It was one of those nights when sleep felt like a stranger. The clock ticked past 1 AM, then 2, and my thoughts grew louder with each passing minute. Overthinking had become a routine. But that night, one thought kept returning—what if I posted my stories on Instagram?
For hours, I wrestled with the idea. A cycle of yes-no-yes-no echoed inside my head. Eventually, I whispered a quiet yes to myself. That was all it took.
I created the account.
With hopeful fingers, I uploaded my stories. But the digital world didn’t care. No likes. No views. Nothing. In a moment of desperation, I started following people randomly, hoping someone would notice. That’s when I received a message:
"Who are you?"
I’d seen that type of message before. I wasn’t interested in replying. But it came again.
"Where are you from?"
This time, I responded. “Delhi,” I typed, keeping it simple.
She replied, “Patna. I’m in a hostel 💀”
I smiled to myself. The emoji almost felt like a humble brag. A voice inside me chuckled—Flexing hostel life? Try spending ten years in one.
We talked for just a few minutes. She was in Class 10 and mentioned she had a night prep class soon. I casually acknowledged it and put the phone down. My mind was already overloaded. I decided to go out for a walk and clear my head.
Sitting alone in a quiet park, our conversation echoed in my thoughts.
Class 10. Hostel. Patna. Night prep.
It hit me all at once—She might be from JNV.
That realisation pulled me into a memory I had tucked away months ago.
Seven months earlier, I had attended an NCC camp in January. Unlike others who came in groups, I kept to myself, determined to stay focused and detached. But on the very first day, I noticed a girl in a light brown jacket.
She stood out—not just because of her height, but because there was something different about her. Everyone else faded into the background, but she didn’t.
Still, I reminded myself, No attachments. Stay focused.
Days passed. One afternoon, I had a short but memorable conversation with the Camp Commander. Later, during a badminton match, I saw her again. Her team was winning, my school was losing—but she looked... sad.
Genuinely sad.
Everyone else on her side was celebrating, but she stood still, lost in her own thoughts. I kept watching, puzzled. I wanted to ask her, Why are you sad when your team is winning?
But I never got the chance.
Before the camp ended, we were called back to school due to exams. It all ended too fast. I returned, but that image of her—silent, in that light brown jacket—stayed with me.
I didn’t know her name. Only that she was from JNV Patna . Slowly, I convinced my heart to forget her.
But now, sitting in that park under a quiet sky, something stirred.
if the girl who did chat with me is from JNV then she might help me to find her...
On impulse, I texted:
"Are you from JNV Patna?"
She replied, “Yes.”
Immediately, I sent: "Did you come to the NCC camp?"
She responded: “Yeah.”
My heart skipped. I asked, “Who’s the tallest in your class?”
She paused and then said, "Why are you asking? Who are you?"
This time, I told her about myself. I explained everything—my school, the camp, and the moment I saw the girl in the brown jacket. She said there were two tall girls in her class—and she was one of them.
Curious, I opened her Instagram posts for the first time. One photo caught my attention. It wasn’t clear—but something about it pulled me in. Still unsure, I asked, “Can you send me a clearer picture?”
She refused.
"I don’t know you," she said bluntly.
A little disappointed, I told her she could sleep now, and left the chat.
Forty-five minutes later, at 1:45 AM, my phone buzzed.
A message.
She had sent me a YouTube link.
"I’m wearing a brown jacket in this video," she wrote.
Excited, I clicked it. At first, I mistook someone else for her. I told her, “I think that’s you.”
She replied, “No, you’re wrong. I’m someone else in the video.”
Then she added, “Skip to 8:10.”
I did.
And there she was.
The brown jacket.
The height.
That same quiet presence.
That moment.
For a second, everything froze. My heart stilled. All those camp memories returned in a rush—like a wave I didn’t see coming.
I almost cried.
I texted: “Oh… it’s you.”
Then added: “Nice to finally meet you.”
She told me that she was sad during that match because people were going to leave each other after few days as camp was about to end ...
I told her everything—the coincidence, the long-forgotten memory, the reason her sadness had haunted me for months. And then I ended with a simple:
“Goodnight.”
All of this—every twist, every moment—began with a single decision.
Just a simple yes to posting my stories on Instagram.
And somehow, that one small choice led me back to a moment I thought I’d never relive.
It brought me to her.
A simple yes…
And something I never saw coming.