10 Months Of Yesterday

Genre:Romance, Psychological, Slice of Life, Dream/Reality blur 

Plot Summary:A lonely, emotionally distant boy drifts through life believing that every friendship fades. One night, he dreams of a girl — mature, calm, quietly confident. The dream feels too real… and itlasts months.In that world, they meet at school, talk, argue, laugh — she helps him open up. For the first time, he feelsalive.

He learns tobreathewhen she’s around. His walls start to fall. But just as he’s about to confess — the dream ends. He wakes up, heart racing, drenched in sweat… realizing he’s back in reality. But something’s different. He’s not the same boy anymore. He’s carryingher lessons, even if she never existed.

“It felt like a chunk taken away from my life… yet it didn’t feel like a void.” - The one who dreamed of it.

*Setting:Summer, start of high school

MC:You (introverted, quiet, studies in class)Close friends:Azad (same hobbies), Abhinav, RohanHer:Elara, the new girl, whose warmth creeps into your life slowlyStory begins in the summer... I was fresh into highschool... the few days pass by as normal.. I introduce myself and my friend- Azad, Abhinav and Rohan- out of which Azad and Abhinav were the closest to my hears and Azad the closest to my hobbies. Me and Azad used to sit together at the last seat- but he didn’t come to school that day... so the seat beside me was empty- that’s when the teacher introduces the new girl, ... Since I was the only guy in the class who had all the work done (I only studied in class ngl), she told Girl A to sit next to me... that whole time I hadn’t even seen her face clearly (I couldn’t even look anyone in the eyes for more than 3 seconds.)... so as she came to sit next to me while I slowly slide my ass to the corner of the bench until half of my ass was in the air and half on the bench... she quietly sat down (and I felt like she side eyed me for a moment)... during the first class which was of english... our madam dictated answers very quickly and I was also a quick writer.. so as I was writing I noticed her lagging behind (well it was just caught at one side of my eye) so I slowly slide my notebook towards her so that she can see it properly.. while I was still on one side of the bench while stretching my hand to write stuff down. Lunch Break

The bell rang, and before the echo could fade, every girl in class had already circled around Elara — like moths drawn to a new flame. Laughter, questions, and giggles filled the room.

Me? I slipped out quietly, lunchbox in hand.Not because I didn’t care — but because crowds always felt like noise to me.

The “bunkers” — that’s what we called the boys’ washroom — were my refuge. Not glamorous, not even quiet, but it wasaway, where the summer breeze somehow cut through the smell of disinfectant.

From my bag, I pulled out my sketchbook. Half-drawn figures, faces that didn’t exist.

Lately, I had been obsessed with drawing women — their eyes, the tilt of a head, the way hair fell across the shoulder. I told myself it was about anatomy. But maybe… I just wanted to understand what I couldn’t talk to. The Second Bell

The lunch bell rang again, echoing down the corridor.I waited an extra minute before stepping out — just enough time for everyone to settle back in.The hallway smelled faintly of chalk and mango bars from the canteen.

As I turned the corner, I saw our English teacher walking in from the other side, files tucked under her arm.I quickened my pace, trying not to draw attention — last thing I needed was her catching me wandering.

When I entered the class, most of the seats were already filled again. The last bench — mine — was still the same.And she was still sitting there.

Elara hadn’t changed her seat.The other girls had all regrouped with their own circles, and somehow… she hadn’t joined them.

I slipped back into my place — half on, half off the bench again, trying to take up the least space possible.

For a second, I wondered —Was she waiting? Did she think I felt bad? Or maybe every other seat was full?

The memory’s blurry now, like an old photo left in sunlight.But I think… she smiled when I sat down.

Or maybe it was just my imagination trying to be kind.

The Chalk and the “Tuth”

I came early, like always.There was something peaceful about empty classrooms — the smell of chalk dust and wooden desks, the quiet hum of ceiling fans warming up.

I dropped my bag on the last bench and walked to the board with a piece of chalk.It was my job to ready it for the day — date, subject, the quote.

Like every morning, I wrote the words I’d seen on every board since childhood:“Tuth is God.”

Yeah.Tuth.Not Truth. I’d been writing it that way for years.It had become more of a ritual than a spelling mistake.

As I was scribbling the date in the corner, I heard soft footsteps — light, steady.

I turned around, expecting a teacher maybe —but it washer.

Elara.

She smiled faintly. “Good morning.”

I swallowed, trying to make my voice sound normal.“Same to you.”

She put her bag down and glanced at the board.Then, she giggled.Not mockingly — just… like sunlight catching glass.

Before I could say anything, she walked up, took the chalk from my hand, erased the ‘T,’ and rewrote it:“Truth is God.”

Her handwriting was neat, round — beautiful in that simple, confident way.

“You wrote it wrong,” she said, still smiling.

I froze. Didn’t even know what to say.My throat locked up, my brain started buffering, and I could practicallyhearmy heartbeat.

And just when I was about to say something dumb — the classroom door slid open.

Voices. Laughter. People.

In our school, being seen alone with a girl meant only one thing — gossip.So, without thinking, I took three steps back.Then five. Then grabbed my bag and pretended to be looking for something important.

She didn’t say anything — just turned back to her desk, still smiling faintly.

And me?I escaped. Straight to the washroom.Did my business. Washed my face.Then took the long way around the school, waiting for Azad to show up.

When he did, I started talking about random stuff — the weather, homework, anything.Anything to drown out the echo of her laugh that still refused to leave my head.

Shifts

Azad came late that day, his usual lazy smile in place.He threw his bag onto the bench in front of mine and leaned over.

“Yeah, you’re sitting with someone new now,” he said, his voice teasing but soft. “Maybe you’ll forget your friends ’cause of how beautiful she is.”

I laughed, trying to hide the weird flutter in my chest.“Forget you? Nah bro, you’re my best friend — the only guy I talk to so freely.”

He was about to say something, but then stopped mid-breath. His expression changed — thoughtful, almost distant.“Can I sit on the table in front of you?” he asked after a pause.

“Yeah, why not?” I shrugged, not thinking much of it.

He nodded and moved his bag, leaving the seat beside me open again.I walked back slowly, pretending to adjust my sleeves even though I knew exactly what I was doing — buying myself time.

When I reached the bench, she was there — head bent slightly, one hand resting against her neck as she read through her notes. The sunlight from the window caught her hair, and for some reason, I noticed that more than the words on her page.

When she saw me, she shifted — just a little. Moved toward the corner of the bench, the side I usually left open.

Did she… notice? The way I always sat half out, like I was afraid to take up space?

I hesitated for a moment. Then sat down — this timecompletely insidethe bench’s edge.For once, I didn’t need to hide in corners.

“Tuth”

Next morning, same routine.Empty classroom. Chalk dust. Quiet.

I stood before the board again, this time careful — deliberate — as I wrote out the words:“Truth is God.”Spelled right. Finally.

I was halfway through underlining it when I heard footsteps again — light, familiar.I didn’t even need to turn around.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“Same to you,” I replied, voice steadier than yesterday.

She walked up beside me, not saying anything at first. Then, she picked up another piece of chalk and leaned forward to write the date on the top-right corner of the board.

And just as she finished, she whispered, almost like a secret only the two of us shared—

“Tuth.”

Then she giggled. Quiet, musical.

I froze again.My brain went blank, the way it always did when words tried to climb out but fell somewhere halfway up my throat.

Before I could even think of something to say, she had already walked back to her seat, still smiling to herself.

A few classmates entered just then, chatting loudly, breaking the fragile stillness that hung between us.

This time, I didn’t run.I put the chalk down carefully, dusting my fingers on my uniform pants, and went back to my seat.

Elara was flipping through her notebook, pretending not to notice.I took out my Hindi copy, opened it to a half-finished page, and started writing — not because I needed to, but because for once, I wanted tostay.

It was still morning — maybe half an hour before assembly. The air was cold, the sunlight still weak and yellow, slipping through the classroom grills.

Azad had come early that day — rare, but not impossible.I had gone to the washroom, leaving my bag half-unzipped on the last bench.

When I came back, I stopped right at the doorway.

He was standing there — my best friend — flipping open theArt File.Myart file.

The sound of turning pages echoed louder than it should have.

Elara was sitting right there — two benches away — reading from a book. But when Azad flipped to a page filled with sketches of bodies — the unfinished outlines of torsos, the faint pencil frames of thighs and shoulders — her eyes lifted.

I saw the exact moment she noticed.Her eyebrows twitched upward. Just slightly. Not disgust. Not shock.Just... a pause. Like she’d stumbled upon something she wasn’t supposed to see.

Azad laughed under his breath, nudging one of the drawings like he’d just uncovered a secret joke.I froze in the doorway — couldn’t even move, couldn’t even breathe.

The whole classroom felt smaller.The walls, the desks, the air — everything shrinking, pressing in.

She didn’t say anything.Didn’t smile. Didn’t frown.Just… quietly turned back to her book.

And in that silence, I think I understood whatexposedreally means.

-“You’re Not as Innocent as You Look”

When the ice in my muscles finally cracked, Ibolted.Grabbed the file from Azad’s hands so fast the paper almost tore.

“Bro, chill—” he started, but I didn’t hear the rest.I shoved the file into my bag like I was hiding evidence.

And of course — the moment Ileastwanted anyone to see me, the teacher walked in.“Everyone, take your seats.”

Perfect timing. Just perfect.

I dropped into my chair, chest still tight. My hand wouldn’t stop trembling, so I wrapped my arm around my bag — hugging it, hiding it, maybe hidingme.

The world was spinning between my heartbeat and the chalk scratching on the board.

Then she leaned slightly closer.Close enough that her voice slid through the air, quiet but sharp enough to cut through the noise.

“You’re not as innocent as you look, hmm?”

I froze again.Her tone wasn’t mocking — it was teasing, curious even.

“That’s good… I was starting to think you might still be a 6th-class kid.”

She smiled faintly — not cruel, just… knowing.Then turned her attention back to her notebook like nothing happened.

And me?I think my soul left my body for a solid thirty seconds.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, hide, or just disappear through the floor.But one thing was certain — after that, the air between uswasn’t the same.

“Same Road”

My soul snapped back into my body when the teacher jump-scared me with—

“You! Read the next paragraph.”

I stumbled on the very first word.The class giggled. My throat felt like sandpaper.

But then I took a deep breath… and read it right.Didn’t sound confident, didn’t sound smart — but at least I didn’t die of embarrassment mid-sentence.

That day, we didn’t talk much.We rarely did, honestly.But… she was smiling more than usual.Maybe she was just having a good day. Or maybe she’d found something funny in how much I panicked earlier.Either way, her smile stuck with me.

After school, the bell rang like freedom.

I grabbed my cycle from the parking lot — the metal already hot from the sun — and started heading out. Rohan’s bike had a puncture, so he was perched behind me, doing his usual “sports commentator voice” while I pedaled like a madman.

Then I saw her.

Elara.On her own cycle, a few meters ahead, her bag hanging slightly to one side, her braid swinging with every pedal.Heading down the same road.The same road.

I slowed down for a second.“Wait… she lives in Area A too?”

Rohan’s voice brought me back — “Bro, overtake that red cycle! Go go go!”

I laughed, half out of breath, half out of nerves.Pushed the pedal harder.As we passed, I couldn’t tell if she saw me — but for some reason, my chest felt lighter.

Maybe it was just the wind.Or maybe… something else.

“The Wind and the Net”

The next few weeks rolled by like pages in a notebook.Every day after school, I’d see her on her bicycle — always on that same stretch of road, the one that led back toArea A.Sometimes she was ahead, sometimes behind, sometimes crossing just as I turned the corner.We never spoke, but the air between us felt… familiar.

Then came the next month.

During our sports period, Azad and I sat under the big old tree beside the badminton court. The concrete base around it had become our sketching spot — quiet, shaded, safe from noise.I was staring at my blank page, pencil idle, while Azad doodled something random.

On the court, Elara and another girl from our class were playing doubles against two boys.A few minutes later, someone from the football ground shouted that they were short two players, so the boys dropped their rackets and ran off.

The girl Elara was playing with sighed, turned toward us, and said,

“Hey, you two wanna join? We need players.”

Azad, being Azad, grinned.

“Yeah, we’re not doing anything anyway.”

I didn’t even get to answer.If Azad said yes, it meantwesaid yes.

So we joined.

At first, it was fun — clumsy rallies, laughs, Azad doing trick shots and missing half of them. But soon enough, the volleyball team called for the girl, and someone from basketball came running, asking Azad to fill in for a missing player.

I told him to go.So he did.

And suddenly — it was just me and Elara.

The wind had started to pick up, carrying dust and that faint smell of wet leaves.I stood on one end of the net, gripping the racket like it was a sword I didn’t know how to use.

I tried to serve first.Terrible move. The shuttle wobbled midair and dropped like a dying bird.

Elara giggled — not mockingly, but lightly, the kind of laugh that makes you laugh too even when you’re embarrassed.She came closer, holding out her hand.

“Let me serve.”

I nodded, pretending to stretch but really just buying time to breathe.

She served high — the shuttle cutting through the air — I somehow hit it back.But then the wind decided to join the match.

It caught the shuttle mid-flight, twisted it around, and the thingboomerangedright into my forehead.

Thwack.

She burst out laughing — loud, pure, uncontrollable.And I just stood there, rubbing my forehead and trying not to smile.

Then karma hit back.Next serve, she hit it up… and the wind turned it right around again.Thwack.Right into her own forehead.

This time, I laughed.Loudly. Freely.

And she laughed harder.

We stood there — two idiots on opposite sides of the net — laughing like the world didn’t exist.Every time one of us tried to stop, the other’s laugh would start again, and we’d fall right back into it.

For a few minutes, it really did feel like the whole school disappeared.Like there was just her, me, and the sound of our laughter tangled in the wind.

“The Gravity Between Us”

I don’t remember when the laughter stopped that day.Maybe it didn’t.

Because even the next morning — when the physics teacher started talking about gravity — she and I caught each other’s eyes for just a second.And we bothsnorted.Quietly, but loud enough to almost get caught.

“Is something funny?”The teacher’s voice sliced through the silence.We both froze.

“No, ma’am,” she said first, her tone calm but her eyes still sparkling.I bit the inside of my cheek to stop smiling.

That was the day I realized how easily she could pull me out of my shell — without even trying.

After that, things… shifted.We talked more — not much, but enough to break the awkward silence that used to sit between us.I don’t rememberwhatwe talked about, onlyhowit felt.

It was easy.Natural.Warm.

At home, I found myself replaying those tiny conversations in my head — her words, her expressions, her tone.Even the little pauses between sentences.

Sometimes I’d be watching my favorite YouTuber live, but halfway through a joke I’d zone out — not because I was bored, but because my mind had drifted back to her.Her laugh.Her eyes when she talked about something she liked.

She was more talkative than I thought — when the topic was right, she’d go on and on, and I’d just listen.Didn’t even care what the topic was.

I didn’t want anything from her — not her hand, not a confession, not even a promise.Her presence alone felt… enough.

And before I even realized it —the walk to school,the long classes,the same dull corridors —they all started to feel brighter.

Because she was there.

“The Walk”

It was late afternoon — the kind of heat that sticks to your skin but softens with the wind.School had just ended, and I was cycling home with my friends — Azad, Abhinav, and Rohan — all of them talking over one another.

We reached the main road and turned toward Area A.That’s when I saw her.

Elara.Walking her cycle along the side of the road, her hand resting on the handle, her braid swaying slightly with each step.The front tire was flat.

My heart did that stupid jump thing.

Without thinking too much, I said to the guys,

“Crap—forgot my bottle back in class.”

They groaned, didn’t question it, and rode off ahead.As soon as they turned the corner, I slowed, then turned my cycle around.

Waited a bit.Then quietly followed the same path she was walking.

“We go the same way,” I said, trying to sound casual, “mind if I join in?”

She didn’t look straight at me. Just glanced down and smiled — that small, soft kind of smile that makes you forget the noise around you.Then she slowed her pace, letting me walk beside her.

For a few seconds, everything felt right.Peaceful, almost cinematic.

Then — the worst timing possible.A bunch of classmates — the loud ones — came cycling from behind, laughing, shouting, the kind who never miss a chance to start rumors.

Instinct hit before thought.I stepped back, crouched a little, pretending to tie my shoelace — half hiding my face, half dying inside.

The group passed by, none of them noticing.When their voices faded into the distance, I stood up again and caught up to her.

She didn’t say anything. Just a quiet,

“Hmm.”

But the way she said it — it wasn’t cold.It wasn’t awkward either.It was… comfortable.

So we kept walking.No big words. No forced smiles.Just two quiet kids on the same road,sharing the silence like it was enough.

End of Part 1. (25% of the story.)