We were laughing.
Not the polite kind, the real one that makes your cheeks hurt and your stomach ache.
"Really," Nimesh said, wiping his eyes,
"I became serious for a moment."
I laughed too, but my heart was somewhere else.
When I had sent that message, Will you be my BF?
I hadn't meant labels.
I hadn't meant pressure.
What I meant was best friend.
Someone who stays.
Someone who chooses me.
And honestly...
being his best friend didn't feel small at all.
It already felt like everything.
Days passed normally, or at least they looked normal.
I was doing well in studies.
Nimesh wasn't.
So I helped him.
We stayed after school sometimes.
I explained things slowly, patiently.
He listened like it actually mattered.
Somewhere between notes and laughter,
between "you don't get this?" and "teach me again,"
we grew closer.
Every day, a little more.
One afternoon, a few of us stayed back at school and started playing truth and dare.
It was loud.
Messy.
Carefree.
When it was Nimesh's turn, he chose dare.
Someone smiled and said,
"Propose Prakirti."
My heart skipped so fast I could hear it.
Nimesh stood in front of me.
For the first time that day, he looked serious.
"Prakirti" he said, softly,
"I like you."
The world went quiet.
I felt my head move slightly, almost a yes.
My lips curved before I could stop them.
Then he laughed.
"Dare completed."
Everyone laughed after that, but I didn't hear them properly.
I smiled, because I didn't want anyone to know.
But something inside me cracked.
After school, I walked home slowly.
That day, my mom was in one of her moods.
She told me to do everything by myself.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Everything.
I didn't check my phone once.
But Nimesh did.
He messaged.
He called.
Again and again.
And I wasn't there.
When I finally picked up my phone at night, my screen was full of him.
Are you okay?
Did I hurt you?
Please reply.
My heart softened instantly.
I texted him back and explained everything.
And then he said it.
"I wasn't joking," he typed.
"I meant it."
I stared at the screen, smiling like a fool.
I accepted.
That night, we talked for hours.
About feelings.
About fears.
About us.
The next day at school, we couldn't even look at each other.
We were shy.
Embarrassed.
Happy for no reason.
Our friends noticed.
They teased us.
We denied it at first.
Then slowly accepted it, not loudly, not clearly .
Just enough to understand each other.
Days turned into weeks.
We talked all the time.
Morning messages.
Late night calls.
Sharing every small thing.
At school, we searched for private moments ,
stairs, corners, empty classrooms.
At night, video calls became routine.
Sometimes I fell asleep mid-call.
And he stayed.
He watched me sleep like I was something fragile,
like I was a dream he didn't want to wake.
One night, I slept on call again.
And that's when everything changed.
My mom entered my room.
She saw the phone.
The chats.
The poems he wrote for me.
Her face changed.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me off the bed.
I hit the floor.
"Who is he?" she shouted.
My heart raced.
I said another name.
A lie.
She didn't believe me.
She took my phone and started calling him.
Again.
And again.
But Nimesh didn't answer.
The ringing filled the room.
And all I could think was,
Please don't pick up.
Please don't pick up.
Because if he did...
Nothing would ever be the same.