Wednesday | 10:17 PM | Jaipur, Rajasthan
The low hum of Devansh's ceiling fan was the only noise in the small but neatly organized apartment he called home. A coffee mug, half full, sat beside his laptop. His dual monitors lit the room, still displaying lines of Python code from his last work task. The day had been long. Back-to-back client calls, two bug fixes, and an internal meeting that dragged way too long. But Devansh didn't complain. He had learned not to.
"Success isn't served to those who ask too many questions," his father once told him. Devansh didn't agree, but he understood the sentiment.
At 24, Devansh had carved a steady path in his IT career. Focused. Disciplined. Emotionally sorted—or so he liked to believe. He wasn't running from anything. No heartbreaks, no broken home, no haunting memories. Just a simple boy with big goals and very little room for drama.
Love?Never got a chance to even consider it seriously. Not because he didn't believe in it—on the contrary, he adored the idea. But between college, internships, a job, and proving himself to his family, love had always stayed in the backseat. Or maybe even in the trunk.
He opened Instagram absentmindedly as he leaned back on his chair. The Explore tab loaded with memes, a few reels of poets speaking verses that made him pause for a moment.
One post caught his attention.
It was a girl sitting under a tree on a college campus, holding a notebook and laughing candidly. The caption read:
"Someday, I'll be the teacher I never had."
Simple. Direct. Yet… something about it gripped him. He clicked into the profile. Riya._04. A public account.
Most of her posts were either photos with books, her hostel room decor, her younger sister, or small quotes like "keep going" or "you're allowed to rest, not quit." There was sincerity in her feed—not curated perfection, but real, grounded effort.
He paused for a moment, thumb hovering over the follow button.
He didn't usually do this.
But he tapped it.
Not even five minutes passed when his screen lit up.
"@Riya._04 has accepted your request."
Devansh hesitated again—then did what felt natural.
Devansh: "Hey. Hope you don't mind the follow. Just came across your post about becoming a teacher. It's rare to see someone speak about it with so much honesty. Thought I'd say hi."
He stared at the screen. Maybe it was a little too much. Or maybe—
Ping.
Riya: "Hi. Thank you 😊 Not many people care to notice things like that. So I appreciate it."
That was unexpected. Most people took hours—or days—to reply. But she responded within a minute.
Devansh: "You're welcome. Are you studying to be a teacher?"
Riya: "Yes. B.Ed student. 2nd year. I've wanted this since I was a child."
He smiled.
Devansh: "That's beautiful. It's nice to meet someone who knows what they want."
Riya: "Haha well, it's not always easy. But yeah… trying. You?"
Devansh: "Software engineer. Based in Jaipur. Originally from Ajmer. Living alone for now."
Riya: "Ohh okay! You stay alone? Isn't it lonely?"
Devansh: "Sometimes. But I prefer it. I get to think in silence 😄"
Riya: "You sound very mature."
Devansh: "Maybe just practiced at pretending."
Riya: "That's deep."
She added a thinking emoji, and he laughed softly to himself. It was an odd feeling—light, unexpected… good.
11:38 PM
Their chat continued—slow, casual. She told him about her hostel life, about missing her little sister back home, how her room had a leaking tap that no one was fixing, and how badly she wanted ice cream but didn't want to go out in her nightwear.
Devansh, on the other hand, told her about how the office pantry never had enough sugar in the coffee machine and how he spent half his Sundays doing laundry and cleaning instead of actually resting.
Their lives were different, yet parallel. Both a little tired. Both surviving. Both smiling more than usual that night.
12:07 AM
Riya: "I should sleep… class tomorrow at 9. Hostel gates shut at 10 so I sneak to the terrace for fresh air sometimes 😅"
Devansh: "You rebel. 😄 Sleep well. It was really nice talking to you."
Riya: "Same here. Goodnight Devansh."
Devansh: "Goodnight, future teacher :)"
He stared at the screen for a while, smiling. It was nothing. Just a conversation.
But not just a conversation.
It had been… refreshing.
The world outside remained as it was. Deadlines. Career goals. Family expectations. But tonight, for the first time in months, Devansh felt something stir quietly inside him—an unfamiliar calm, like the feeling after writing a perfect line of poetry that no one would ever read.