700 ᏦᎥᏝᎧᎷᏋᏖᏒᏋᏕ ᏗᏇᏗᎩ

Chapter 9: Shadows After School

The days grew shorter, and the pressure of the upcoming 11th public exams began looming over the students like a silent storm. Teachers became stricter, workloads heavier, and the campus buzzed with tension. For most, this period meant shutting out distractions and burying their heads in textbooks.

But for Harshan and Ishwaani, it marked the quiet blooming of something unspoken.

Though the chatter and gossip had faded with time, Harshan remained firm in his request: they would not talk during school hours. Not in the corridors. Not in class. Not even during breaks.

"Ishwaani," he had said one evening as they walked toward the junction near their homes, "I don't want people watching us. I just... feel safe when it's just us. Away from everyone."

She had nodded, understanding.

And so, their secret bond thrived in the after-school hours, like a hidden garden that bloomed only in the twilight.

Most evenings, once Dharan was picked up and the school gates emptied, Harshan and Ishwaani would meet near the side road—a spot quiet and away from wandering eyes. They would walk together under the fading sun, sometimes talking about studies, sometimes about random things like why pani puri felt magical only on dusty roads or which Tamil movie scene made them both cry.

One day, as they passed by a narrow alley lined with Gulmohar trees, Ishwaani said, "Do you ever feel like we’re the only ones who know what’s actually happening in our own story?"

Harshan smiled, glancing up at the fiery blossoms. "Sometimes I feel like we’re writing a story no one else gets to read."

Their conversations were simple yet deep—filled with small glances, laughs, silences that felt comforting, and emotions neither had learned to name.

They studied too. Occasionally, they sat by the corner bench in a nearby park, discussing physics diagrams or solving chemistry equations. Ishwaani loved biology, and Harshan often got stuck in organic chemistry. She would lean over his notebook, pencil in hand, and say, "Not like that! See, this carbon wants three bonds, not four!"

And Harshan would chuckle, "Looks like this carbon is just like me—wanting more than I should."

She’d look at him with a mock glare and then burst into laughter.

Some days, they wouldn't talk much. They’d walk quietly, the silence between them never heavy. Ishwaani sometimes hummed old film songs. Harshan listened, never interrupting.

Despite the looming exams, they made these little moments sacred.

Chapter 9: Shadows After School

One evening, after a particularly tough school day filled with revision tests and scolding teachers, Harshan looked more drained than usual. They sat on the stairs of an old shop that had long been closed.

"You okay?" Ishwaani asked softly.

He didn’t answer for a while.

Then, quietly, he said, "Everything feels like it’s falling apart. At home… school… myself. But when I’m here, with you, it feels... bearable."

She looked at him with quiet intensity and took his hand, just briefly.

"Then let’s make this our space. No matter what happens elsewhere."

He nodded. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

That evening, as the wind picked up and the sun dipped below the buildings, they parted ways with a smile and a strange calm.