The sound of the TV came through to my room-he was watching football. A sports lover? Strange. He stays in his room all the time, doesn't come out, doesn't play anything... and now suddenly he's watching football?
I opened the door slightly and peeked outside. His eyes were glued to the TV screen. I closed the door again.
Why does his presence disturb me so much?
Why can't I just stay normal like him...
Like he always does...
I went to the kitchen, grabbed some snacks on a tray, and started making chai on the stove. The sound of the TV was louder now-so loud, the whole village could probably hear it. Mom and Papa had gone to the market to buy vegetables. Babu went to get books... or maybe he was just out with his friends.
I came and sat beside him. He looked surprised, almost suspicious. He hadn't expected me to make the first move. It felt like a silent battle between us-like we both wanted to talk but were waiting for the other to start. I was waiting for him... maybe he was waiting for me. I don't know. But his eyes said a lot.
"Want?" I asked, offering him a cup of chai.
He took it.
The silence between us was awkward... but somehow beautiful too. There was no one around to disturb us, yet we didn't speak.
Then he took a sip and said, "Is she gone?"
He was asking about Bua.
"Hmm," I replied.
He nodded when he heard that.
Then he looked at me-straight into my eyes.
But I was staring at the TV.
And then I looked at him.
For the first time, our eyes met-really met.
It was the first time we saw each other this close, this clearly, face to face.
And time... it moved quietly. Smoothly.
His eyes... I saw something in them, something deep and heavy-like someone silently begging to be held, tightly. He looked alone, his sadness unspoken but clearly written in his gaze. There was sorrow there, quiet but undeniable. We blinked slowly, as if even that small act might shatter the moment. The truth was, neither of us wanted to blink. This moment felt too important, too precious. We didn't want to waste it-not even on something as natural as blinking. We just wanted to stay in it, live in it, feel it fully. Right here, right now-in the present, with each other.
A sound came from outside-it was a mini truck. Mom and Papa had returned. Their voices echoed through the hall, where the two of us sat silently, watching a football match.
"Why did he give us this flour packet? We asked for something else, didn't we?" Papa said, clearly tense and frustrated. Maybe the shopkeeper didn't give him his preferred brand.
"I told you we should bargain a little, but no-you just take out the money and hand it over right away," Mom replied, cutting him off without even listening.
I smiled a little. Tej looked at me, and when I looked back at him, I started laughing softly. He smiled too. We were both smiling together... and it felt so long since I had smiled like that. I don't think I've ever laughed so openly before. It wasn't the usual forced smile people wear when they're uncomfortable-it was real, from the heart.
Mom and Papa walked into the hall. Tej got up and went outside to unload the stuff. He started bringing everything into the kitchen one by one. I stood there, helping him. There was a big packet of flour, some groceries, and on top of that-seeds and fertilizer. He left the heavy bags of fertilizer outside for now. They were meant to be kept later in the outside storage room where the rest of the farming supplies were stored.
He tried to lift the heavy bag on his shoulder, struggling just a little, then walked upstairs without saying much. "I'll change," he mumbled, eyes not meeting mine. I stood there, unsure-waiting, half-hoping he'd come back down soon.
I didn't even know him that well.
Just a few days ago, he arrived as a new tenant in the spare room upstairs. Quiet. Reserved. A little rough around the edges. Mom had told me not to bother him-"He's just here for a short time. He pays rent on time. That's all that matters."
But something about him caught my attention.
Maybe it was the way he always looked a little lost, like he was carrying the weight of something invisible. Or maybe I was just being foolish-spending too much time observing someone who barely knew my name.
Three days.
That's all I have left before I return to the city. To my apartment. To my office job. Back to emails, coffee breaks, meetings, and empty evenings. My life isn't dramatic or exciting. It's just quiet. Predictable. And lately... a little lonely.
He was a strange comfort. His silence didn't feel awkward. His rare smiles made me curious. And when we did talk-just casually, over tea or dinner-it felt... easy.
But now?
Now he's been gone too long. He went upstairs, and he never came back.
I found myself in the kitchen, helping Mom prepare dinner. She handed me the coriander, chatting about how fast time flies, how I'd be leaving soon. I smiled weakly, but my eyes kept drifting toward the staircase.
Where is he?
Just an hour ago, we sat side by side on the couch watching a football match, made eye contact, saw each other clearly, smiled at very little things when Mom and Dad talked. His laugh wasn't loud, but it lingered. I felt it in my chest. And for a second, it didn't feel like I barely knew him.
But now... that distance was back.
Was he ignoring me? Or was I reading too much into all of this? We weren't friends. We weren't anything. I had no right to expect him to come back downstairs. But I still waited.
And waited.
Was he tired? Did I say something weird? Maybe he really doesn't care. Maybe I was just one more face in the background of his short stay here.
But even knowing all that, I kept watching the stairs-like maybe if I stared hard enough, he'd feel it. He'd come back. Say something. Anything.
But the stairs stayed silent.
And so did he.
I wiped my hands, gave Mom a quiet smile, and told myself to stop overthinking. He wasn't mine to miss. And yet, here I was-missing someone I barely knew.
He came to dinner. Papa asked him about his job, and he replied, "Going good." He has a job-working at a company, where his post is manager.
But still, why is he living in a small room... in a village?
His job is far away from here. He goes every early morning at 5am and comes back at late night around 12am
I want to know why he's living here, but... I think everyone has their own reasons.
And I don't have any right to ask him that question.
Mom was serving him dal-chawal.
"I'm going out tomorrow," I informed them.
Mom glanced at me, Babu was busy eating his whole bowl of rice, and the man sitting in front of me was silently eating his meal.
"Okay," Papa responded. "I'd go for the passport-getting the passport and driving license made."
"What?! Di, are you buying a car?" Babu asked excitedly, his cheeks stuffed with rice.
Some grains were stuck to his face, so I took a tissue and gently wiped them away.
"Just thinking. I haven't decided yet," I clarified.
"Ohh... okay. Both are similar anyway," he said again, still smiling.
Tej got up and walked toward his room.
I washed my hands and waited for Mom and Dad to go into their room.
Babu had already fallen asleep.
I stepped outside and looked up at the stars.
I really haven't decided to buy a car yet...
But one day, I will need one.
When I saw that old mini truck where my mom sat so uncomfortably, I wished I had a car.
But more than for myself...
I decided to buy it for her.