Love Before Graduation

Lunch bell rang, and the kids rushed out as if it wasn't a school, but a prison.

Each pair of eyes held the same exhaustion, the same helplessness—as if even during lunch break, life trailed behind them like a burden.

I was sitting under the gulmohar tree. The tiffin was open, but hunger was wandering somewhere far away. The sight of roti made me nauseous. The wind was running its fingers through my hair—and I felt like flying away with it. Anywhere. Just far from here.

"You're not looking at him, but you're definitely thinking about him."

Nami arrived and sat beside me without asking for permission. As if she knew—this was the perfect moment to pry.

I turned my head, pretending not to understand.

"What?"

"Aarin," she said his name like she was scratching open something buried inside me.

"You're ignoring him. But you're doing it so loudly that even if Aarin doesn't notice, the whole universe can hear it."

I tore off a piece of roti and shoved it into my mouth—didn't chew, didn't taste. Just wanted to run away from the question.

"Aira..."

The way she said my name—it felt like a part of me had stepped outside and was demanding an answer from the rest of me.

I threw the tiffin onto my lap.

"Yes, I'm ignoring him. So what? Isn't that what 'maturity' is? Isn't that what everyone says—'move on', 'don't overthink'?

But there's something stuck inside me... like a thorn in my heart. It won't come out, and no one else can see it either."

Nami stayed silent. But even her silence had a kind of rhythm to it, like she was saying—go on, say as much as you want... I'm listening.

"My mind tells me to forget him. My heart says no. And me? I'm just a girl stuck between the two—

with dry rotis in her tiffin and damp loneliness in her life."

Nami laughed. But not the kind of laugh you laugh at a joke.

It was the kind that gently places a bandage on your wound.

"Your problem isn't what you should do," she said.

"Your problem is you want everyone to believe you're okay...

even when you're absolutely not."

I looked at her. She had already slipped her hand into mine.

"Look," she said, "if you want to curse him—do it.

If you want to write stories in his name—write them.

If you want to scream and cry—I'll be right there.

No one's coming to hush you."

I took a deep breath.

"Will you really listen to my story? The one with Aarin in it?"

"Yes," she said.

"Even if it's about both of you wanting to die...

or about standing in front of him and not being able to say a single word."

I smiled a little.

"You really are a true friend."

"And you," she said,

"are a truly tormented soul."

The bell rang again. We stood up.

I tied my hair—this time so tightly, it felt like I was trying to take control of something.

We started walking. I tried not to look at Aarin.

Well, okay. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

I did glance a little.

But Nami didn't say anything.

Because a true friend is the one who plays along with your lie as if it were the truth.