In the vast concrete jungle of K.C. Engineering College, where everyone either shouted to be heard or laughed loudly to be noticed, two shadows always stayed quiet. Anusha and Aditya — two invisible souls lost in the crowd.
Anusha was the girl who always sat at the corner bench of the classroom, drawing tiny stars in her notebook margins, her eyes darting around as if words themselves could hurt her. Her voice was soft, like wind brushing through leaves, heard only by those who truly listened. A dramatic soul in private, she had the habit of narrating her life inside her head, often scripting imaginary dialogues for moments that never happened. She overthought every conversation, every silence, every smile.
Aditya, on the other hand, was a walking paradox. An introvert with an ego, not because he thought he was better, but because he feared he wasn’t enough. His voice rarely spoke in crowds, but inside his mind, it never stopped. He had a strange desire — to be known, but not seen. He hated drama yet secretly yearned for someone who could break his silence without shattering his peace. He wanted love — but silently, privately, invisibly.
Their first real conversation wasn’t romantic. It was awkward.
“Is this seat taken?” Anusha had asked on a rainy Tuesday, pointing beside him in the library.
He nodded, then hesitated. “No. I mean—yes. I mean—no, it’s not. Sit.”
And that was it. A spark lit somewhere in the grey fog of routine.
Days turned to weeks, conversations turned into texts, and soon, their silences started speaking more than words. They shared playlists, memes, overthought texts, and long, unsent messages. One night, when the power went off in the hostel, Anusha called him instead of texting. That was the first time he heard her laugh.
She confessed to liking the way he scribbled in his margins during lectures. He admitted he noticed how she always tied her hair when she was nervous.
He wasn’t used to being seen. She wasn’t used to being understood.
And that made everything dangerous.
When Aditya kissed her for the first time — inside an empty classroom with trembling hands and hearts louder than thunder — it wasn’t fiery passion. It was stillness. A breath held for too long finally exhaled.
But reality wasn’t as kind as fantasy.
Aditya insisted they keep their relationship private. “People don’t need to know. They ruin things,” he’d say.
At first, Anusha agreed. But over time, it hurt. She felt like a secret, not a lover.
Her drama emerged in private. “Am I not enough to be claimed?” she whispered once, teary-eyed in his hostel room.
He didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know how. His underconfidence wore the mask of ego.
They drifted, then pulled back again, like tides fighting gravity. Their connection was raw, delicate, and utterly real.
And then, one night—
Anusha received an anonymous message with a picture.
Aditya. With another girl. Smiling. Her head on his shoulder.
She froze.
Her mind raced. Overthinking. Overanalyzing. Every single moment. Every word. Every silence.
“Who is she?” she texted him. No reply.
She waited. Minutes felt like lifetimes.
He finally replied.
“We need to talk. Meet me behind the library. 11 PM. Alone.”
Shivering, confused, betrayed, Anusha went.
He was already there, his face unreadable.
She stood still. “Who is she?”
He looked at her — the one girl who saw him for who he was — and then quietly said:
“You were never supposed to find out like this.”
Her heart dropped. Her lips trembled. “Find out what, Aditya?”
He looked away. “It wasn’t supposed to happen… but it did.”
Before she could respond, loud footsteps echoed behind them.
A shadow appeared.
“Aditya?”
Anusha turned.
Her world collapsed.
The other girl.
Alive. Present. Crying.
Aditya stared between both of them.
Fade to black.
---
To Be Continued…
---
Part 2 coming soon...
Who is the other girl?
Did Aditya cheat, or is something deeper going on?
Can Anusha forgive him — or is this the end of their quiet love?
