Arohi's house stood barely a hundred steps away from the small departmental store at the corner of the street. It was so close that from the balcony she could see almost everything—the faded blue signboard, the stacks of biscuit boxes near the door, and the boys who worked behind the counter.
And among them… him.
Most evenings, when the sun softened into a golden haze, Arohi would find herself standing near the balcony railing for no reason at all. Or at least, that's what she told herself.
Sometimes the boy would glance up.
Not always.
But when he did, there was a quiet smile on his face. Not wide, not obvious—just a small, fleeting smile that felt like it belonged only to her.
And then, the next day, he would act as if she didn't exist.
Those mixed signals confused her. They made her wonder if she was imagining things. If that smile had even meant anything at all.
Still, her eyes always drifted back to the store.
It was the first day she had brought home her little white rabbit—a tiny, restless creature that kept hopping around the living room as if it had discovered a whole new world.
Her father laughed as the rabbit jumped onto the sofa.
"Well," he said, picking up the shopping list from the table, "looks like someone needs supplies. Come with me to the store."
Arohi nodded, pretending she wasn't suddenly aware of where they were going.
The walk to the departmental store took less than a minute. A hundred steps, maybe even less. But that day, every step felt strangely heavier.
When they entered, the soft ringing of the doorbell echoed inside.
The store smelled of spices, detergent, and freshly opened cardboard boxes.
Behind the counter, the boy was there.
He was packing groceries into a brown paper bag, his hands moving quickly and carefully. For a moment, he didn't look up.
But Arohi noticed something.
His ears were tilted slightly toward them.
He was listening.
Her father spoke casually with the shop owner about rabbit food, hay, and a small bowl.
"Yes, my daughter just bought a rabbit today," her father said.
Arohi stood quietly beside him.
The boy continued packing, but she could tell he had heard every word.
And for the first time, Arohi allowed herself to look at him properly.
Not just a quick glance from the balcony. Not just a passing moment.
She watched him steadily.
The way his hair fell slightly over his forehead. The calm concentration on his face as he folded the paper bag. The faint curve of a smile that appeared when he finally looked up.
Their eyes met for a brief second.
Just one second.
Then he looked back down at the bag as if nothing had happened.
Arohi didn't say a word.
She simply stood there, quietly absorbing every detail, every tiny gesture, as if she were collecting pieces of a puzzle she didn't yet understand.
And somewhere inside her mind, a thought flickered softly—
Maybe this was the beginning of something.
Or maybe it was just another one of those smiles that meant nothing at all.