Mornings after emotional nights are supposed to be peaceful. Calm. Healing. The kind where you wake up feeling lighter, like the universe has finally decided to give you a break.
Mine, however, arrived with the energy of a dead butterfly that had fought three wars and lost all of them.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, eyes half-open, body completely unwilling to cooperate. My limbs felt glued to the mattress, my brain refused to boot up, and my soul? Missing. Presumed stolen. Gravity felt personal today, like it had a personal vendetta against me and had decided I was not allowed to move.
The room was quiet—too quiet. No noise. No chaos. No Kiara commentary. That alone should have been my first warning.
Then—
BANG.
The door burst open with zero warning and maximum aggression.
"MISHA. GET UP. WE'RE GOING TO MY COLLEGE."
I flinched so violently that my soul re-entered my body out of fear.
Kiara stood there like a force of nature—fully dressed, bag already slung over her shoulder, hair perfect, energy unreasonably high. She looked like someone who had slept eight hours, hydrated, and consumed motivation as her morning beverage.
I groaned and rolled onto my side. "Why do you wake up like the world owes you money?"
She grinned, completely unapologetic. "Because it does."
I dragged the blanket over my face like it could protect me from reality. "I am deceased. Please respect the dead."
"No," she said cheerfully, stepping further into the room. "We are leaving in forty minutes."
I peeked out from under the blanket, suspicious. "For what crime?"
"For submitting assignments," she said, counting on her fingers, "returning books, and taking you to my college."
Something in my chest tightened.
My brain froze for half a second.
Déjà vu hit me like a sudden chill.
College. Classrooms. Benches. Corridors. That word alone stirred something restless inside me—memories overlapping, feelings I couldn't place, emotions that didn't belong to this morning but showed up anyway. It felt like I had lived this moment before, like I already knew how the day would unfold but couldn't remember why.
I frowned, trying to shake it off.
"That sounds… unnecessary," I muttered.
Kiara ignored my clearly valid concern and walked straight over, yanking the blanket off me with zero mercy. "Get up."
I sat up slowly, my body creaking like a haunted staircase in an old horror movie. As I dragged myself toward the bathroom, that strange feeling lingered—light, buzzing, uncomfortable.
Anticipation.
Which made absolutely no sense.
And that's what bothered me the most.
I brushed my teeth aggressively, glaring at my reflection like it might explain why my stomach felt like it was preparing for an exam it hadn't studied for. The mirror, unfortunately, offered no answers—just my own confused face staring back at me like, girl, same.
Somewhere between washing my face and tying my hair, a thought slipped in softly, without permission.
Will the boys be there?
I froze for half a second.
Immediately, I scolded myself.
Why would that matter?
Kiara's friends—her boys—were loud, chaotic, and strangely familiar. The kind of people who filled spaces without trying. Nice in an effortless way. Comfortable. And for reasons I did not feel like unpacking at eight in the morning, the idea of running into them made my chest feel tight, like my heart was bracing itself for something it refused to explain.
I told myself it was nothing.
I wanted to ask Kiara. Casually. Coolly. Like a normal, emotionally stable human being.
"So, uh… are your friends coming today?"
But the words never left my mouth.
Instead, I walked out of the room pretending I was fine. Mentally balanced. Completely unbothered. An Oscar-worthy performance, really.
We left the house arguing about breakfast. Kiara insisted I eat something. I insisted I would rather perish dramatically. She won. She always did.
As we walked toward college, I kept looking around like something was about to happen. Like someone would suddenly appear out of nowhere. My heart was doing that stupid thing where it beats faster for no logical reason, and my brain kept saying, calm down, while my body refused to listen.
Kiara chatted nonstop about assignments, professors, deadlines—completely unaware of the silent chaos unfolding inside me.
We reached her college. Wide campus. Quiet corridors.
"I need to submit my assignment," she said casually. "You wait in that classroom."
She pointed and disappeared before I could protest.
I walked into the classroom and sat on one of the benches, swinging my legs lightly. The room was empty. Too empty. I checked my phone.
Maybe they're late, I told myself.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then Kiara walked in, glanced at me, and said casually, like she was commenting on the weather, "Oh, by the way, the boys aren't coming today. They bunked."
I blinked.
"They… what?"
"Yeah," she said. "None of them came."
And just like that.
Something inside me dropped.
I didn't know what it was.
I didn't know why it mattered.
But the emptiness felt loud.
I stared at the desk, fingers tapping against the wood in restless patterns. It wasn't disappointment exactly. It was softer than that. Quieter. The kind of sadness that slipped in without permission and sat there, pretending it belonged.
And I hated that feeling.
I hated that it had appeared out of nowhere, uninvited, unwarranted, and completely unnecessary. So I did what I always did best—I shoved it aside and pretended it didn't exist.
A while later, practically glowing with accomplishment."Okay, done!" she announced. "Let's return the library books."
I nodded immediately, pushing myself up before my emotions could do something embarrassing. "Yeah. Sure."
The library was massive and eerily silent, like even sound had been told to behave. Tall shelves stretched endlessly, rows upon rows of books standing like strict judges watching every movement. The air smelled like paper, dust, and suppressed academic trauma.
Kiara headed straight to the counter with the books, already in conversation with the librarian, leaving me alone among the shelves.
And that's when the universe leaned in close and whispered something dangerous.
Explore.
I wandered off without thinking, drifting between aisles like a lost character in a coming-of-age movie. I pretended to read book titles, nodding thoughtfully as if I understood them and not like someone actively running away from her feelings.
I pulled out random books. Opened them. Stared at pages filled with words that meant nothing. Closed them again. Replaced them with fake confidence.
Ah yes. Intellectual behaviour.
I turned a corner.
And slammed straight into a human being.
"Oh—"
That was all I managed before my foot caught on absolutely nothing. My balance panicked. My brain shut down. My arms flailed in opposite directions like they were fighting for survival.
Time slowed.
I didn't fall.
I collapsed.
My body went down in stages—knees buckling, torso tilting, arms windmilling—like a dying whale performing interpretive dance for an invisible audience.
And then the books joined in.
One book slipped.Then another.Then the entire shelf decided it was my enemy.
Books rained down like knowledge-based punishment.
THUD.BANG.SMACK.
The noise echoed through the library like a crime scene announcement.
I landed flat on the floor, surrounded by fallen books, one resting on my chest, another near my face, my bag somewhere behind me like it had disowned me.
I stared at the ceiling.
My soul quietly packed its bags and left.
Please, I prayed. Please let no one see this. I will never misbehave again.
For once, God listened.
The library was empty.
Completely.
Dead silent.
Except for the person I had crashed into.
I turned my head slowly, bracing myself for humiliation.
They were standing there, frozen, staring at me like they had just witnessed a live blooper that wasn't supposed to exist outside the internet.
I scrambled up immediately, panic fueling my limbs. "I—uh—sorry—I didn't—these books attacked me—I swear they fell first—"
Words were leaving my mouth without approval.
They blinked once. "Are you okay?"
I nodded far too fast. "Yes. Absolutely. Thriving. Never been better."
They bent down and helped me collect the fallen books. Our hands brushed once. I nearly dropped everything again. The silence between us was unbearable—thick, awkward, and screaming with second-hand embarrassment.
No names.No eye contact.No recovery.
The moment the books were stacked, they walked away.
I didn't look back.
I ran.
Kiara found me five minutes later, dramatically sitting on the floor behind a shelf, knees hugged to my chest like I was hiding from my own existence.
"I fell," I whispered.
She stared at me. "How?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
She laughed so hard she had to grab the shelf for support.
And honestly?That shelf deserved it.
At home, exhaustion hit like a brick thrown with intent.
We dumped our bags, kicked off our footwear, and collapsed like two people who had been personally wronged by the universe. For a while, we did absolutely nothing. No talking. No moving. Just existing in silence like phones left on low battery mode.
After a while, when my limbs finally remembered how to function, I picked up my phone and instinctively opened the group chat.
Instant regret.Instant chaos.
Rohan was, once again, being the human embodiment of nonsense. The group chat was alive, loud, and clearly running on caffeine, sleep deprivation, and poor life choices.
Rohan: Guys serious question. If I skip dinner and drink coffee instead, will I survive?
Nandini: I think my brain is melting also why is the fan making noise like that
Rohan: Because it's tired of us.
Anushka: Both of you shut up. You sound like two unpaid background characters.
Harsh: Can we focus for one second? Are we meeting this weekend or not?
Nandini: YES please I need human interaction before I lose my sanity
Rohan: Only if Misha is back by then
Daksh: Weekend sounds fine. Saturday evening maybe?
Anushka: Wow Daksh speaking logic again. Shocking.
Harsh: Misha when are you coming back???
Nandini: Yesss campus feels empty without you
Rohan: Come back fast or I'll start acting mature. Nobody wants that.
I smiled before I could stop myself.
Me: Relax children. I'm alive. I'll be back soon.
Anushka: Unfortunately.
Me: Wow love you too.
Rohan: MISS YOU
Daksh: Yeah. Miss you here.
That line sat differently.
I replied to a few more messages, promised to meet them soon, threw in a sarcastic comment for balance, and then closed the chat before my emotions could overthink everything.
That's when I noticed it.
A separate notification.
Daksh.
Personal chat.
I opened it slowly, like it might judge me.
Daksh: Hey. How are you?
Daksh: How's Bhavnagar treating you?
Daksh: What are you doing today?
Normal. Simple. Safe.
Then the last message.
Daksh: Kinda missing you here.
I stared at my screen longer than necessary.
My heart didn't race.But it didn't feel neutral either.
I typed back, keeping it light.
Me: I'm good. Very tired, very chaotic. Bhavnagar is peaceful though.
Daksh: Sounds like you.
Me: Always.
We talked for a bit. About normal things. His day. My fall-at-the-library incident (edited version). College nonsense. Nothing heavy. Nothing emotional.
When the conversation naturally slowed, I ended it there.
Night arrived quietly, without any announcement. The kind of night that settles instead of crashes. The house felt slower, softer, like it finally exhaled.
Kiara knocked once before entering, already halfway inside, holding two Sprite bottles like a peace offering. Terrace time. Our ritual that never needed permission or planning.
We climbed up together, steps familiar under our feet. The terrace opened up above us, wide and calm, the city humming far below like it had its own life.
We sat side by side, legs dangling off the edge, shoulders barely touching. The cool air brushed against my face, easing something tight inside my chest.
For a while, we talked about nothing important. Old memories, stupid jokes, random complaints about life. The kind of talking that doesn't need depth to feel real.
Silence slipped in naturally, not awkward but heavy in a different way. My thoughts circled one name again and again until I couldn't ignore it anymore.
"Daksh texted me," I said casually, staring straight ahead. I said it like it didn't matter, even though my heart reacted immediately.
Kiara turned toward me slowly, her expression gentle but alert. She didn't rush me or interrupt, just waited for me to continue.
"He said he misses me," I admitted quietly. Saying it out loud made it feel more real, heavier than it had on my phone screen.
I swallowed and looked down at my hands. "I don't know what to do with that," I added, voice low.
She didn't tease or joke like she usually would. Instead, she listened—really listened—letting the silence hold the moment.
"Misha," she said softly after a pause, "it's okay to feel confused." She took a slow sip of Sprite, calm and grounded.
"You're not obligated to feel the same," she continued, her voice steady. That sentence settled deep inside me, loosening something tight.
I nodded slowly, throat tight. "I don't want to hurt him," I whispered. "But I don't want to lie either."
She smiled, gentle and reassuring. "Then don't," she said simply. "Honesty doesn't have to be cruel."
"When you go back," she added, "talk to him properly." Her tone wasn't forceful, just practical and kind.
"Say what you feel and what you don't," she said. "Let him hear the truth instead of guessing."
The idea scared me instantly. Confrontation always did. But underneath the fear, there was relief—quiet and unexpected.
It felt like a weight lifting off my chest. Breathing became easier, lighter, like I hadn't realised how tense I was before.
"You don't owe clarity immediately," she continued. "You're allowed to take time and figure it out."
I leaned back against the terrace floor and looked up at the sky. The stars didn't demand answers either. They just existed.
For the first time that day, my chest felt calm. Not empty. Not heavy. Just steady.
We drifted back into lighter conversations, letting the seriousness fade naturally. Talking about useless dreams, future plans, and things that didn't matter.
Laughter returned, softer but genuine. The night wrapped around us like it always did—quiet and forgiving.
Eventually, we finished our drinks and headed inside. No rush, no urgency, just comfort.
Later, lying in bed with my phone beside me, I replayed the night in my head. Every word, every pause, every feeling.
And before sleep took over, one thought settled clearly. Not everything needs an answer tonight.