The One Who Never Text Back

The final bell rang sharper than usual.

Not because it was loud—but because it meant something was ending.

Khushi Gupta closed her eyes for a brief second as the sound echoed through the corridor, mingling with cheers, laughter, and the restless shuffling of students finally free from exams. Pens dropped. Bags zipped. Chairs scraped against the floor in messy excitement.

Final semester. Last exam. Over.

Around her, people hugged, laughed, clicked pictures, planned celebrations.

Khushi stayed seated.

Her answer sheet lay neatly in front of her, name written in careful handwriting. She stared at it without really seeing it, fingers slowly tracing the edge of the desk as if memorizing the moment.

This was it.

No more rushed mornings.No more lectures.No more excuses to see him from a distance.

Her chest tightened.

Across the room, near the first bench—his seat was empty.

It had been empty since the last thirty minutes of the exam, when he’d submitted his paper early and walked out quietly, as always.

Mr. Topper.

That’s what everyone called him.

She didn’t know when she’d started associating endings with him—but now, the two felt inseparable.

Khushi stepped out into the corridor, sunlight flooding in through the open windows. The walls were alive with voices—friends teasing each other, seniors giving last-minute advice, juniors looking relieved and terrified all at once.

Lavanya rushed toward her, eyes bright.“IT’S OVER!” she yelled, hugging Khushi tightly. “We survived!”

Khushi smiled, genuinely this time. “Barely.”

Lavanya pulled back, holding her shoulders. “So? What now? Party? Coffee? Crying session?”

Khushi laughed softly. “I think I’ll go home.”

Lavanya studied her face for a second. “You okay?”

Khushi nodded. “Just… tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. Just not the whole truth.

As they walked down the stairs, Khushi’s gaze drifted instinctively toward the notice board near the faculty room.

He used to stand there sometimes—reading circulars with that focused expression, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone.

Today, there was no one there.

Her heart sank a little, even though she had expected it.

She remembered the first time she had spoken to him.

Not a conversation.Just a sentence.

She had dropped her notebook near the library steps. Papers scattered everywhere, notes flying like startled birds.

He had knelt down beside her without a word, quietly gathering the pages, aligning them carefully before handing them back.

“You should clip these,” he had said politely.

That was it.

No smile.No prolonged eye contact.

Yet somehow… that moment stayed.

From that day on, she noticed him more.

How he never wasted time.How professors trusted him.How people respected him without him demanding it.

And how she, quietly, steadily… started waiting for glimpses of him.

The auto ride home felt longer than usual.

Khushi leaned her head against the window, watching familiar streets pass by. Shops. Signals. Vendors calling out.

Everything looked the same.

Yet something inside her felt unsettlingly final.

At home, her mother was in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly made tea filling the air.

“Exam khatam?” Garima asked, smiling.

“Yes,” Khushi replied, slipping off her sandals. “Sab theek tha.”

“Achha hai,” her mother said. “Fresh ho jao. Chai peete hain.”

Khushi nodded and went to her room.

Her room was exactly how she’d left it in the morning—bed neatly made, books stacked carefully, college bag resting against the chair.

She dropped the bag beside the bed and sat down slowly.

For a long moment, she did nothing.

Then, almost unconsciously, she reached for her phone.

Night had fallen quietly.

The house slept.

Khushi sat on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, phone glowing softly in her hands. Outside, the distant hum of traffic mixed with the chirping of insects.

She had typed the message earlier in the evening.

Saved it.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

Now, it stared back at her.

The contact name on top made her heart skip.

Mr. Topper

No profile picture.No last seen.

Just a name she had given to feelings she never dared name aloud.

She took a deep breath.

This was the last day of college.

If not now—then never.

Her fingers moved slowly, carefully.

“I don’t know if this message will make sense.”

Pause.

She erased the line.

Started again.

“Today was our last exam.”

Yes.That felt right.

She continued.

“I don’t know if you remember me properly.”

Her lips curved in a sad smile.

Of course he wouldn’t.

She was just another classmate. Another face in the crowd.

Still, she typed on.

“I’ve always wanted to say this… not because I expect anything, but because I don’t want to regret staying silent.”

Her heart pounded.

She stopped.

Closed her eyes.

Images flooded her mind—him walking out of the exam hall early, him explaining a concept to someone patiently, him standing alone during breaks.

She typed the last part.

“You mattered to me. More than you’ll ever know.”

No love.No feelings.

Just truth—wrapped safely.

She stared at the message for a full minute.

Then pressed Send.

✔️ Delivered

Two ticks appeared instantly.

Khushi’s breath caught.

She waited.

Seconds passed.Minutes followed.

Her phone screen remained silent.

She placed it face-down on the bed, heart thudding painfully.

You knew this could happen, she told herself.

Still… hope was cruel.

She checked again.

Nothing.

She checked again.

Still nothing.

At 2:13 AM, her eyes burned.

At 3:01 AM, her phone battery dipped below 20%.

At 3:47 AM, realization settled in slowly, heavily.

He wasn’t going to reply.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

Khushi turned to her side, clutching the pillow, blinking back tears she refused to let fall.

This wasn’t rejection.

It was worse.

It was silence.

Sunlight crept into her room mercilessly.

Khushi woke with a dull ache behind her eyes.

Her first instinct was to grab her phone.

No new messages.

The chat remained exactly as she’d left it.

Unread.

She sat up slowly.

So this was how it felt—to carry something alone even after letting it go.

Downstairs, life continued.

Breakfast. News. Normalcy.

Khushi dressed quietly, her movements automatic.

She looked at herself in the mirror before leaving.

Same girl.Same face.

Just… a heavier heart.

And somewhere, without her knowing—

A story had begun with a message that would change everything.

To be continued......