The days that followed weren't special on the outside—class, homework, teachers droning like malfunctioning robots—but inside me? Total chaos. My feelings for Rayan didn't fade. They unpacked their bags, decorated the place, and started living rent-free in my chest. Every time he entered class, laughed, or breathed in my general direction, I could feel myself crumbling like a cookie left in milk too long.
Apparently, "secretly crushing" has symptoms. Serious symptoms.
Because I was acting weird.
Staring at the door like a lonely puppy? Not subtle. Smiling at my textbook when he walked by? Not subtle AT ALL.
And his friends—who have the emotional intelligence of confused penguins—noticed instantly. Like any group of boys smelling drama, they became detectives. Very loud, wrong, painfully clueless detectives.
They watched me for days, whispering, nudging, staring like I was some alien species.
Finally, they reached a conclusion.
A terrible, awful, ridiculously wrong conclusion.
They decided I had a crush…
On Veenu.
Veenu. A boy I didn't even know existed until they dragged him into the plot. Suddenly they were elbowing him, teasing him, winking at him—and I was just sitting there like:
Who is Veenu and why is he being attacked?
And because I didn't react at all, it confused them even more, like, "Why isn't she blushing? Why is she just… existing?"
But the universe wasn't done embarrassing me.
Next came the rumor about me and my senior. Just because he helped me with notes during exams. That's it. Apparently academics equals romance now.
His friends latched onto that rumor like it was oxygen.
Walking through the hallway felt like being a celebrity—just without the fame, luxury, or dignity.
"Is that her?"
"That junior girl?"
"Ohhh, the senior's crush!"
I wanted to delete myself.
My sister even cornered me at home: "So… what's going on with that senior guy?"
I nearly died. "There is NOTHING between us! "I yelled like someone clearing their name on national TV.
Thankfully, the rumor stayed in his class.
Still, I had to kill it before it spread.
So I avoided him like expired yogurt—no talking, no eye contact, nothing.
Rumor died. Peace returned.
For exactly four minutes.
Because Rayan and his friends came back to their original mission: Find the boy I kept looking at.
They tried EVERYTHING.
Calling out random boys' names. Walking past me dramatically. Dropping pens in slow motion.
And I refused to look at ANY of them. I was tired of gaining accidental fans.
Finally, I reached my limit.
If they weren't going to figure it out, I'd help them. I wasn't going to confess with words—oh no, absolutely not—but I'd at least give a clear, obvious signal.
So the next time Rayan walked in, I looked at him. Bold. Direct. No blinking.
Did the boys understand?
Of course not.
Instead, they started teasing every good-looking boy in class. One after another. It was like a game show called "Guess Her Crush (Wrong Every Time)".
I was on the verge of throwing my notebook at the nearest wall. "I AM LITERALLY STARING AT RAYAN LIKE HE OWNS MY SOUL—HOW ARE YOU MISSING THIS?!"
But boys will be boys. And boys + romance = guaranteed disaster.
Worse, because they teased every "handsome" guy, one of them began staring at me way too much. A creepy amount. Like "return to sender" amount.
I was so disgusted I couldn't even look in Rayan's direction—his friend might think I was reacting to him.
So I did the only dramatic thing my brain suggested:
I stopped talking to Rayan. Completely. Zero words. Zero eye contact. Zero everything.
Which made everything worse.
Days later, on the bus, everything collided.
Rayan stepped in.
Alone.
For the first time—no friends, no crowd, nothing. Just him.
He saw me and paused for a second, like something felt off. I panicked internally. Then externally. Then internally again.
This was my chance.
My one chance to show him the truth.
Option A: Act normal. (Impossible. I was born without that feature.)
Option B: Give him signs. (A terrible idea… so of course I chose it.)
I began my masterpiece of awkward flirting:
Look at him.
Look away.
Look again.
Pretend to look outside but actually look at his reflection.
Look again.
Smooth? No. Logical? Also no. Obvious? Apparently yes.
Because something in his face… changed.
His brows furrowed. His eyes narrowed. He looked like he was solving a very complicated mystery.
And then…
Very slowly…
His expression shifted.
His eyes widened. Like realization was crawling into place piece by piece.
It happened.
He understood.
He finally, finally understood.
My heart flipped, my stomach spun, and the world suddenly felt too real. After weeks of confusion, wrong guesses, rumors, teasing, and emotional chaos…
He knew.
He finally knew.
Or at least—
I thought he did.
And that's when everything truly began to change.