I didn't know this is how it begins.
Not with grand confessions.
Not with conversations.
Not even with certainty.
Just a look.
And a girl—stupid enough to believe it meant everything.
—
I was never this girl.
Not the kind who waits at the window.
Not the kind who notices footsteps, or memorizes timings, or feels her heart race over something so small it can barely be called something.
But somehow—
I became her.
Hopelessly.
Quietly.
Without even realizing when it started.
—
Every morning, before college, I went downstairs to help my father at the shop. Same routine. Same lane. Same people passing by.
And across the lane—
there was him.
Zafar.
He worked nearby. Always doing something. Always there. Always just far enough to not matter.
And yet—
he started to.
—
At first, it was nothing.
Then it became noticing.
Then waiting.
And then—
it became everything I didn't want to admit.
—
I started looking for him.
Every morning.
Before even placing my bag down.
Before even speaking to my father.
My eyes would search—
as if they had a mind of their own.
And when I found him—
something inside me would settle.
Like, okay.
He's here.
And somehow—
that was enough.
—
I never spoke to him.
Never stood close enough to hear his voice.
Never knew anything real about him.
But I knew the way he stood.
The way he looked up sometimes.
The way his eyes met mine—
and then immediately left.
—
And I built a whole world out of that.
Like a fool.
Like a girl who had never felt this before.
—
The first time I smiled—
I didn't think.
I just did it.
A soft, stupid smile.
The kind you give without permission.
And then—
I waved.
As if that was normal.
As if I had the right.
—
And for one second—
I thought it meant something.
—
The next day—
he ignored me.
—
I still smiled.
Still waved.
Because I thought—
maybe he didn't notice.
Maybe he was busy.
Maybe—
maybe.
—
The second day—
he ignored me again.
Saw me.
And chose not to see me.
—
And still—
I didn't stop.
I didn't question it.
I didn't think, why is he doing this?
I didn't think, maybe this is wrong.
I didn't think anything that made sense.
—
Because I was already gone.
Already lost in something I didn't understand.
Already a lover girl—
the kind I used to laugh at.
—
Instead of questioning him—
I questioned myself.
—
Maybe I imagined everything.
Maybe I'm stupid.
Maybe no one looks at me like that.
Maybe no one ever will.
—
And that thought didn't make me angry.
It made me quiet.
It made me small.
It made me feel like I had reached for something that was never meant for me.
—
That night—
I cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just—
softly.
Like someone who already expected this.
—
"Why did you even think…" I whispered to myself.
Why did you think someone would look at you like that?
Why did you believe it?
—
Because I didn't like myself.
Not enough to believe I could be liked.
—
And still—
the next morning—
I went downstairs.
—
Because hope doesn't leave that easily.
Especially not in someone like me.
—
I told myself I wouldn't look.
I told myself I wouldn't care.
I told myself I wouldn't try again.
—
And then—
I looked.
—
And there he was.
—
And just like that—
everything I promised myself broke.
—
But this time—
I didn't smile.
Didn't wave.
Didn't try to be seen.
—
I just looked—
for a second—
and then looked away.
Like I had finally learned.
—
But I hadn't.
—
Because the moment I looked up again—
he was already looking at me.
—
And he didn't look away.
—
For the first time—
he stayed.
—
And then—
he smiled.
—
Soft.
Real.
Like it had always been there.
—
And then—
he waved.
—
And I—
I swear—
I forgot everything.
—
The two days.
The tears.
The doubt.
The way I had felt so small.
—
All of it disappeared.
Like it never existed.
—
Because that's how stupid I was.
How hopeless.
How completely, emotionally gone.
—
One smile—
and I was back.
—
No questions.
No hesitation.
No why did you ignore me?
No what does this mean?
—
Nothing.
—
Just feeling.
—
My heart raced like it had been waiting for this moment its entire life.
The butterflies came back—
louder,
stronger,
almost overwhelming.
—
And I smiled back.
Of course I did.
Like an idiot.
Like someone who didn't know how to protect herself.
—
That whole day—
I felt like I wasn't walking.
Like I was floating.
Like something inside me had finally been chosen.
—
Even when I looked at myself—
I didn't feel that same quiet disappointment.
For once—
I didn't hate what I saw.
—
Because someone else had looked at me—
and smiled.
—
That was enough.
More than enough.
Too much, probably.
—
That night—
I couldn't sleep.
—
Not because I was sad.
But because I kept replaying it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
—
His eyes.
His smile.
His wave.
—
And one thought—
so soft,
so fragile,
so dangerous—
—
Maybe he likes me.
—
And I held onto that thought—
like it was something real.
Like it was something I deserved.
Like it was something I didn't need to question.
—
Because this was my first time.
First time feeling like this.
First time falling—
without knowing how hard the ground could be.
—
And I didn't care if it didn't make sense.
Didn't care if it was too little.
Didn't care if it was all in my head.
—
Because I was already in love with the feeling.
—
And maybe—
that's the biggest lie of all.
—
Not his eyes.
Not the moment.
—
But mine.
—
Because I wasn't seeing him clearly.
I was seeing what I wanted to believe.
—
And still—
I smiled into the dark,
holding onto something that might not even exist—
—
like a lover girl
who didn't know
how to stop
once she started.