Friday | 7:28 AM | Jaipur
The morning was unusually cool for a July day. The window beside Devansh's bed was open, and a soft breeze tickled the edge of the curtain. His phone buzzed once. Then twice. He rubbed his eyes, half expecting a work message.
But it wasn't.
Riya: "Good morning! Class at 9 again šŖ Need serious motivation to not skip."
His lips curled into a half-smile.She messaged first again.
That simple fact shouldn't mean much. But for Devansh, it did. In his quiet, disciplined world, full of responsibilities and minimal emotional expression, a message like that felt like a fresh breeze on a summer morning.
Devansh: "Motivation incoming. Attend the class and I promise a handwritten poem tonight."
Riya: "Omg are you serious? You write poetry???"
Devansh: "Guilty š Not much of a secret, though. It's how I breathe."
Riya: "Okay, now you HAVE to share one. No backing out."
He could almost hear the playful challenge in her voice.
Devansh: "Only if you attend all your classes and send me proof š"
Riya: "Deal. You're evil."
He laughed quietly.
What was happening?
Why did this light-hearted teasing feelā¦ important?
He hadn't even seen her in person. Her voice was still only text to him. But he was already beginning to map the rhythm of her replies, the shift in tone when she teased, the subtle hesitation when she got personal.
10:45 AM
Work was slow that morning. Devansh kept checking his phone more than usual.
It wasn't impatience.It was curiosity.Was she smiling when she replied? Was she thinking of him the way he found himself thinking of her between lines of code and server reports?
His phone buzzed.
Riya:[Photo] ā A classroom board with half-drawn diagrams."As promised š I deserve the poem now."
He smiled wide.
Devansh: "Okay, okay. Here's one from my journal. Don't laugh."
"She speaks in silence, yet the wind listens,Her eyes hide storms, but her soul glistens.And though she walks with careful pace,The world slows down to watch her grace."
Riya: "Devanshā¦"
She didn't say more for two minutes.
Thenā
Riya: "That's beautiful. I don't know why, but it made me feel warm. Safe."
He stared at the words.
Warm. Safe.
He never thought his poetry could do that for someone. Especially not someone like herāso focused on her goals, yet carrying stories behind her eyes.
Devansh: "I'm glad. Maybe poetry was meant to be shared after all."
5:32 PM
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Devansh had a short Zoom meeting and a client demo that ran overtime. But in between it all, he thought about her again.
What was she doing now?Studying again? Talking to her sister? Sneaking snacks into her room?
He didn't know much about Riya yet. Not her favorite song. Not her favorite movie. Not her worst memory.
But he knew this: she was beginning to occupy space in his thoughts without asking for it.
9:41 PM
Devansh: "So... teacher. How many hearts did you break today with your smart answers?"
Riya: "Oh please š I was too busy understanding micro-teaching methods."
Devansh: "Nerd."
Riya: "Poet."
Devansh: "TouchƩ."
Friday | 10:07 PM | Hostel Terrace, UP
The sky tonight was half-covered in clouds. A few stars peeked through, but the wind was strongācomforting. Riya wrapped her dupatta tighter as she leaned on the old, rusted railing of the terrace.
She had come up here every evening since her first year in college. It was the one place where the noise of the hostel faded, and her thoughts could roam free.
But tonight, her thoughts had one name.
Devansh.
He was soā¦ gentle. She had never met a boy who didn't flirt shamelessly or force interest where it wasn't invited. Devansh didn't ask her for photos. Didn't ask about her past. Didn't make her feel like she was supposed to impress him.
He justā¦ spoke. And more importantly, listened.
His poem.Those words had stayed with her all day.
"Her eyes hide storms, but her soul glistensā¦"
She didn't know if he meant it for her. But it felt like it had been written for the version of her she never showed anyone.
How could someone see her so clearly, without really knowing her?
Back in her room, she opened Instagram and scrolled up their chat. Her fingers hovered, then she typed:
Riya: "Heyā¦ can I ask you something?"
He replied almost instantly.
Devansh: "Of course."
Riya: "Why did you message me that day? I mean... out of everyone."
There was a pause. Her heart thudded a little louder.
Devansh: "Because you looked like someone who believes in something bigger than herself. And I don't see that often."
Her breath caught.
It wasn't the answer she expected. But it was the answer that feltā¦ true.
Riya: "You're strange. But in a good way."
Devansh: "I'll take that as a compliment."
That night, as she turned off her phone and lay under the thin hostel bedsheet, Riya felt a quiet flutter in her chest.
She didn't know what this was yet.
But it didn't feel like the beginning of a mistake.
It felt like the beginning of something she could believe in.