The following day at college was strangely quiet. The rumors had slowed down, but the looks hadn't stopped. Every smile felt loaded, every whisper felt targeted. But Ayaan had grown used to it over the years—he'd learned how to smile through the noise.
What he wasn't ready for, however, was the piece of folded paper he found inside his class notebook during the third lecture.
It wasn't his handwriting.
His name wasn't on it either.
Just a small pink paper folded neatly, like someone had placed it there with both care and nervousness.
He hesitated before opening it. He looked around the classroom. No one was looking at him. No one seemed guilty or mischievous.
He slowly unfolded it under the bench.
**"To the one who has always been close,and yet so far—I don't know if this is a mistake.But keeping this inside is hurting more than the fear of you knowing.
I've loved you. Silently. Completely.Since the day we fought over that blue crayon in second grade.Since the day you waited with me under the school shed when I forgot my umbrella.Since the day you danced like an idiot at your sister's wedding and smiled at me like I was the only one there.
You never noticed, did you?
Maybe you were too busy being… you.
And I was too scared of ruining what we already had.But watching you talk to everyone but me… it breaks something inside me every time.I'm not asking you to love me back.I'm just asking you not to forget what we were before silence took over.
— From someone who still remembers everything."**
Ayaan read it again.
And again.
His fingers trembled slightly by the third read.
His mind raced. Who?
Who wrote this?
But in his heart… he knew.
It was the mention of the wedding. The blue crayon. The shed. Things only one person knew.
Eisha.
He looked up immediately, searching for her across the room. But she wasn't there. Her seat was empty.
"Where's Eisha?" he asked Rohit in a low voice.
"She went out. Said she wasn't feeling well."
He tucked the letter back inside his notebook and stood up quietly, ignoring the professor's warning stare as he slipped out of the class.
He found her in the college garden, sitting under the neem tree with her diary in her lap, scribbling something quickly.
"Eisha," he called out.
She looked up—her eyes wide for a moment, then guarded.
He didn't speak immediately. Just sat beside her, not caring about the muddy grass or the curious stares from nearby couples.
"I found something in my notebook today."
Her hand paused mid-page.
"I read it," he said gently. "Every word."
Eisha bit her lip. "It wasn't for you."
"Don't lie."
She looked down. "It was never supposed to be found. I—I wrote it in a moment of weakness. I didn't mean for—"
"I remember the crayon fight," he interrupted, a smile tugging at his lips. "You threw it at my head."
A tiny chuckle escaped her. "You cried for an hour."
"I didn't cry."
"You did."
He shook his head, then grew quiet. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Because I didn't want to lose you."
"But I was already losing you without knowing why."
Her eyes met his—this time without fear.
"Eisha," he whispered, "if I told you I felt the same… but I was just too stupid to realise it till now… would that make this mess any better?"
A soft wind passed between them as her voice broke gently, "Maybe not better. But real."
They sat there in silence, the unspoken finally out in the open. No dramatic declarations. No promises.
Just truth.
And it was enough—for now.
The letter stayed in Ayaan's wallet from that day on.A reminder that sometimes love isn't loud.It hides in shared umbrellas, in crayon fights, in wedding dances, and in letters never meant to be sent.