The Yes I Didn’t Deserve
A simple “yes” leads to something you never saw coming.
That’s how it started. Not with love. Not with fate.
But with a plan.
A selfish one.
I didn’t fall for her laugh.
I didn’t notice the way she looked at the sky when she thought no one was watching.
No. I noticed her followers.
12.4k on Instagram.
Engagement like a mini-celeb.
And that smile — the kind that makes other people think you’re lucky just to stand near it.
I didn’t care about her.
I just needed attention.
Clout.
A glow-up story.
So I asked my friend to dare me to do it — propose to her during the school fest.
It’d be filmed. Posted. Maybe it’d go viral.
I had nothing to lose.
---
I found her by the art board, painting tiny cherry blossoms on a dull grey canvas.
“Aanya?” I said.
She looked up. Quiet. Curious.
“Hi. I… I like you. Will you go out with me?”
I expected confusion. Laughter. A flat no.
But she tilted her head, studied my face, and said:
> “Yes.”
---
That yes?
It should’ve been the beginning of a fake love story.
Instead, it became the beginning of my guilt.
---
She didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Didn’t post about it.
Didn’t show me off.
She just started showing up.
Lunch. Walks. After-class silence.
She never tried to impress me. She listened.
And every time I made up a reason to talk about me, she looked genuinely interested.
That made it worse.
Because I knew I wasn’t.
---
One day, she handed me a drawing — my face, sketched in pencil, eyes sharper than in real life.
“You made this?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I like seeing people beyond the version they act like.”
That stung.
Because I was acting — the whole time.
And the worst part?
She was real.
---
I tried to break it off.
Tried to tell her, “I don’t think this is working.”
But before I could say it, she whispered:
“I know I’m not like the others.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You thought I’d say no, right? That I’d be the shy girl too scared to date someone like you.”
Her eyes didn’t waver.
“I said yes because I thought maybe… just maybe… someone saw me for more than my art. My posts. My silence.”
She paused. “But you didn’t.”
My heart stopped.
“You knew?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I’m not stupid, Aarav. I’ve been used before. Just never so politely.”
I wanted to disappear.
But then she said the thing I never expected.
> “Still… I wanted to see if something fake could become real.”
---
And it did.
That night, I deleted the video. The bet. The comments.
I told her everything.
And for some reason…
She didn’t walk away.
---
We started again.
Slow.
Careful.
This time, without lies.
We sat by the river and shared our childhood scars.
We spent hours in the library, not reading — just being.
She taught me how to shade with charcoal. I taught her how to play chess.
I fell.
Hard.
And I hated that I hadn’t meant to.
---
One evening, under a sky full of purple clouds, I asked her:
“Why didn’t you just shut me down the first day?”
She smiled. The saddest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Because everyone wants someone to say yes to them. I just wanted to see if I could survive saying yes to someone who didn’t mean it… and maybe change the ending.”
---
Our story didn’t go viral.
But it went deep.
No fireworks. No titles.
Just two people who found something real in a place neither expected.
---
Then came the day she left.
Not for someone else.
Not because of a fight.
But because her parents were moving across the country.
She didn’t cry.
She just kissed my cheek and said:
> “You turned the worst thing into something worth remembering.”
And like her art — she left without finishing the canvas.
---
We texted for a while.
Voice notes. Random memes.
But distance, time, life — they do what they always do.
Fade things.
Until one day, I saw her account deleted.
Just gone.
And I realized that maybe she had outgrown this part of her story.
Maybe I was just a page she’d turned.
---
But I still have that drawing.
Still look at it sometimes when I need to remember how real “fake” can become.
It started with a lie.
But it ended with something better than love:
Truth.The Yes I Didn’t Deserve
A simple “yes” leads to something you never saw coming.
That’s how it started. Not with love. Not with fate.
But with a plan.
A selfish one.
I didn’t fall for her laugh.
I didn’t notice the way she looked at the sky when she thought no one was watching.
No. I noticed her followers.
12.4k on Instagram.
Engagement like a mini-celeb.
And that smile — the kind that makes other people think you’re lucky just to stand near it.
I didn’t care about her.
I just needed attention.
Clout.
A glow-up story.
So I asked my friend to dare me to do it — propose to her during the school fest.
It’d be filmed. Posted. Maybe it’d go viral.
I had nothing to lose.
---
I found her by the art board, painting tiny cherry blossoms on a dull grey canvas.
“Aanya?” I said.
She looked up. Quiet. Curious.
“Hi. I… I like you. Will you go out with me?”
I expected confusion. Laughter. A flat no.
But she tilted her head, studied my face, and said:
> “Yes.”
---
That yes?
It should’ve been the beginning of a fake love story.
Instead, it became the beginning of my guilt.
---
She didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Didn’t post about it.
Didn’t show me off.
She just started showing up.
Lunch. Walks. After-class silence.
She never tried to impress me. She listened.
And every time I made up a reason to talk about me, she looked genuinely interested.
That made it worse.
Because I knew I wasn’t.
---
One day, she handed me a drawing — my face, sketched in pencil, eyes sharper than in real life.
“You made this?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I like seeing people beyond the version they act like.”
That stung.
Because I was acting — the whole time.
And the worst part?
She was real.
---
I tried to break it off.
Tried to tell her, “I don’t think this is working.”
But before I could say it, she whispered:
“I know I’m not like the others.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You thought I’d say no, right? That I’d be the shy girl too scared to date someone like you.”
Her eyes didn’t waver.
“I said yes because I thought maybe… just maybe… someone saw me for more than my art. My posts. My silence.”
She paused. “But you didn’t.”
My heart stopped.
“You knew?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I’m not stupid, Aarav. I’ve been used before. Just never so politely.”
I wanted to disappear.
But then she said the thing I never expected.
> “Still… I wanted to see if something fake could become real.”
---
And it did.
That night, I deleted the video. The bet. The comments.
I told her everything.
And for some reason…
She didn’t walk away.
---
We started again.
Slow.
Careful.
This time, without lies.
We sat by the river and shared our childhood scars.
We spent hours in the library, not reading — just being.
She taught me how to shade with charcoal. I taught her how to play chess.
I fell.
Hard.
And I hated that I hadn’t meant to.
---
One evening, under a sky full of purple clouds, I asked her:
“Why didn’t you just shut me down the first day?”
She smiled. The saddest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Because everyone wants someone to say yes to them. I just wanted to see if I could survive saying yes to someone who didn’t mean it… and maybe change the ending.”
---
Our story didn’t go viral.
But it went deep.
No fireworks. No titles.
Just two people who found something real in a place neither expected.
---
Then came the day she left.
Not for someone else.
Not because of a fight.
But because her parents were moving across the country.
She didn’t cry.
She just kissed my cheek and said:
> “You turned the worst thing into something worth remembering.”
And like her art — she left without finishing the canvas.
---
We texted for a while.
Voice notes. Random memes.
But distance, time, life — they do what they always do.
Fade things.
Until one day, I saw her account deleted.
Just gone.
And I realized that maybe she had outgrown this part of her story.
Maybe I was just a page she’d turned.
---
But I still have that drawing.
Still look at it sometimes when I need to remember how real “fake” can become.
It started with a lie.
But it ended with something better than love:
Truth.The Yes I Didn’t Deserve
A simple “yes” leads to something you never saw coming.
That’s how it started. Not with love. Not with fate.
But with a plan.
A selfish one.
I didn’t fall for her laugh.
I didn’t notice the way she looked at the sky when she thought no one was watching.
No. I noticed her followers.
12.4k on Instagram.
Engagement like a mini-celeb.
And that smile — the kind that makes other people think you’re lucky just to stand near it.
I didn’t care about her.
I just needed attention.
Clout.
A glow-up story.
So I asked my friend to dare me to do it — propose to her during the school fest.
It’d be filmed. Posted. Maybe it’d go viral.
I had nothing to lose.
---
I found her by the art board, painting tiny cherry blossoms on a dull grey canvas.
“Aanya?” I said.
She looked up. Quiet. Curious.
“Hi. I… I like you. Will you go out with me?”
I expected confusion. Laughter. A flat no.
But she tilted her head, studied my face, and said:
> “Yes.”
---
That yes?
It should’ve been the beginning of a fake love story.
Instead, it became the beginning of my guilt.
---
She didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Didn’t post about it.
Didn’t show me off.
She just started showing up.
Lunch. Walks. After-class silence.
She never tried to impress me. She listened.
And every time I made up a reason to talk about me, she looked genuinely interested.
That made it worse.
Because I knew I wasn’t.
---
One day, she handed me a drawing — my face, sketched in pencil, eyes sharper than in real life.
“You made this?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I like seeing people beyond the version they act like.”
That stung.
Because I was acting — the whole time.
And the worst part?
She was real.
---
I tried to break it off.
Tried to tell her, “I don’t think this is working.”
But before I could say it, she whispered:
“I know I’m not like the others.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You thought I’d say no, right? That I’d be the shy girl too scared to date someone like you.”
Her eyes didn’t waver.
“I said yes because I thought maybe… just maybe… someone saw me for more than my art. My posts. My silence.”
She paused. “But you didn’t.”
My heart stopped.
“You knew?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I’m not stupid, Aarav. I’ve been used before. Just never so politely.”
I wanted to disappear.
But then she said the thing I never expected.
> “Still… I wanted to see if something fake could become real.”
---
And it did.
That night, I deleted the video. The bet. The comments.
I told her everything.
And for some reason…
She didn’t walk away.
---
We started again.
Slow.
Careful.
This time, without lies.
We sat by the river and shared our childhood scars.
We spent hours in the library, not reading — just being.
She taught me how to shade with charcoal. I taught her how to play chess.
I fell.
Hard.
And I hated that I hadn’t meant to.
---
One evening, under a sky full of purple clouds, I asked her:
“Why didn’t you just shut me down the first day?”
She smiled. The saddest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Because everyone wants someone to say yes to them. I just wanted to see if I could survive saying yes to someone who didn’t mean it… and maybe change the ending.”
---
Our story didn’t go viral.
But it went deep.
No fireworks. No titles.
Just two people who found something real in a place neither expected.
---
Then came the day she left.
Not for someone else.
Not because of a fight.
But because her parents were moving across the country.
She didn’t cry.
She just kissed my cheek and said:
> “You turned the worst thing into something worth remembering.”
And like her art — she left without finishing the canvas.
---
We texted for a while.
Voice notes. Random memes.
But distance, time, life — they do what they always do.
Fade things.
Until one day, I saw her account deleted.
Just gone.
And I realized that maybe she had outgrown this part of her story.
Maybe I was just a page she’d turned.
---
But I still have that drawing.
Still look at it sometimes when I need to remember how real “fake” can become.
It started with a lie.
But it ended with something better than love:
Truth.
React
