6th Day — A Poem, a Smile, a Beginning
Spring leaned in closer today.
The wind was gentle, playful even, as if nudging me to open the pages of myself just a little more.
I sat under the gulmohar tree near the library steps, my diary open on my lap.
Today, I didn’t write to escape.
I wrote because I wanted him to know what he meant.
Not directly.
But in the way poets speak — softly, secretly, in metaphors.
I scribbled lines between doodles and fallen petals:
> “If spring has a soul,
it hides in your voice.
Not loud — but light.
Not bright — but brave.”
I didn’t notice he was near until a shadow crossed my page.
He peered down with his usual half-curious, half-teasing grin.
> “Are you writing about me?”
My breath caught.
He had that ability — to disarm my defenses without even trying.
I didn’t pretend.
Didn’t dodge or deny.
I looked up and smiled — not shy this time, not scared.
Just… soft.
> “Maybe I am.”
He froze for a second.
Not shocked, not smug.
Just quiet.
And then… he blushed.
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
A boy who had held all my darkness — now glowing from one small truth.
I closed the diary slowly, gently.
He didn’t ask to read it.
He just sat beside me.
Like he always did — not needing proof of my thoughts.
Just choosing to exist inside them.
We didn’t talk much after that.
But we didn’t need to.
The poem had said enough.
The smile had answered the rest.
And I?
I realized something I hadn’t dared to believe before:
He wasn’t just someone who comforted my sadness.
He was someone who made me believe that spring didn’t come once a year —
sometimes, it walked in quietly, sat next to you…
and stayed.
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7th Day — I Told Him
Last day of spring.
Not on the calendar — but in the way endings announce themselves through silence.
The school year was changing.
People were talking about holidays, exams, goodbye notes.
But I…
I only thought of one thing:
Him.
Would he still sit beside me tomorrow?
Would he still find me under cherry blossom trees when they weren’t blooming anymore?
I didn’t want to wonder.
So I climbed the rooftop after school.
Where the sky touched the earth with a little more honesty.
And where he had once said, “Even sadness can bloom.”
He joined me — as if he knew.
The wind danced between us.
We both looked ahead, not at each other.
And then, I did what scared me most:
I turned to him.
My hands trembled in my lap.
But my voice — it didn’t.
> “I don’t know what this is,” I said.
“But you feel like poetry in a world full of noise.”
He didn’t interrupt.
> “And I… I think I have a crush on you.”
There it was.
Out.
No longer folded between diary pages.
No longer hidden under metaphors.
I waited.
For rejection.
For confusion.
For silence.
But instead…
he reached out and gently held my hand.
Not with possession.
Not with promise.
Just presence.
And for the first time in a long time,
I didn’t feel like a girl full of wounds.
I felt…
beautiful.
Spring ended that day.
But something else had begun.
A feeling.
A hope.
A quiet kind of love.
I fall in love and peace.
His smile comforts me.
Chapter ends.
So all the readers and viewers thanks for your support.I was new on this app but because of your support for my 1st novel 7thdays of spring.
The story ends here.
