1.Coincidence
Again, in the corridor, he comes toward me. He passes without looking, and I smile inside my heart at the fact that for one more day, I have the chance to look at him, admire him, and grow the love I have for him.
Hi, I’m Kash. I’m a simple girl with simple wants, and currently, I am in Class 9.
I arrived in class to find Preeti sitting in Row two, Bench four. Preeti is my childhood friend; she knows everything about me. When I say everything, that means everything.
"Hey, hi! Don’t say you don’t know about the science test," she said as I sat down.
"What? Test?"
"I texted you about that, Kash!"
"Sorry, I didn't check. What do I do now?"
She poked me in the belly and signaled me to look at the door. And here he comes: Krish. He is the reason I come to school on time every day. You might notice we share the same initial, "K"—it is the one and only thing we share, and I am so proud of that.
He walks like a prince with pride. When he enters, he holds my eyes; they never blink, fearing that if I look away for a second, he might disappear. He isn't an attention seeker; he goes directly to his bench and softly greets his friends. I often wonder... what if I were one of those friends?
I look at him, but he doesn't look back. He has a tall stature with broad shoulders and deep eyes you could fall into. His lips have a dark tone, hiding white, shining teeth; whenever he smiles, he looks even more beautiful. He walks carefully, as if he doesn't want to hurt the ground. He isn't a typical "famous" boy; he just exists -for me. He has a shy nature, not very loud or talkative, and is good at his studies. He sits in Row one, Bench two, where I can see him clearly all day.
Teacher arrived in class. "Open your books, students," she said.
"I know we have a test today. Get your things ready."
She began writing on the blackboard, and I had no idea what it was. Preeti was writing her test, and every other student was doing the same. I started pretending to write, trying to recall something from the lectures, but it wasn't enough.
"Everybody, stop writing!"
I stopped, though I had barely started.
"The results will be announced tomorrow," she continued, "and this time, students with lower marks will be punished."
"Preeti, I will definitely be punished tomorrow," I whispered
"I only wrote two questions out of twenty."
"It’s okay, you aren't the only one," Preeti replied. Then she paused.
"By the way, what about Krish? Why does he seem so sad today?"
"You noticed too? I am also thinking about that. Please try asking someone."
"Okay, don't worry. I will try."
I looked at him. He had his head down on the bench. His friends seemed worried. Preeti went over and came back to the bench. "His father is in the hospital," she said softly.
I felt a pang of sorrow. suddenly,
A crowd gathered around his bench. Preeti held my arm and dragged me over. I stood at the back, finding a spot where I could see his face properly. Everyone was asking about his father’s condition, and he was answering in only a few words. His eyes were filled with tears; he looked like a wilted flower. No, I couldn’t see him like that. I felt a tear on my own cheek.
Everyone was consoling him, touching his hands one by one. As the students in front of me moved away, I was exposed. I stood there, comforting him with my eyes. I wanted to have him in my arms, to give him the warmth of my chest, to let him know I was there for him. I wanted to wipe his tears with my bare hands, touch his face, and kiss his forehead. But no, I couldn't.
Preeti held his hand and told him not to worry, that his father would be all right. Then, she dragged me back to our bench because she knew I couldn't bring myself to touch him. I couldn't reveal myself; I couldn't tell him the feelings I have for him. I wondered if, by touching him today, the world might collapse. If I took his hand, I might never leave it. He might know the touch was not just sincere—he might know..
The next day, I didn't see him in the corridor. Preeti told me later that he isn't coming today,As his father is not well. I know he will not come but my eyes waited the whole day.In the classroom, Row one, Bench two was empty. I stared at that empty seat all day. "As a bird in dark waiting for the sunshine ".The science teacher punished me today, but her voice was like the distant buzz of a fly—annoying, but unimportant. Her lecture made no sense to me. I forgot I was even living; the noises of the classroom were undisturbing and hollow. The only thing that was real was his absence.
Preeti told me the hospital where his father was admitted. I asked her to go with me; I knew she would never say no. I reached the hospital by cab and put on a face mask. I didn't want him to know I had come to see him.
As I entered the hospital, the rush in my heart increased. Every other person there seemed sad to me, and I felt as though they could see right through me—as if they knew the heavy feeling I was carrying. I felt I couldn't hide the tension in my heart anymore; I feared I might be exposed today.
I searched corridor after corridor. As I passed Corridor 3, my feet stopped.
He was there, sitting on a chair, looking at the door in front of him. He looked sad and pale. I knew in my heart he hadn't eaten anything today. A lady—his mother, I think—was walking nearby.
Sometime later, the door opened and a doctor came out. They seemed happy as the doctor spoke, and the lady hugged Krish. She entered the room, and he looked through the window, looking relaxed at last. Suddenly, he turned his head toward me. I hid myself, forgetting for a moment that I was wearing a mask. I peeped again into the corridor, but he was gone.
I returned home. In the hall, my mother was waiting for me. She is very strict, but caring at the same time—she always keeps me in check. My greatest fear is having my feelings exposed in front of her. She is completely against the idea of love at my age; she finds it a waste of time, a distraction.
That is one of the main reasons I hide myself from him. I don't want him to be affected by my mother in any sense. I want to hide him from her; I want to hide that purest feeling in a corner of my heart where nobody can reach, where no one can affect it—not even me.
I lay on my bed, praying to God to keep him happy and away from all sorrows. Please, give me all his sorrows, I can’t see him like that. Protect him from every pain.
One day, I hope I can tell him how much I love him, how much I care. I hope I can hold him closer than my own breath. But for now… I can’t. I can’t even hold his hands.
