Saturday morning began like any other — birds chirping lazily, the neighborhood aunty sweeping her courtyard, and the gentle hum of college kids catching the last hour of sleep. But for Ayaan, sleep had been a stranger all night.
Eisha's sticky note had turned his world upside down. Tucked neatly inside the literature book, with that familiar teasing tone, it told him one thing — she read his letter.
And she hadn't rejected it.
She hadn't said she felt the same, either. But for Ayaan, even the smallest signal from Eisha was worth a thousand declarations.
At exactly 11:05 AM, he stood at her door, nervous energy crackling beneath his calm expression.
Eisha opened it after the third knock, holding a coffee mug in one hand and a raised eyebrow in the other.
"Late," she said, stepping aside to let him in.
Ayaan smirked. "You didn't even tell me the time."
She shrugged, setting her mug on the living room table. "Exactly. You should've guessed it. You know my coffee schedule better than I do."
He chuckled. But beneath the humor, both of them felt it — the tightness in their chests, the weight of too many words unsaid.
They sat across from each other on the couch, not too close, not too far.
"So…" she began, playing with the rim of her mug. "That letter."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to," he said quickly. "I just… I wanted you to know."
She looked at him, her eyes softer than usual. "But I want to say something."
He waited, his fingers tightening on the edge of the cushion.
"I've always known you were more than just the boy next door," she said slowly. "I just didn't want to admit it to myself. I was scared that if we changed… we'd lose everything."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "And now?"
"I'm still scared," she confessed. "But maybe… not as much."
Ayaan smiled gently. "Good. Because I was terrified when I wrote that letter. I rewrote it four times."
Eisha laughed, the sound easing the tension in the air. "You should've seen your handwriting on that envelope. You wrote my name like it was an exam paper."
He grinned. "It felt like an exam."
They both laughed. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the awkwardness dissolved. What remained was the comfort of two people who had walked the same path from childhood — only to find that their destinations were never different after all.
They spent the next few hours talking — really talking.
About their fights in school over candy, the time Ayaan cut Eisha's doll's hair and blamed the dog, the time Eisha cried when Ayaan caught a fever after playing in the rain. They talked about first crushes, dreams they never admitted, the college group projects, the accidental touches, the nights when both stared at their ceiling wondering if the other felt it too.
"Why didn't you ever say something?" she asked.
"I thought you'd punch me," he replied, chuckling.
"I still might," she warned playfully. "Especially if you ever write songs for Simran again."
His smile faded slightly. "Hey… I'm sorry about that. I never wanted you to doubt what I feel for you."
She nodded. "I know now. But it hurt, Ayaan. Because… I thought if you ever loved someone, it would be me."
He reached out, brushing her hand lightly. "It is you. It was always you."
Her fingers closed around his, the silence speaking louder than any confession.
Outside, the sky had turned golden. Evening was settling in.
Their conversation had changed them — not completely, but enough.
They still hadn't said "I love you." No grand gestures, no filmy climax. Just a couch, two old friends, and hearts cautiously opening.