Some mistakes are harmless.
Sending a meme to the wrong group chat. Forgetting your umbrella when the clouds are clearly threatening you. Calling your teacher “mom.”
But some mistakes…
They can shatter your reality in a single second.
That evening, I made one of those mistakes.
---
It was already a heavy day.
College was loud — too many voices, too many unfinished assignments, and too many feelings I’d buried under sarcastic jokes and group projects.
Arjun Sharma was the problem.
And, somehow, also the solution.
The guy had become a fixture in my life — not by force, but by familiarity. Lab partner. Debate rival. Class clown. Crush I never admitted to — not even to myself, not out loud.
Except maybe… to Priya.
Priya was my best friend, emotional vault, and safe place all rolled into one. Every time I felt something too big to hold inside, she got a late-night message. She was the only one who knew how long I’d been quietly falling for Arjun — since first year, maybe even before that. The day he defended me in class without making a show of it. The way he remembered I hated coconut in sweets. The way he looked at me like I was an unsolvable puzzle he enjoyed trying to understand.
But I never dared to tell him.
---
That night, I was mentally drained and emotionally done.
I stared at my phone, feeling the pressure of months — maybe years — of silence crushing my chest.
I opened my chat with Priya and typed:
> "I can’t keep pretending. I like him, Priya. I think I always have. Even when I laughed at his dumb jokes. Even when he asked for help on assignments like a child. Even when I said I didn’t care. I care. A lot. It’s killing me."
I hit send.
I waited for that rush of relief that usually came with emotional honesty.
But instead, I felt cold.
Because when I looked again… I wasn’t on Priya’s chat.
I was in Arjun’s.
No.
No no no no no.
This wasn’t happening.
I stared, horrified, willing the screen to change. Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe it hadn’t sent.
But then I saw them.
Blue ticks.
He’d read it.
My blood froze. My mouth went dry. The world slowed down.
I had just confessed to Arjun Sharma — in full, embarrassing, detailed honesty. Not a flirty hint. Not a vague message.
A confession.
The kind that couldn’t be unsent.
---
I didn’t know how long I sat frozen. Seconds? Minutes?
Then his name lit up my screen.
Typing…
I could barely breathe.
Then it stopped.
Then again:
Typing…
Then it vanished.
What was he doing? Laughing? Screenshotting it for his friends? Figuring out how to reject me gently?
My phone buzzed again.
> "Meet me at the park. 10 minutes."
That was all.
No punctuation. No emoji. No explanation.
Just a place. And a countdown.
My mind reeled.
I wanted to hide under my bed for the next six years. But something stronger than fear pulled at me — curiosity, maybe. Or hope. Or just the need to know.
I grabbed my hoodie, slipped into my sandals, and ran.
---
The park was half-lit by tired lamps and twilight. Familiar, yet strange. I hadn’t been there in weeks, but it used to be our hangout spot after lab hours — under the tall gulmohar tree, where we’d once argued about Greek mythology and accidentally shared a sandwich.
I saw him before he saw me.
Standing there. Hands in his hoodie pocket. Leaning against the tree. Still. Silent.
I walked slowly, every step echoing in my head.
When I reached him, he turned.
His face was unreadable. Not angry. Not amused. Just… quiet.
"Hey," he said, his voice soft.
"Hi," I managed, heart racing.
A beat passed. Then another.
"So," he said, still holding that calm expression, "you didn’t mean to send that message to me?"
I shook my head slowly.
"It was for Priya. I… I didn’t mean for you to read it."
Another pause.
I looked at my shoes.
"But I did mean every word."
Arjun didn’t speak immediately.
He just looked at me, his expression unreadable, his eyes flickering like they were fighting with words.
"You meant it," he finally said.
His voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t surprised.
It was soft — like it had been waiting.
I nodded.
There was no point pretending now.
"I tried not to," I added, my voice cracking.
"Tried so hard not to like you. You’re too loud. Too confident. You steal my fries. You walk like you own every room."
He gave the smallest laugh, but it faded quickly.
"But then," I continued, eyes locked on the grass, "you also listened when I spoke. Actually listened. You helped me when I didn’t ask. You remembered things. You… made it hard to keep pretending."
Silence.
I was terrified of what I’d see if I looked up.
So I didn’t.
Until he spoke again.
"Why didn’t you just tell me?"
I glanced at him.
"Because I didn’t want to lose you."
That was the truth.
Being his friend — even just that — had meant more to me than risking it all on a maybe. I would’ve rather stayed quiet than ruin the only connection I had with him.
His expression changed.
Something softened — his posture, his shoulders, his breath.
He stepped closer.
"Do you know how many times I almost told you?" he said.
My breath caught.
"Every time you laughed at my jokes. Every time you helped me with assignments and pretended you didn’t care. Every time I watched you get excited about history class like a nerd."
I stared at him.
He smiled — small, unsure.
"But I thought I was imagining it. I thought you didn’t see me that way."
"I did," I said.
"I do."
And then, for the first time since this entire mess began, there was peace. Not tension. Not fear. Just… quiet understanding.
He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time — and finally realizing I’d been there all along.
---
We sat under the gulmohar tree, not saying much after that. Just… existing in the same moment. He tossed pebbles. I picked grass. The sky turned darker, but the air felt lighter.
"So what happens now?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"Well, we could pretend nothing happened. Go back to being just friends."
I frowned.
"Really?"
He grinned.
"No. That would be the dumbest decision of my life."
I laughed. A real one. The kind that bubbled up from my chest and made my fingers tingle.
"We can take it slow," he said.
"But no more pretending."
He reached out and gently tapped my fingers. I let them stay there.
---
Two Days Later
Everything felt different — and yet, the same.
We still sat side by side in class. We still fought over stupid things like who got the last pen from the teacher’s drawer. He still stole my snacks. I still rolled my eyes.
But there was a new current now — a shared, silent rhythm.
He texted more often. Smiled more softly. Walked me to the library and waited outside when I was late.
And Priya?
She exploded when I told her.
> "You WHAT?! YOU TOLD HIM BY ACCIDENT AND HE LIKED YOU BACK?! WHY IS YOUR LIFE A NETFLIX SERIES AND MINE IS A MATH TUTORIAL???"
I laughed until I cried.
She was happy for me. And somehow, not even surprised.
> "I told you," she wrote,
"Some truths slip out when they can’t stay hidden anymore. That message didn’t go to the wrong person. It went exactly where it needed to."
---
One Week Later
I was walking to the canteen when he fell into step beside me.
"You free after class?"
I nodded.
"Good," he said. "There’s a new ice cream place. I wanna make it our first… not-quite-a-date date."
I raised a brow.
"‘Not-quite-a-date’?"
He smirked.
"We’ll call it a pre-date. Less pressure. Still includes ice cream. Everyone wins."
And somehow, that was us.
Flawed. Funny. Unwritten.
But finally, real.
---
Final Line (Full Circle Ending):
Sometimes, the message you were scared to send becomes the message that sets everything free.
Even if it was meant for someone else…
It might just land in the hands of the person who was waiting to read it all along.
-by.SAIRAM
React
