The week after I left the hostel felt different.
Not necessarily better.
Not necessarily worse.
Just... different.
For the first time in weeks, I didn't have to worry about where I was going to sleep or who might walk into my room in the middle of the night.
I was back home.
My own room.
My own bed.
My own pillow.
And, most importantly, no seniors waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn me into a powdered ghost.
I smiled at the thought.
Then immediately remembered Payel laughing at me for three straight hours.
"Traitor," I muttered to myself.
I picked up my phone.
There was already a message from her.
"Good morning, Mr. Sleepyhead."
I smiled.
"Good morning, professional roaster."
The reply came almost immediately.
"Still angry?"
"Yes."
"Good."
I stared at the screen.
"What kind of person says good?"
Another message appeared.
"Because I haven't finished roasting you yet."
I couldn't help laughing.
This was Payel.
Somehow, even after everything that had happened, she could still make an ordinary morning feel special.
We talked for a while.
Not for three hours like that Sunday.
Just enough.
She still joked.
She still teased me.
She still called me names that would have annoyed me if they came from anyone else.
But there were moments when her replies felt shorter.
A little distant.
Maybe she was busy.
Maybe she was tired.
Maybe I was simply overthinking.
I decided not to think about it.
After all, not every change meant something.
Sometimes a person was just having a bad day.
And sometimes...
sometimes we create problems in our minds that don't even exist.
That afternoon, I went outside for a while.
The weather was pleasant.
I walked around with my earphones in, listening to music and thinking about everything that had happened over the last few weeks.
My life had changed so quickly.
A few months ago, I hadn't even imagined that things would become this complicated.
And yet here I was.
Thinking about Payel.
Thinking about the hostel.
Thinking about the future.
Thinking about us.
Us.
The word stayed in my mind.
I smiled.
Maybe things were finally becoming normal again.
Maybe the worst part was behind us.
Maybe...
I was wrong.
That evening, I messaged her.
"What are you doing?"
No reply.
I waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
Nothing.
I put my phone down.
Picked it up again.
Checked.
Nothing.
I laughed at myself.
"Relax."
She wasn't obligated to reply immediately.
People had lives.
People got busy.
I knew that.
So I kept my phone aside.
A few hours later, I checked again.
Still nothing.
I went to sleep.
The next morning, there was a message.
"Sorry, I was busy yesterday."
That was it.
I stared at it.
Normally, I wouldn't have thought anything of it.
But something about the message felt strange.
Not bad.
Just...
different.
I typed:
"It's okay."
I waited.
Nothing.
I put my phone away.
Maybe I was overthinking.
Again.
Over the next few days, it happened more often.
Our conversations became shorter.
Sometimes she'd reply after hours.
Sometimes she'd disappear in the middle of a conversation.
Sometimes I'd send something and she'd respond with a simple "hmm."
"Hmm."
That word started irritating me.
Because what was I supposed to do with "hmm"?
Was she angry?
Was she bored?
Was she tired?
Was she avoiding me?
Or was I simply imagining things?
I didn't know.
And not knowing was the worst part.
One evening, I finally asked.
"Are you okay?"
She replied:
"Yeah."
"Sure?"
"Yes."
I stared at the screen.
There was something I wanted to ask.
But I didn't.
Instead, I typed:
"Okay."
She replied with a simple:
"Hmm."
I sighed.
There it was again.
"Hmm."
I threw my phone onto my bed.
"What's happening?"
I didn't have an answer.
And maybe that was the beginning.
Not a fight.
Not an argument.
Not some dramatic moment.
Just uncertainty.
A tiny crack that neither of us noticed.
Or maybe we noticed it and chose not to talk about it.
The following Sunday, we talked again.
But even then, something felt different.
She was there.
I was there.
We were talking.
Yet somehow, it didn't feel like before.
I tried making her laugh.
She laughed.
I told her something stupid.
She smiled.
Everything looked normal.
But I could feel something underneath it.
Like there was a sentence she wanted to say but wasn't saying.
So I asked.
"Payel?"
"Hmm?"
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
I nodded.
"Okay."
She smiled.
I smiled back.
And the conversation continued.
But that answer stayed in my mind.
No.
Maybe nothing was wrong.
Maybe she really was okay.
Maybe she was simply tired.
Maybe school was stressful.
Maybe I was thinking too much.
I wanted to believe that.
So I did.
At least for the moment.
Because sometimes, when you care about someone, you don't want to believe something is changing.
You convince yourself that everything is fine.
Even when a small part of you knows it isn't.
A few days later, something happened.
It was small.
Almost meaningless.
At least that's what I thought at first.
I sent her a message.
She saw it.
No reply.
I waited.
Then another message appeared.
Not from her.
From a mutual friend.
"You and Payel aren't talking much these days, right?"
I stared at it.
My heart sank slightly.
"We are."
The person responded:
"Oh. I thought something happened."
I frowned.
"Why?"
There was a pause.
Then:
"Nothing. Just asking."
I stared at those words for a long time.
Just asking.
But why ask?
Why now?
Why had they noticed?
I put my phone down.
I tried to ignore it.
But my mind had already started working.
Maybe Payel had told someone something.
Maybe she was upset with me.
Maybe someone had said something to her.
Maybe...
I stopped.
I was doing it again.
Overthinking.
I didn't want to become that person.
The person who saw a problem in every silence.
So I decided to trust her.
I had always believed that trust meant giving someone the benefit of the doubt.
So I did.
At least, I tried.
The next time we spoke, I didn't ask anything.
I didn't question her.
I didn't bring up the changes.
I simply talked to her like normal.
And for a while, it worked.
She laughed.
I laughed.
We talked.
And for those few minutes, I forgot everything.
Maybe I had been wrong.
Maybe nothing had changed.
Maybe there really was nothing behind the shorter messages.
Maybe this was all inside my head.
I wanted that to be true.
More than anything.
But then, just before we ended the conversation, she said something that stayed with me.
"I'll talk to you later."
I smiled.
"Okay."
She paused.
Then said,
"Take care."
I don't know why those two words felt different.
Maybe because she usually said them.
Maybe because I was already looking for signs.
Maybe because once you become afraid of losing someone, even ordinary words start sounding like warnings.
I didn't know.
So I smiled.
"You too."
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
The room was quiet.
For some reason, I felt uneasy.
I didn't know what was happening between us.
I didn't know whether there was actually a problem.
I didn't know whether Payel was slowly becoming distant.
And I definitely didn't know whether someone had said something to her.
All I knew was that something had changed.
Something small.
Something I couldn't name.
And perhaps that was the most dangerous kind of change.
Because when you know something is wrong, you can fight it.
You can ask.
You can explain.
You can fix it.
But when you don't know what is wrong...
you start creating answers yourself.
And sometimes, the answers we create are far more painful than the truth.
I looked at my phone one last time before putting it beside my pillow.
Maybe tomorrow would be normal.
Maybe she'd message me like she used to.
Maybe we'd laugh again.
Maybe I'd realize I'd been worrying for nothing.
Maybe...
there was no misunderstanding at all.
I closed my eyes.
But somewhere deep inside me, a small voice whispered:
Something has changed.
And for the first time, I was afraid to find out what it was.
To be continued...