The next few days blurred into the same rhythm of school—bells, classes, jokes, and small whispers. Yet something had shifted, quietly, almost invisibly.
Honey would sometimes glance toward Priyanshi, and instead of instantly turning away, she'd meet his eyes for a second before looking back at her notebook. No words, no big gestures, just… an acknowledgement.
In the canteen, she usually stood at the side, waiting for the rush to clear. Honey, while with Ayush, found himself slowing down too—just enough that their paths crossed, enough that he could nod a quiet "hi." She nodded back.
During English, Pinglaaa asked Priyanshi to read out a stanza. Her voice was soft, uneven at first, but steady enough to carry across the room. Honey caught himself listening more to her tone than the words of the poem. When she finished, a few students chuckled, but Honey scribbled in his notebook: "stronger than she thinks." He never showed it, but the thought stayed.
One morning, Honey dropped his pen by accident, and before he could reach, a pale hand picked it up and slid it onto his desk. Priyanshi didn't even wait for a "thanks." She just walked back to her bench. Honey stared at the pen for a moment longer than necessary, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
It wasn't friendship yet. Not in the loud, obvious way of jokes and constant talking. It was something quieter—like footsteps in a corridor you don't notice until they're right beside you.
The next morning drifted in like any other—sunlight sneaking through the classroom windows, desks creaking as bags hit them, and the same murmur of voices filling the air. Honey slid into his usual seat, pulling out his notebook.
Priyanshi was already there, a few benches away, head slightly bent as she flipped through her pages. She didn't notice him at first—or maybe she did, but didn't show it.
Honey sharpened his pencil slowly, more for something to do than for the lead itself. He stole a glance toward her. For half a second, her eyes flicked up, meeting his, before both of them looked back down instantly. Nothing said. Nothing obvious. Just a glance.
When the chemistry teacher began dictating notes, Honey found himself trailing off halfway through an equation. He looked up in frustration, only to notice Priyanshi's notebook moving steadily, her handwriting neat and controlled. Without thinking, he leaned slightly to catch up. She noticed. A tiny pause. And then—without a word—she shifted her notebook just slightly to the side. Enough for him to see.
Honey mouthed a soft "thanks". She didn't reply, but the corner of her lips almost moved—maybe a ghost of a smile, maybe nothing at all.
Later, during the short break, when the room buzzed with jokes and laughter, Honey sat sketching small lines on the margin of his notebook. Priyanshi walked past to sharpen her pencil. For a second, she slowed, eyes catching the page.
"Your lines… they're uneven today," she said softly, almost like a passing thought.
Honey looked up, startled. "Oh… yeah. Guess I'm distracted."
Priyanshi gave a short nod, dropped the shavings into the dustbin, and walked back without another word. But Honey's chest was oddly warm at the casual remark.
He didn't realize it, but these invisible threads—shared notes, stolen glances, a one-line comment—were pulling them closer, knot by knot.
The lunch bell rang, and the classroom emptied halfway in seconds—students rushing to the canteen, some heading for the courtyard, others loitering in the corridor. Honey stayed back, unpacking his tiffin quietly. Uday left with Tanmay and Aryan, leaving the benches behind almost silent.
Across the room, Priyanshi remained in her corner, opening her lunch slowly. For a while, only the rustle of wrappers and the distant noise from the corridors filled the air.
Honey glanced once, then again. His mind buzzed—should I? what if it's awkward? what if she thinks I'm weird?—until finally, he spoke without giving himself another chance to stop.
"You… uh, finished that physics assignment?" His voice was careful, low.
Priyanshi looked up, surprised he'd spoken first. She nodded once. "Yeah. You?"
"Still working on it," Honey admitted. "Got stuck on the derivation of the theorem."
She tilted her head, thought for a moment, then said, "It's easier if you… split it into smaller steps. Don't try to memorize everything together."
Honey nodded slowly. "Makes sense. I'll try it that way."
For a moment, silence returned, but not the heavy kind—it felt lighter. Honey pushed a bit further. "Do you… always sit here? Alone, I mean."
Priyanshi's gaze flicked down to her notebook. "I don't like noise much," she said simply.
Honey gave a faint smile. "Yeah… me neither."
No one else noticed, no one else cared, but for the two of them, those few sentences mattered. They weren't jokes or casual nudges—they were words, real ones, carving out space where silence used to be.
Honey returned to his food, mind oddly calmer. Priyanshi opened her book again, but now and then, her eyes flicked up toward him, as if testing the air between them.
Without realizing it, the wall between them had already cracked.
The next day in Chemistry, while Shraddha mam scribbled reactions on the board, the usual whispers floated through the class—Tanmay muttering jokes to Aryan, Puneet rolling his eyes, Kartikey buried in notes.
Honey sat with his notebook open, eyes flicking between the board and his page. Out of habit, his gaze drifted once across the room. Priyanshi was at her usual bench, writing carefully, head low.
When mam turned to solve another problem, Honey leaned slightly, whispering across the small gap, "Got the first equation?"
Priyanshi looked up, her pencil paused. She nodded, sliding her notebook just enough for him to glimpse the balanced reaction.
"Thanks," he whispered, scribbling quickly.
She didn't say anything else, just gave a small nod before returning to her page. Honey smiled faintly—her silence wasn't rejection. It was just… her.
Later, in English, while Pingla sir read a poem aloud, Honey found his attention slipping again. He doodled in the margin, absent lines turning into half-formed shapes. When he glanced up, he caught Priyanshi glancing his way for the briefest second before she lowered her eyes back to her notebook.
It wasn't conversation. It wasn't loud. But something in those short exchanges, those tiny glances, carried more weight than any joke thrown across the classroom.
By the last bell, as everyone hurried out, Honey didn't rush. He noticed Priyanshi leaving with her bag slung over her shoulder, same as always—quiet, almost invisible. And yet, to him, she wasn't invisible anymore.
The corridors were buzzing, footsteps echoing as students spilled out after the bell. Honey closed his bag and followed ayush up to the school gate.
Honey walked slowly, his bag tugging at his shoulder, the empty road stretching ahead. But his head wasn't quiet. It never was.
Should I text her now? His hand brushed the edge of his phone in his pocket, then pulled back like it was hot. No, no… that's desperate. Chill. Just wait.
He looked down at his shoes, watching them scuff against the ground. But what if she's waiting too? What if she thinks I don't care?
.. Okay… maybe just "hi." That's safe. But then what? She says "hi" back and… dead silence. Stupid.
A stone on the road caught his eye, and he kicked it ahead, hard. What if she thinks I'm weird for texting first? Or boring. Yeah, boring's worse. What if she only talked to me because it was polite? What if she doesn't actually want to…
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Stop it. Just stop. You're doing it again. Overthinking. Always overthinking.
Still, his mind spun up little scenes on its own—him typing out a message, her laughing at it, her ignoring it, her blocking him even. Each one played out like a movie he didn't want to watch.
Honey reached home around 3:10. The air inside was still, the kind of quiet that only existed between school and evening.
He tossed his bag on the couch, loosened his tie, and headed straight to his room.
Changing into a loose T-shirt and shorts, he grabbed a plate of biscuits and chips, filled a glass of water, and sat on his bed with his tablet.
A soft glow lit up the room as the anime intro started — familiar music, quick colors, the rhythm of escape.