Location: Shifa Medical College – Lecture Block A, 2025
Eshmal stood quietly near the notice board, tracing her finger across the pinned timetable.
Her breath hitched when she reached her name.
Group B – Lecture Room 1.
A few lines below, typed neatly in the same font…
Amaan Raza.
She stared at it for a moment too long.
A flutter rose in her chest soft, hesitant, warm.
This wasn’t just a coincidence.
It was something heavier.
Like fate had paused… rewound… and replayed an old film reel, dusting off a chapter she’d tucked away.
The corridor smelled of fresh paint and sanitizer.
Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked toward Lecture Room 1, heart loud in her ears.
She pushed open the wooden door slowly, carefully.
The classroom stretched wide. Tiered white desks under fluorescent lights.
A soft hum of conversation. A few students already seated flipping through orientation sheets, laughing nervously.
And then… she saw him.
Second row. By the window.
One hand lazily flipping the page of his handbook, the other resting on his thigh.
The door creaked.
His head lifted slightly.
Their eyes met.
Not too long.
Not too direct.
Just enough.
A flicker. A pause. A pull.
She looked away first.
Composed outside, storm inside she made her way to the row behind him.
Diagonally to his left.
Just close enough to see him when she wanted… but far enough not to be noticed.
Her heart betrayed her calm.
Dhak. Dhak. Dhak.
It beat like it remembered something her mind wasn’t ready to accept yet.
***
💭 FLASHBACK: Class 4 – Winter
She remembered that winter morning when, during math paper prep, the teacher changed her seat.
Right next to him.
Her heart had fluttered the entire time.
She chewed on the tip of her pencil to act busy.
Their elbows brushed.
Once. Twice. She didn’t move away.
And then she dropped her ruler.
He picked it up quietly.
Placed it on her desk without a word.
Their fingers nearly touched.
She held her breath.
In that silent second, she wished the period would never end.
The class had been freezing, but her palms were warm.
That one brush of closeness had lit something small and secret inside her.
And when the teacher moved her again the next day
She didn’t complain.
But something inside her missed that seat.
***
⏳ BACK TO 2025
The door slammed again. This time, the professor had entered.
Books thudded against the front desk.
A loud “Good morning” filled the room.
Introductions began.
Her palms grew damp.
And then…
He stood.
“Amaan Raza. Islamabad. Medical Sciences.”
Calm. Low. Soft-spoken.
His voice carried no tremble just quiet confidence.
His eyes swept over the class.
Brief. Detached.
But for half a second,
They stopped.
On her.
No one else noticed.
But she did.
Then he sat.
Now her turn.
She rose.
“Eshmal Raheel. Also Islamabad. Medical Sciences.”
She didn’t look his way.
But her cheeks warm. Her voice steady.
Their names. Back-to-back.
Just like 2016.
***
💭 FLASHBACK: Class 2 – The Bus
She used to sit behind him in the school bus,
Peeking at his drawings on the back of his diary.
Little cartoons.
Stick figures.
Superheroes in scribbled capes.
Once, she smiled at one.
He noticed.
The next day, he drew a boy with a wide grin…
And a girl with long hair beside him.
He never said it was them.
She never asked.
But she always… knew.
One day, he left his diary behind by accident.
She held it like it was made of glass.
For one full minute, she debated reading the last page.
But she didn’t.
She tucked it back into his bag before he saw.
Even then, she knew… some things are meant to be held in silence.
***
🌿 Present Day – Same Class, Same Silence
The lecture began.
Words floated in the air.
Formulas. Introductions. Medical jargon.
But both of them… were somewhere else.
Eshmal’s fingers traced lazy doodles on the corner of her notebook
Tiny petals of a flower blooming with memory.
Amaan tapped his pen twice against the desk.
Glanced toward the window.
His face turned just slightly.
But in the reflection of the glass
Her.
He saw her.
Watching.
Silent.
Still.
She didn’t look up.
But her lips curved just a little.
And maybe he noticed.
Maybe he didn’t.
But the string between them tugged.
Their story had begun again.
Not with a conversation.
Not with a message.
But in a room full of strangers…
With a look.
***
To be continued…
---
💬 Author’s Corner:
Isn’t it strange how people can return to your life with the same silence they once left it with?
I enjoyed a lot while writing these parts adding internal feelings of the characters also made my heart skip a beat.
This chapter was about recognition, about unspoken awareness. About the kind of memory that never completely fades.
***
🧡 I love interacting to you people so kindly support express your thoughts. Comment below. As I'm new to this support if you like the story vote it and follow for more stories like this.🥹✨
1. If you were in Eshmal’s place, would you speak to Amaan or stay silent like she did?
2. What do you think Amaan is feeling when he sees her?
3. Which flashback touched you more—the ruler moment or the diary drawing?
Chapter 2 ends...🥹🤌🏻
Wait for chapter 3 it will be so good.
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ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Strings Between Us
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