I thought the online classes would pull us apart — that the bond we shared would slowly fade, leaving nothing but empty screens. But I was wrong.
The moment I saw his message, my heart did that weird, fluttery thing that makes your stomach twist and untwist at the same time. I typed quickly, almost laughing at my own excitement:
"Hey, winter break's here, so school's off.",
A ping back almost immediately.
"Yeah, I'm going to my maternal house for a bit."
"Oh, that's great! But… we won't be talking much then, right?" I added nervously, hoping it didn't sound too clingy.
He laughed — I could almost hear it through the text. "Why not? I'll have my phone with me. It's not like there's no network there — it's not some remote village."
I grinned, the weight in my chest lifting a little. Then I asked, "Oh, then when are you going?"
"Tomorrow morning," he replied. "Also, girl, stay online — I'll be messaging you. Don't reply late."
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, and I couldn't stop the small, happy laugh that slipped out. That one line — casual, confident, teasing — made everything feel lighter.
Then, because of course he had to show off a little, he added, "Oh, by the way, I'm making my own projector, you know."
I blinked at my phone. "Your own projector??" My disbelief probably jumped off the screen. I mean, how is he even this… capable?
"Yeah," he said, grinning through words. "It's actually really simple to make."
Later that night, I let him tell me everything about his village — the narrow streets, the little temple, the smell of fresh soil after rain. I hung onto every word, feeling like I was traveling with him while sitting in my messy little room.
And then, the next morning… the first thing that popped up on my screen was:
"Hey, I'm awake. Good morning."
I chuckled, tapping back almost instantly, "Good morning."
"Okay, now I'll get dressed. Will message you later."
"Uh… fine," I muttered, pretending to sound casual, but my heart was doing cartwheels.
The messages didn't stop. Shorts, reels, pictures he'd clicked on the train — he asked me which looked good, which he should post on Instagram. He wanted my opinion. And honestly… I might have blushed a little too hard.
When he finally told me he was sitting far from his mother, just to have some personal space, I couldn't help but smile. Of course he did. Somehow, even through texts, he made the world feel smaller and warmer — like he was right there, and yet the thrill of not being able to see him made it all even more… electric.
I didn't know why, but part of me also wanted to keep in touch with Shubh too. So, I picked up my phone and typed him a message after a little conversation about how we both are doing. I messaged him, trying to sound casual. "Akaay went to his maternal home, but he's still messaging me."
"He might be messaging you because he is free and has nothing to do," Shubh said..
"Messaging me… just because he's bored?" The words hit me like the floor had been ripped out from under me. My phone shook in my hands, my heartbeat skipping like a scratched record. The ground beneath me wasn't just gone — it had vanished, leaving me floating in that terrifying, exhilarating nothingness that comes when the mind and heart refuse to agree.
For a moment, I couldn't even breathe. Should I laugh? Should I cry? Should I disappear under the blanket and never come out?
And then… a tiny, stubborn part of me whispered, soft but fierce: It doesn't matter why he's messaging me… it just matters that he is.
But even as I clung to that thought, another, sharper one pierced through: What if it's all a game? What if I'm just a distraction until the boredom fades?
I stared at the screen. The cursor blinked at me. Waiting. Mocking. And in that silence, I realized that the answer wasn't comforting. It was terrifying.
Because now, I had to decide… do I trust him, or do I let myself fall anyway?
All day, I had been talking to Akaay — laughing, sharing random things, losing track of time. But Shubh's words wouldn't stop echoing in my mind.
"He might be bored, so he's messaging you."
They wrapped around me like static — irritating, sharp, impossible to shake off.
What if it was true?
What if all of this, the late-night talks, the jokes, the teasing, was just for passing the night?
By night, my chest felt too heavy to hold in anymore. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling. I could almost hear my heartbeat in my ears.
And then… I just did it.
I took a deep breath, clenched my teeth, and typed,
"Are you using me to kill your boredom? Will you leave me when you're done?"
I stared at the message, my thumb shaking over the send button. For a second, I thought of deleting it — pretending I never felt this way. But then I hit send.
And just like that… the silence after it felt louder than any scream.
The message was out.
And… there was no turning back.