Part 1: The Girl Who Sat by the Window
I never believed in love at first sight. I believed in hard work, discipline, and silence. My life was simple — college in the morning, part-time work in the evening, late-night studies, and dreams that were bigger than my pocket. Relationships were distractions. At least that's what I used to think. Until the day she walked into the classroom and chose the seat near the window. The sunlight touched her face in a way that made the entire room look different. She wasn't the loud type. She didn't try to impress anyone. She just sat there quietly, earphones in, eyes outside the window as if she was watching a world only she could see. I don't know why, but that day I forgot what the professor was teaching. I only remember her adjusting her hair and smiling slightly at something on her phone. That smile wasn't big. It wasn't dramatic. But it stayed in my mind longer than it should have. I told myself it was nothing. Just attraction. Just curiosity. But the next day, I reached class ten minutes early — for the first time in my life.
Days turned into weeks, and without realizing it, she became part of my routine. I learned her name — Aanya. I learned she liked coffee without sugar. I learned she preferred sitting alone. I learned she rarely laughed loudly but smiled often. One day, by coincidence — or maybe destiny — the seat beside her was empty. I hesitated for five seconds… then sat down. She looked at me, surprised, then removed one earphone. "Yes?" she asked softly. That was our first conversation. It was awkward. Short. Simple. But something changed after that. Slowly, we started talking more. About assignments. About movies. About random things. She listened more than she spoke. And when she spoke, it felt meaningful. One evening, while walking out of college, it started raining heavily. Everyone rushed for shelter. She stood still under the rain for a moment, looking up at the sky. I asked, "Don't you want to run?" She replied, "Some things feel better when you don't escape them." That sentence stayed with me. I didn't know why, but it felt like she wasn't talking about rain.
Months passed, and my feelings grew deeper than I had planned. I found myself waiting for her messages. Smiling at her jokes. Noticing small things — the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when nervous, the way her voice became softer when she talked about her childhood. But there was always something mysterious about her. She never talked about her family in detail. She never invited anyone to her home. She never stayed late after college. And sometimes, her eyes looked distant — like she was carrying something heavy inside. One day, I finally gathered the courage to ask, "Why do you always look outside the window?" She paused for a few seconds and said, "Because I'm counting the days." I laughed lightly, thinking she was joking. "Counting the days for what?" She looked at me — and for the first time, her smile didn't reach her eyes. "For when I have to leave."
Leave?
The word hit me harder than I expected. "Leave where?" I asked quickly. She didn't answer. She just changed the topic. After that day, she started becoming quieter. She replied late. She skipped classes occasionally. When I asked if everything was okay, she smiled and said, "Don't worry. I'm fine." But she wasn't. I could feel it. One evening, I received a message from her: "Can we meet tomorrow? 6 PM. The café near the old bridge." My heart raced. I thought maybe this was it. Maybe she was going to confess. Maybe she felt the same. The entire next day felt longer than a year. I reached the café fifteen minutes early. I rehearsed what I would say. I even carried a small gift — nothing expensive, just a simple bracelet. 6:00 PM. She wasn't there. 6:10 PM. Still no sign. 6:20 PM. I called her. Switched off. A strange fear began creeping into my chest. At 6:32 PM, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A male voice spoke calmly, "Are you waiting for Aanya?"
My heart stopped.
"Yes… who is this?"
There was a pause on the other side.
Then the voice said,
"She won't be coming. And if you care about her… don't try to find her."
The call disconnected.
I froze.
At that exact moment, a message appeared on my phone.
From Aanya.
Just three words:
"I'm sorry. Goodbye."
And before I could reply…
Her profile picture disappeared.
Her number became unreachable.
And when I ran to her house the next morning…
The neighbors said,
"She moved out last night."
Without telling anyone.
Without telling me.
But the real shock was waiting in my college locker.
Inside it… was the bracelet I had planned to give her.
And a note in her handwriting:
"You were never supposed to fall for me."
To be continued
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