger with every passing day. Soon, we became the kind of friends who could talk about almost anything without feeling awkward.

He started telling me about himself, too.

He had a terrible temper and an attitude that sometimes made me wonder how anyone could tolerate him. He could get angry over the smallest things, and once he was upset, convincing him to calm down was almost impossible.

But despite all that, he was adorable.

The kind of adorable that made you want to pull him into a hug without giving him a chance to complain.

Of course, his anger had a way of ruining even the nicest things.

He once told me about a friend from his previous school. She used to get upset with him because he never tried to make things right whenever they argued. He wasn't the kind of boy who would chase someone just to convince them to stop being angry with him.

And eventually, their friendship fell apart.

He left that school and came here.

To the same school where he met me.

Funny how life works, isn't it? Sometimes, one goodbye becomes the reason two strangers end up meeting.

One day, while we were sitting together, he turned towards me.

"You know so much about me," he said. "But you never really tell me about yourself. What about you?"

I looked at him for a moment.

Then, I smiled faintly.

"Where do I even begin?"

"Anywhere," he replied. "I'm listening.

And so, I began.

"When I was in fourth grade, I used to live with my maternal grandmother. I went to school in her village because that's where I was staying at the time. There weren't many private schools there, and the ones that existed were quite small."

I paused for a moment, trying to remember those days.

"Honestly, my first day at that school wasn't good at all. I remember feeling uncomfortable and out of place. But eventually, I made a friend, and things slowly started getting better."

"Then?" he asked, listening carefully.

"Then, I started enjoying myself. We played together, laughed over silly things, and made memories without even realizing how special those days would become later."

I smiled as the memories came back to me.

"Before I knew it, I was in sixth grade. My friend's brother was in seventh grade, and we all used to sit together. I think I might have liked him a little back then."

I lowered my eyes, remembering how innocent everything had felt.

"We used to talk a lot. Saturdays were my favourite because we didn't have regular classes. We would spend so much time playing games and laughing. Those were such simple days, but somehow, they were some of the happiest."

"And what about your teachers?" he asked.

I immediately laughed.

"Oh, don't even get me started on our science teacher!"

He raised an eyebrow. "What did he do?"

"He was annoying, but funny, too. His class was supposed to be after lunch, but that man would show up halfway through our lunch break just to start teaching us. Imagine not even being allowed to enjoy your lunch in peace!"

He laughed, and I continued.

"One day, my friend and I saw him sitting alone in an empty classroom, scrolling through his phone. We thought it would be funny to tell him not to come to our class just yet."

I shook my head, already regretting what I was about to confess.

"So, we went up to him, pointed a finger at him, and said, 'Sir, don't come to our class right now!"

He stared at me for a second.

Then he burst out laughing.

"Wait. You actually said that to your teacher?"

"Yes!" I protested, laughing, too. "And trust me, that wasn't even the worst part."

"What happened next?"

"Our teacher got furious. He called the principal, and we ended up getting punished."

I sighed dramatically.

"But do you know what made everything worse?"

"What?"

"The principal knew my grandmother very well."

He started laughing again.

"And that's how I got myself into the biggest trouble of my life—or at least, that's how it felt to my fourth-grade self."

I laughed along with him.

For a moment, I forgot about everything else. We were just two friends, sitting together, sharing stories and laughing about the people we used to be.

And I didn't know it then, but I would remember moments like these long after they had passed.

Because sometimes, the memories that seem the smallest while we're living them are the ones we wish we could return to the most.