Ruhan sat alone today. The boys who laughed with him yesterday had moved on, leaving him in a silence that looked too familiar. I watched him for a second longer than I should. My heart was trying to be brave, my legs were trying to run away. Should I sit? Should I pretend I didn't see?
Loneliness is strange. It makes you scared of people, yet desperate not to disappear.
So I took a breath, picked up my bag, and walked toward his bench. I didn't say anything. Just sat quietly. Two silent people sharing one quiet bench… somehow, it felt less empty. Even if I told myself I only sat there because every other seat was taken, a tiny part of me knew that wasn't the whole truth.
Ruhan sat beside me, not saying a word. His bag touched mine. My heartbeat did stupid gymnastics. I stared at my notebook like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing on Earth. He shifted slightly. I pretended I didn't notice, but yeah, I noticed. My brain? Gone. Unresponsive. Restart pending.
"You could've sat anywhere else," he murmured, eyes still on the desk.
I shrugged lightly. "Everywhere else was full." A safe answer. A half-truth. A tiny secret between my chest and my courage.
He nodded. No smile. Just a small breath, like he was relieved and confused at the same time.
Silence again. Not the sad kind, not the heavy kind. More like the silence before rain. Quiet, soft, waiting for something to happen, even if no one says it.
I didn't know how to talk to him, so I didn't. Sometimes sitting is enough. Sometimes being there is louder than words.
Ruhan tapped the table once, then glanced at me from the corner of his eye.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
"Only when needed," I whispered, like the words might run away if I spoke louder.
His lips curved just a little—like he almost smiled, then stopped, scared he might break whatever quiet magic was sitting between us.
"Same," he murmured.
----A story by Pragati Priya 🤍