700 ᏦᎥᏝᎧᎷᏋᏖᏒᏋᏕ ᏗᏇᏗᎩ

Chapter 12: School-Library-Gate-Terrace

The next morning, Harshan walked into school with an unexplainable buzz in his heart. As he entered the corridor near the library, he noticed Ishwaani a few steps ahead. Just as she turned to look back, their eyes met—and for the first time

She turned away.

Ishwaani looked away almost instantly, a flush of pink blooming on her cheeks. Harshan froze, the brief glance enough to send his heart racing. It was the first time she had turned away in embarrassment like that .it lingered with him through the morning.

It was Dharan’s idea to meet at the library.

"No one goes to the library during exam week," Dharan had said with a wink. "It’s the quietest place in the whole school. Perfect for studying. Or... whatever else you two call studying."

Harshan raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m just telling you what I saw. No teachers. No students. If someone wants quiet revision…” Dharan shrugged and let the silence speak the rest.
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Sunlight filtered in through the tall glass windows, washing over the reading tables like golden waves. At one of those tables, sitting quietly with her head bent over her notes, was Ishwaani.

Harshan stood at the edge of the aisle for a moment, taking in the way the light lit her hair like strands of molten honey.

“Hey,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She looked up—and smiled.

No words followed. No jokes. Just that look. That shared peace.

For the rest of the week, the library became their quiet retreat. The air around them was thick with the unspoken. Side by side, they revised in silence, passing pens and sharing the weight of their studies with small gestures—a bottle of water, a glance, a barely-there grin when one of them got an answer right.

Chapter 12:  School-Library-Gate-Terrace

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The school library, now echoing only the rustle of pages and distant murmurs, became their secret haven. Between thick reference books and dusty novels, they sat at opposite corners of the same table. Sometimes facing each other. Sometimes side by side.

“I never liked studying at home,” Harshan said softly one afternoon, eyes fixed on his chemistry textbook.

“Why?” Ishwaani asked, spinning her pen between her fingers.

“I get distracted… or bored… or both.”

She grinned. “You mean you miss me.”

He looked up, surprised, and chuckled. “You’re not entirely wrong.”

Those hours were sacred. No one interrupted. They didn’t need many words. A few stolen glances, a playful nudge with an eraser, or whispering answers in a hushed tone — it all made the weight of exams feel lighter.

When the final bell rang, they'd part ways without drama. Harshan would wait at the gate, pretending to scroll through a blank notebook while watching Ishwaani walk to her sister’s bike. As she climbed on, she would always turn and glance back—just once.

A soft smile.

Then she’d ride off.

And Harshan would begin his slow walk home, his chest full of everything he couldn't name.

But the terrace was where they truly lived.

Every evening, as the golden hue of dusk settled over the rooftops, they'd meet in secret above the world. The city hummed quietly beneath them—cars crawling, crows flying home, mothers calling out for dinner—but none of that reached them. Up here, they were cocooned in their own stillness .It had become their hidden ritual. Their evenings were spent sitting on opposite terraces, separated by just a short gap between their homes.