Harshit pov :
The roar of the crowd, the thud of the ball – it was all a blur. The final moments of the game, the score tied, the last penalty kick resting solely on my shoulders. I took a deep breath, lining up the shot, my eyes fixed on the goal. This was it. This was my moment.
And then, just beyond the goalpost, almost as if she'd materialized out of the shimmering heat of the afternoon, I saw her. Preksha. She was laughing, smiling and chatting with her friends. Had sketchbook in her hands. My focus fractured. Why was she even there? A jolt went through me, a sudden, inexplicable shift in my concentration. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
My foot connected with the ball. It sailed wide. The whistle blew. Game over. We lost.
A collective groan rose from my teammates, quickly followed by the triumphant shouts of the opposing team. My stomach dropped. I stood there, rooted to the spot, the missed goal burning in my mind. How could I have let that happen?
Aarav, his face etched with confusion, jogged up to me. "Harshit! What happened? You never miss that shot!"
I couldn't answer. The words lodged in my throat. The image of Preksha, just beyond the goal, flashed again. I felt a strange mixture of frustration and a nascent, unsettling curiosity. Without a word, I turned and walked away from the stunned faces of my teammates, away from the victorious cheers, towards the small, empty stage at the edge of the playground. I sat down, my back to everyone, the weight of the loss pressing down on me.
Moments later, a shadow fell over me. Aarav. He sat down beside me, his brow furrowed with concern. "Harshit, what's going on? Is it about Preksha?"
I stiffened. Preksha. He always knew. Even before I did, sometimes. "No," I mumbled, my voice rough. "It's not about her." I tried to sound convincing, even to myself, but a part of me knew it was a lie. Her unexpected presence, that fleeting glance, had been the precise moment my focus had shattered.
Just then, a quiet voice drifted across the playground, carried by the gentle breeze. It wasn't loud, but it cut through the lingering sounds of the game. "I want peace."
My head snapped up. It was Preksha. She was walking away from her group of friends, a solitary figure moving towards the ancient banyan tree at the far end of the field. She found her usual spot, settling down alone under its wide, comforting shade, and almost immediately, her sketchbook was out, her fingers already moving, drawing.
I watched her, mesmerized. What was she sketching now? Was it something from the game? Or something entirely different, something only she could see? A strange thought flickered: Should I go there and watch her while she's sketching? The idea was absurd, yet compelling.
"So I was right, wasn't I?" Aarav's voice pulled me back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Preksha is your distraction. isn't?"he signed "Bro, don't try to deny it. I saw you shouting her name to return her book while you can give her book to other person to return it to her.'' he continue " If you like her then tell me. I am your best friend. Am I not?"
My jaw tightened. I couldn't deny it, not entirely. But it wasn't a distraction I understood. It wasn't like a crush, not in the usual sense. It was… different. Something deeper, more unsettling, like a sudden shift in the very air around me whenever she was near. I pushed myself to my feet, the urge to move overwhelming.
"Where are you going?" Aarav asked, his voice trailing after me.
I kept walking, my gaze fixed on Preksha under the tree. My steps were deliberate now, leading me towards that patch of shade, that pocket of quiet. "To find peace," I said, my voice perhaps a little louder than intended, loud enough that I knew Preksha, and her friends, could hear it.
As I approached, still some distance away, I saw Preksha lift her head, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment. A flicker of something—recognition? Curiosity?—crossed her face. And then, her friends, who had been watching her, started to repeat my words, playfully mocking her. "To find peace," one of them giggled, mimicking my tone. "She's always finding her peace, isn't she?" another added, their voices a low murmur of teasing.
My face flushed hot. Embarrassment, sharp and sudden, coursed through me. My declaration, intended for myself, had been overheard, twisted into a teasing jab at her. I felt like an idiot. Like a fool. I turned abruptly, my heart thudding, and almost ran from the playground, heading straight back to the familiar, less emotionally charged confines of the school building.
I burst into the classroom, a little breathless, and my eyes immediately landed on it. Prueksha's desk. And on it, a book. Her diary, I knew. It was a beautiful thing, old and worn, its cover intricately designed, a testament to countless hours of careful creation. My gaze lingered on it, a magnetic pull drawing me closer. I wanted to open it, to peek inside, to find some clue, some answer to the perplexing pull she exerted on me.
My hand reached out, hovering just above the cover. But I stopped myself. No. It wasn't right. It was hers, private. Without permission, it was an invasion. I pulled my hand back, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and self-respect.
I walked over to my own bench, and sank onto it, letting out a long, shaky exhale. My mind, usually so logical and decisive, felt muddled. I stared at her empty chair, the question echoing in the quiet classroom, a question I didn't dare voice aloud.
Why is she attracting me? Is there something between us? What is god planning?
The questions hung in the air, unanswered, unsettling. And I knew, with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified me, that I wouldn't rest until I found out.