It happened in the examination hall during the Class 8 exams—a time when tension hung in the air like fog, thick with the weight of silence and stress.
The school had just reopened after the long COVID break.
Masks were still in use, desks were spaced out, and everyone looked slightly unfamiliar, like strangers relearning how to be students again.
She sat in the second row, her heart racing, her pencil box organized with shaky fingers.
Math had always been her weakest subject, and the exam paper felt like a wall she didn't know how to climb.
But for a moment, her mind drifted from the question paper.
That's when he walked in.
Tall, calm, and slightly late, he entered the exam hall like he didn't mind the stares.
His black jacket clung to him as if it belonged there—half-zipped, revealing a dark T-shirt beneath. His glasses sat perfectly on his nose, giving him a serious, focused look.
But it was his face that caught her: the way his messy hair fell across his forehead, the sharpness of his jawline, the shape of his lips, and the slight puffiness around his eyes, as if he hadn't slept enough.
Their eyes met—for a second. Maybe two. Long enough to make her look away quickly.
She turned back to her exam paper, pretending to read the next question, but her mind was blank.
Her heart had picked up speed—not from anxiety about the test, but because of him.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him take his seat at the back, far behind her.
He didn't talk. Didn't fidget. Just sat, adjusting his sleeves slowly, taking out a black pen, and settling in.
The sunlight from the window fell across his desk, catching the veins on his hands, making them look even more defined.
She couldn't help herself.
She looked back—once, then again. Each time pretending to stretch her neck or glance at the clock.
But it was him she was watching. The way he rested his head on his hand. The way he sat like the exam didn't matter. Like everything around him was just background noise.
She noticed everything: his fingers tapping lightly, his quiet focus, the way his eyes scanned the room once, landing on her for just a breath before moving on.
Her heart stopped. He saw her. She froze in her seat. "What if he thinks I'm staring? What if he thinks I'm weird?" she thought, a flush rising to her cheeks. She tried to act normal, but inside, it was chaos.
And still, she kept looking. His presence felt oddly comforting. It wasn't love—no, not yet. It was curiosity. Admiration. Fascination.
She admired him silently—the boy who didn't know her name, who hadn't spoken a single word, who might never even glance her way again.
But she knew something had changed that day. Something had started. A small spark she didn't understand yet.
She didn't tell anyone.
Not even Ruqayyah, who hadn't come into her life at that time.
But even as she walked out of the exam hall that day, she carried him with her—not his name, not his voice, but the feeling.
That one glimpse. That one heartbeat.
And sometimes, that's all it takes to begin a story or a LOVE STORY.