No one ever waited for him.
Every day, he chose the last seat near the window.
Not because he loved the view, but because no one looked there.
His name was Rohan.
People thought he was weak.
In reality, he was just tired of speaking.
Teachers ignored him.
Students forgot him.
And slowly, Rohan learned how to live without being noticed.
His mornings were simple.
An old bicycle.
A silent road.
A bag full of books and an empty heart.
He reached college, locked his cycle, and walked inside without greeting anyone.
Laughter echoed around him, but it never touched him.
Silence had become his habit.
That morning felt normal.
Until a girl entered the classroom.
Her name was Siya.
She was calm, not noisy.
She didn't try to shine.
She took an empty seat just a little ahead of Rohan.
Too close.
Rohan kept his eyes on his notebook.
He didn't want trouble.
He didn't want attention.
Yet something felt different.
The lecture was boring.
Suddenly, the teacher spoke.
"Rohan, answer this."
The room went quiet.
Then whispers started.
Rohan stood up slowly.
"I'm not sure, sir," he said.
Some students laughed.
The teacher shook his head.
"Sit down."
Rohan did.
His hands were shaking.
Then he felt it.
Someone was looking at him.
He looked up.
Siya.
Her eyes didn't laugh.
They didn't judge.
They understood.
That single moment hurt more than the mockery.
After class, Rohan tried to leave quickly.
As always.
But a soft voice stopped him.
"Hey… wait."
He turned back.
Siya stood there, holding his notebook.
"You dropped this," she said.
"Oh… thanks," he replied.
She smiled slightly.
"You write nicely," she said.
"It feels real."
Rohan didn't know what to say.
No one had ever said that to him.
"Thank you," he whispered.
She nodded and walked away.
But her words stayed.
That night, Rohan opened his notebook again.
This time, he didn't copy notes.
He wrote:
Being quiet doesn't mean being empty.
Sometimes, it means holding too much inside.
He closed the book.
Something had changed.
Days passed.
Siya started greeting him.
Short talks.
Small smiles.
Nothing serious.
But for Rohan, it felt dangerous.
Because when you are invisible for years…
Even kindness feels risky.
One evening, he heard voices near the stairs.
"She's just using him," someone said.
"For notes. That's all."
Laughter followed.
Rohan froze.
His chest tightened.
So that's what he was to her?
He went home without looking back.
That night, silence returned.
But this silence was heavy.
Angry.
Rohan stood in front of the mirror.
Same face.
Same quiet boy.
But his eyes were different.
They were tired of being ignored.
Tired of being kind.
Pain was growing inside him.
And pain, when it stays for too long…
Never stays silent.