Three days passed faster than I expected. After the first exam, life slipped back into its usual rhythm—going home with my friend Shivis, talking endlessly about the paper, comparing answers, arguing over which question was trickier, and almost always ending with him insisting that he was right. He dropped me at home that day the same way he always did, revving his bike like it was some kind of victory roar.
Evenings became quiet again, except for the sound of our pens scratching against paper. Every night, I would walk to his house, our notebooks open, our water bottles beside us, and our minds slowly settling into exam mode. We studied, we guessed questions, we fought over silly things, and somehow those hours made the tension bearable.
Three days vanished in the blink of an eye.
And then came exam day.
The morning air felt different—not too cold, not too warm, but heavy with the silence that comes before something important. When Shivis arrived outside my house on his bike, he didn't even have to say anything. I just hopped on, adjusting my bag, and we sped toward the college.
But the moment we entered the campus, confusion hit us like a wall.
"Why is everyone scattered?" Shivis frowned.
"Bro... class numbers changed," I said, staring at the notice board where half the students looked like they had just seen ghosts.
We split up to search for our classrooms. My eyes scanned row after row of printed sheets until finally—I found my name. Classroom 204.
I walked there, my heart beating a little faster than usual. Not because of the exam… but because of one unexpected thought:
Would she be there?
The girl who sat beside me in the previous exam?
I reached the classroom and looked around.
Empty.
At least her seat was.
I tried not to feel anything—but something inside me dropped just a little.
I took my seat, pulled out my pens, arranged my sheet, pretended to revise, pretended to be completely normal.
And then…
Footsteps.
Soft. Not too fast. Not too slow.
A sound that carried a strange attention with it.
I looked up.
She walked in.
Not dramatically, not loud—just naturally. But somehow she still made the entire room shift for a moment.
She wore a full-sleeve T-shirt, simple but clean, fitting her in a way that made her look effortlessly confident. Her jeans trousers were plain, and her normal girl shoes made a quiet tap with each step. Her hair, just the way I remembered—short, not too short, ending around her shoulders, tied lightly but with strands falling freely near her face. She had that calm expression again, the one that made her seem like she was always thinking something but never saying it out loud.
She didn't look around at anyone. She came straight to her seat beside me, sat down, opened her bag, and began filling her sheet with a seriousness I admired more than I should have.
I tried to act like everything was normal.
But inside, something felt… unexpectedly alive.
The exam started. Pages flipped. Pens moved. Silence ruled over the entire classroom.
I focused on my paper—at least I tried to—until something unbelievable happened.
She nudged my elbow gently.
When I looked up, she slid her answer sheet toward me with a small, friendly movement.
She had exchanged her paper with mine.
Just like that.
My brain froze.
My heart paused.
My soul left my body for a second.
Why?
What is she doing?
Is this normal?
Is she… talking to me? Without talking?
But she didn't explain anything. She simply kept writing on the sheet in front of her—my sheet—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe she wanted to compare answers, maybe she wanted help, maybe she was confident and wanted to check mine—I had no idea.
I didn't say anything.
I couldn't.
I just checked her paper silently. She had written some answers already. And they were good. Better than mine, honestly.
We both wrote, exchanged, wrote again.
It felt oddly… comfortable.
Then she looked at one of my marked options and softly asked,
"Is this correct?"
Her voice was exactly the way I imagined it—calm, soft, not too high, not too low. Like she spoke only when needed.
"Yes," I replied.
She looked at the option again, then frowned slightly.
"Surely?"
"Yes," I repeated, this time with a tiny smile I tried to hide.
She nodded, satisfied, and continued writing.
But my mind wasn't writing anymore. It was running in all directions.
Should I say something?
Anything?
Ask her name?
Ask her… something?
But talking to girls was not on my skill list. Not even close. So I struggled inside my head for many minutes before courage finally poked me.
I leaned slightly toward her and whispered,
"Can we distribute work for the next paper?"
She paused for a moment, almost like she didn't expect me to speak. Her eyes widened just a little—hesitation, thought, calculation—and then she nodded.
"Yes," she said quietly.
"How many chapters?" I asked.
She replied, "First four for you… last four for me."
Her voice was gentle but steady. She meant it.
The bell rang soon after. The exam ended, and the room became noisy again. Students talking, chairs moving, bags zipping.
She packed her things slowly, then stood up to leave. I pretended not to watch her, but I absolutely did. Something in me hoped she would look back, even once—even accidently. I kept waiting…
But she didn't turn.
I laughed at myself inside.
Bro, you're imagining too much.
I walked out with the crowd, heading toward the bike stand where Shivis was already waiting. I stood there for a few minutes, just… observing. And then I saw her passing by with her brother's bike.
Did she notice? Maybe. Maybe not.
My mind kept replaying the moment like a scene in slow motion.
Then Shivis tapped my shoulder.
"Bro,A long way story had just started moving forward. who was sitting next to you?" he asked with his usual teasing grin.
I tried acting casual. "Nothing, bro."
He burst out laughing. "Nothing? Your face says everything!"
I groaned. "Just drive, idiot."
He dropped me home, still teasing all the way.
That night after dinner, I went to his house for our study session. It was impossible to focus because his teasing level had reached the sky.
"Bro, how does she look? Tell me honestly."
"I don't know," I lied.
"What's her name? Show me on social media," he said, shaking my shoulder dramatically.
"I don't even know her name, bro," I admitted, and for the first time that day, the reality hit me.
I didn't know her name.
I didn't know her batch.
I didn't know anything.
Just her presence, her calmness, her small smile, her soft voice, and the way she exchanged those papers like it was nothing—those were the only things I carried with me.
But somehow, those were enough to make her unforgettable.
The second meeting wasn't planned.
It wasn't expected.
And yet… it changed the way I looked at the next exam, the next day, and maybe the next part of my journey.
Because something had begun—quietly, unexpectedly, uncertainly—but undeniably.
"And just like that, an unexpected chapter of my life had quietly begun, hinting at something more."