Chapter-2
Almost confession…
The Almost Confession
With time, Saarth and Saarya slipped into a rhythm. Their conversations turned effortless, their interests started overlapping, and somewhere in between, Saarya got too comfortable. So comfortable, she began flirting with him. Shamelessly, playfully and honestly, he played along too.
Those moments? They were fun.
The kind of fun that makes you forget the rest of the world exists.
And then there was their thing.
Every day, without fail, she would ask:
“College aayega?”
And every single time, Saarth would reply:
“No, documents lene jaana hai.”
And yet… he would still show up.
Every. Single. Time.
It became their little habit.
Her little sign.
Because Saarya always knew:
when Saarth said “no,” it somehow meant “yes.”
And honestly?
That was the cutest thing ever.
By now, everybody had started shipping them. The group could see it, even if Saarya pretended not to.
And of course, Riya — her best friend, her mirror — knew exactly how she felt.
Riya would laugh and say:
“You’re so blind, Saarya. Just admit it already!”
But instead of stopping her, Riya shipped them too.
Maybe even more than Saarya herself.
And then came the night of 30th August.
A midnight conversation.
One of those vulnerable hours where words slip out before you can control them.
They were talking, like always.
He was sharing pieces of his childhood, little fragments of who he really was.
And for a second, Saarya thought:
Maybe she had a special place.
Maybe this meant something.
So she confessed.
Not a direct confession.
Not some grand proposal.
Just a soft, trembling admission.
“Maybe… kuch feel ho sakta hai tere liye. Abhi sure nahi, but there’s this vibe, Saarth. Something feels different with you.”
It was her way of placing her heart on the table.
Half open.
Half guarded.
Hoping he would meet her halfway.
But Saarth…
Saarth was just friendly.
Just comfortable.
Just himself.
And Saarya?
She was already falling.
What happened next changed everything.
“Some truths are not loud; they’re whispered in midnight conversations, hoping someone will hear the unsaid between the words.”
Some heartbreaks do not come crashing like thunder.
They arrive gently.
Like a sigh hidden in the middle of a conversation.
This was one of those.
It was just another late night chat.
The kind that hums with soft silences and stolen glances over typing indicators.
The kind where Saarya smiled at her screen without realizing.
Where she forgot the time, the world, and sometimes… even herself.
And somewhere between the “tu bata pehle” and a nervous “tu bol,” she found herself asking a question she was not ready for the answer to.
“Tujhe kispe crush aaya?”
She expected a joke.
Or a deflection.
Or maybe even a:
“Saarya, tu hi toh hai.”
But instead —
“Haan. Riya.”
Riya.
One word.
Four letters.
Countless knives in her chest.
And no — it was not jealousy.
It was something worse.
Silence.
Because Riya was not just any girl.
She was her girl.
Her soul vibe.
Her comfort.
Her friend with whom she shared cold coffee and heartbreak theories.
The one who laughed with her, fixed her smudged lipstick, and knew exactly what “vo banda” meant every single time.
And Saarth… he did not know.
He did not know that he had just named the only person in the whole college Saarya would never compete with.
He did not know that even in her worst jealousy, she would still call Riya beautiful.
He did not know that his confession was not cruel.
Just untimely.
Because Saarya had already confessed a part of herself.
Maybe not the whole truth, but enough to leave herself vulnerable.
And now here she was, hearing that the one moment he did feel something — it was not for her.
She smiled.
Like always.
That same soft smile that hides twenty seven kinds of pain and one drop of leftover hope.
“Cute,” she texted back.
But her eyes?
They were quietly drowning.
It was not a huge heartbreak.
No loud cries.
No walls punched.
Just that ache.
The kind that only appears when you realize you were always the one feeling more.
But Saarya was not angry.
Not even a little.
She loved him too genuinely for that.
She told herself:
“Sometimes, people don’t choose you.
Not because you’re not lovable.
But because they haven’t learned how to see you yet.”
So she stayed.
Not in hope.
But in choice.
Because if her love needed to stay quiet for now, then quiet it would remain.
Because even if he never saw the storm inside her, she would never let it ruin the warmth between them.
And that was when the distance slowly crept in.
Teachers’ Day rehearsals happened.
More dance.
More chaos.
Less Saarth.
And even lesser “us.”
Their chats shrank into memes and dry goodnights.
The boy who once sent random roast voice notes now replied with “hmm.”
But Saarya?
She still kept showing up.
Quietly.
Kindly.
Like she always did.
One day while walking upstairs together, Saarth casually said something and she absentmindedly replied with “hmm.”
Saarth immediately looked at her.
“Kya hua teko?”
Fenish noticed too.
And before she could stop herself, Saarya muttered softly:
“Ignore toh tum hi maar rahe ho.”
Saarth laughed instantly.
That same classic Saarth laugh.
“Pagal hai kya? Rehearsals mein busy tha.”
And just like that, she exhaled.
He was not ignoring her.
He was just living.
And she was overthinking again.
Funny, honestly.
How she could dance in a crowd full of people, yet her heartbeat still aligned only with one boy in a denim shirt.
How she could laugh with ten friends, yet her eyes still searched for the boy with the black thread on his wrist.
Saarth never knew what she carried for him.
He never understood that every “Pagal hai kya?” from his side felt like a soft hand placed over an unhealed wound.
Careless.
But comforting.
Because love was never hidden in what he said.
It was hidden in what she felt whenever he existed in the same room.
And maybe…
that was enough for now.
Because some stories take time.
Some hearts take detours.
And some feelings grow silently until one day they bloom.
Of Kurta Coincidences, Selfies & Saarya’s Red Faced Destiny
5th September.
Teachers’ Day.
And somehow, the day everything felt a little more meant to be.
Okay, so first of all, no offense, but the performance?
Total mujra vibes.
Like I had expectations, okay? Some proper street style choreography. Something cool. Something that could actually make people say “damn.”
But nope.
What did we get?
Awkward steps.
Confused rhythm.
And Saarth dancing like he forgot he was a gym boy and not Govinda 2.0.
But was I judging him?
Absolutely not.
In fact, every time he made a move, even if it looked like a naagin possessed by cardio, I was the loudest one hooting:
“Oye hoyeeee!”
Yes.
I was that girl.
The one screaming too loudly in the audience.
The one zooming too much while recording.
The one pretending she was recording the entire performance when everybody knew she was recording only one person.
Saarth.
And just when I thought I was already embarrassing enough, fate decided to become filmy.
WE WERE TWINNING.
Like proper black kurta twinning.
Me in my last option black kurti that I almost rejected because it did not feel “Teachers’ Day worthy.”
And him?
Standing there in a black kurta looking like he walked straight out of some desi Pinterest board.
Ugh.
Destiny, relax.
My cheeks instantly turned tomato red.
And obviously, people noticed.
One of Saarth’s friends looked at me, smirked and said:
“Bhai usko dekh ke toh full blush maar rahi hai.”
Then another one added:
“Pyaari laal ho rakhi hai.”
BRO.
Dead.
Gone.
Buried alive.
There I was.
Red faced.
Heart racing.
Trying to pretend I had not just transformed into a walking Valentine emoji.
Then came the moment.
Our first selfie.
Too much sunlight.
Weird filter.
Bad focus.
But still.
Our first picture together.
Just us.
Nobody warns you that selfies can carry feelings.
That one photo became more than pixels for me.
It became proof.
Proof that he existed beside me long enough for a memory to happen.
Then came the group photos.
Pure chaos.
Everyone dragging everyone around.
And somehow, they pushed me right beside him.
Next to Saarth.
Next to my boy.
Not officially.
But spiritually.
And honestly?
Standing beside him felt strangely right.
Like the picture did not just click.
It clicked us.
The teasing started instantly.
“Ahemm Saarth Saarya!”
“Tum dono mein kuch toh chal raha hai!”
Everyone laughed.
Everyone noticed.
That invisible pull between us.
The kind of chemistry even stupid people can sense without subtitles.
Little glances.
Little smiles.
And my poor heart exploding at every accidental eye contact.
Then suddenly reality attacked again.
We were sitting at Square 1 stuffing snacks into our mouths like emotionally exhausted idiots when somebody suddenly screamed:
“GUYS PERFORMANCE!”
And instantly everybody started running toward the auditorium like confused NPCs.
But somewhere between black kurtas, blurry selfies, and chaotic running, one thought stayed stuck inside my head.
Maybe we were not just twinning outfits today.
Maybe destiny was trying to say something too.
⸻
Uski Nazar, Mera Chhupa Reaction
SAARTH
She was looking at me again.
Not in a creepy way.
Not obvious enough for everyone to notice.
But there was something in her eyes.
Something held back.
Like she wanted to say “I like you” without actually saying it.
Except she kind of already had.
Not directly.
Not with “I love you.”
But enough for me to understand.
And honestly?
I had no idea what to do after that.
Most guys enjoy attention.
Being liked feels good.
But this felt different.
Saarya did not look at me like I was just some gym guy with decent jokes.
She looked at me like she had already written an entire story around me.
And somehow, I was the lead.
And that scared me more than I would ever admit aloud.
So what did I do?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I just observed her quietly.
The way she laughed slightly louder at my stupid jokes.
The way she always tried standing near me in photos without making it obvious.
The way her face turned cherry red whenever somebody teased us.
I noticed all of it.
Even when I pretended not to.
Especially then.
Like how she always stood close enough to matter, but not close enough for people to question it.
How she blushed like hell whenever someone shipped us.
How she laughed at things that were not even funny just because I said them.
So how did I behave?
Normal.
Intentionally.
Painfully.
Normally.
Cracking jokes.
Roasting my friends.
Roasting her too whenever she got too quiet.
Because I did not want her realizing that I knew.
But somewhere deep down, I liked that she liked me.
Weird?
Yeah.
Maybe selfish too.
But in this loud group full of fake personalities and overhyped people, Saarya felt different.
Soft.
Honest.
Safe.
And honestly, that terrified me.
Because I am not made for soft things.
I break soft things.
And the last thing I wanted was becoming another reason she cried secretly at night.
So I kept things casual.
I never flirted back properly.
But I never pushed her away either.
When she walked beside me, I slowed down instead of speeding ahead.
When someone teased her about blushing, I laughed with everyone else but quietly looked away before my own expression betrayed me.
Because if I stared too long, I knew I would fall too.
And falling was never part of my plan.
Still, there was one truth I could never deny.
In a group full of faces, hers became the only one that felt familiar even before we had properly known each other.