When I opened my eyes, the room still felt heavy with sleep.

9:02 AM.
College.
I had missed my first lecture. Of course I had.
I reached for my phone lazily, expecting the usual clutter — group chats, college notifications, random reels.
5:10 AM
Yash: "Good morning Yasvi"
5:10. Of course.
 He wakes up as if the sun personally reports to him for duty, while I treat mornings like a vague suggestion.

I smiled at the screen, messy-haired and half-awake, realizing he'd sent that while I was still dreaming.
I typed back: "Good morningggg. Main uth gayi."
The typing bubble appeared instantly.
It was as if he'd been waiting in the margins of my day.
Yash: "College nahi hai kya aaj?"
Me:"Late ho gayi... already ek lecture miss ho gaya 😭😭"
The bubble vanished. 
Reappeared.
I could almost hear his voice—that specific blend of calm authority and hidden amusement.

Yash: "Late ho gayi matlab? Yasvi... 9 baj gaye."
Me: "Bas 2 minute aur sone wali thi... 3 ghante kaise nikal gaye pata hi nahi chala."
Yash: " Aap aur aapke '2 minute'."
I rolled my eyes dramatically at my empty room.
Yash: "Yasvi, get ready and have breakfast... don't end up missing your second lecture."
Me:"Yes sir 🫡"
After 30 minutes, I got ready for college and quickly grab a milk cake for breakfast cause it's karwachauth and i didn't wanted to trouble mumma since unka fast h aaj.
I took a e-rickshaw and was on the my way to college when his message popped up
" Breakfast Kiya?"
There it was again.
That tone. Not demanding. Not dramatic.
Just... caring.
I looked down at the half-eaten milk cake in my hand and smiled.
Me:"Haan ji. Milk cake. "
He replied within seconds.
Yash: "Bas mithai? Proper breakfast nhi hoti mithai "
I could literally imagine him standing in his shop, one hand on the counter, other hand holding his phone, forehead slightly creased.
Me: "Lecture mat do subah subah. Apne kya khaya?"
Yash: "Abhi nahi khaya. Busy ho gaya tha shop pe."
I straightened up in my seat, the wind from the rickshaw messing my hair.
Me: "Yashhh , Breakfast karo. Abhi."
Yash: "Okay. 10 minute mein ghar jaakar khata hoon. Promise."
Ten minutes passed.

 I found myself holding my breath until the screen lit up again.

Yash: "Khane baitha hoon. Dal chawal."
Me:"Good."
Yash: "Aapko itna kyun farak padta hai?"
My fingers stilled.
I could have joked. I could have been dramatic. Instead, the truth slipped out.
Me:"Pata nahi."
Yash:"Busy tha. Isliye reh gaya."
Me: "I know. Par next time mat rehne dena."
Yash:"aap ya breakfast?"
Me:"Both."
Then, a photo. A simple plate on a counter. A glass of water. His fingers just visible at the edge of the frame. I zoomed in—why do we do that? As if pixels could bring someone's presence into the room.
I look up from my phone and noticed I have reached my college.
I stepped out, paid the driver, adjusted my bag.
"Reached," I texted.
"Good. Lecture attend karo properly."
"Yes sirjii."
"Yasvi?"
"Haanji?"

"Lunch skip mat karna."

I smiled.

"Aap bhi nahi."

There was a pause after that.
Not awkward.J
ust the kind where both people are still there... just thinking.
Then—"Try karunga."
I smiled at that.
Not karunga.
Not a big promise.
Just try.
Fair.

I slipped my phone into my bag and walked through the college gate. The noise hit instantly — girls laughing,the canteen wale carrying their cooking stuffs to their kitchen.
Life moving like nothing important just happened.
During class, I texted him under the desk.
Me:"Bore ho rahi hoon."
Yash:"Focus karo."
Me :" Kr rhi huu."
Yash :" Jhooth"
Me :"Sachii "
And shared a pic of my notebook where some notes were written.
His reply came " handwriting aachi h "
I smiled .
A few minutes passed.
My phone buzzed again."Lunch me kya khaogi?"
I smiled softly.
"Abhi se planning?"
"Haan."
"Canteen ka kuch."
"Healthy."
" Chowmien khaungi ...it's healthy ..it have veggies"
Three dots appeared instantly.Then—
"Yasvi."
"jiii"
"Healthy khana khaya kro."
I stared at the screen.
"Chowmein me vegetables hote hain," I typed.
"Oil bhi hota hai."
"Thoda sa."
"Zyada."
I rolled my eyes.
"You sound like my mom."
"Accha hai."

"Matlab?"
"Kam se kam koi toh serious lega meri baat."
I paused.
"aapki baat main serious leti hoon."

A few seconds of silence.
Then—"Isliye toh bolta hoon."
That softened me instantly.I
 looked at my plate.
Steam rising.
Too much oil,
 Honestly, now I couldn't eat it without hearing his voice in my head.
"Fine," I typed dramatically. "Half chowmein. Half something healthy."
"Better."
"Khush?"
"Haan."

"Bas?"

"Abhi ke liye."

I shook my head, smiling.
Five minutes later—"
Khane baithi?"

"Haan."

"Photo."

"You don't trust me?"
"Bilkul nahi."

I laughed quietly and sent a picture.
Chowmein pushed slightly to one side.
Curd bowl added.
"Happy now?"
"Improvement."
"Dekha? Main effort karti hoon."
"I know."
That word again.
I know.
He doesn't overpraise.
He doesn't exaggerate.
He just... notices.
I took a bite.
"Achha hai," I typed.
"Slowly khao."
"Ji."

"Yasvi."

"Haanji?"

"aap khud ka dhyaan rakhogi toh mujhe kam tension hogi."

That line didn't feel casual.It felt honest.
"Tension hoti hai?" I asked.
"Haan."
"Kis baat ki?"
"Bas hoti hai."

I looked down at my food.
At my fingers holding the fork.
At the simple, ordinary afternoon.
And somewhere in that ordinariness—there it was.
Care that didn't demand.
Concern that didn't control.
Just presence.
I typed softly,
"Main try karungi."
Pause.
Then—"Main bhi."
No big confession.
No dramatic background music.
Just two people sitting in two different places
And both knowing—it's not just about food anymore.
After lunch, my next lecture dragged like it had personal issues with me. The professor's voice blended into white noise, and I found myself staring at the little "online" under his name.
He had probably finished eating by now. 
Maybe attending customers. Maybe playing game. Maybe talking to his friend when he stopped by .

I texted first.
Me: "Neend aa rahi h 😭"
He replied after a minute
.Yash: "Class me so jaogi?"
Me: "hanji"
Yash: "my little koala "
I smiled at the screen.
Me: "Indirectly sleepyhead bol rhe ho "
There was a pause.
Then—
Yash: "Yasvi."
My heart did that tiny, unnecessary flip.
Nobody calls me that.
Not at home.
Not in college.

Not even cousins.

Just him."

Haanji?" I typed.

"Subah se complain kar rahi ho."

"I'm not complaining."

"Thoda."

"Bas thoda sa."
"Drama zyada."

I gasped internally."Excuse me???"
He sent one line."Cute lagti ho jab complain karti ho."

I forgot I was in class.
I actually forgot where I was for three full seconds.
I typed. Deleted. Typed again.
"Main complain nahi karti."

"Kar rahi ho."

"Proof?"

"Screenshots bheju?"

"Yashhhhh."
There it was.The way I drag his name when I'm half-annoyed, half-smiling.
He didn't reply for a minute.
Then—
"Accha lagta hai."
I blinked.

"Kya?"
"aapka 'Yashhhhh'."
Oh.
Something about that felt... intimate.

Like he had been noticing it quietly all this time.

I lowered my head, pretending to write notes.But my lips wouldn't stop smiling.
Between lectures, I told him everything.
How Karvachauth at home feels soft and festive even though I don't fast.
How Mumma looked pretty in her saree in the morning.
How I stole milk cake from the kitchen like a criminal.
How I was updating my chapter last night and one scene made me almost cry.
Yash: "Kyuu?"
Me: "Because sometimes I give my characters feelings I never say out loud."
The silence that followed wasn't empty; it was heavy.
Yash:"aap itna andar rakhti kyun ho sab? Thoda bhi zyada hota hai kabhi kabhi."
Me:"Author hoon. Drama toh hoga hi."
Yash: "Drama alag hota hai. Pain alag."
He had read between the lines without me having to write a single one
.Me: "I'm fine. Sachii."
Yash: "I know. Bas jab roti ho na... toh mujhe bataya karo."

Me:"Main roz nahi roti."
Yash: "Main roz pooch nahi raha. Par jab bhi... bas 'Yashhhh' likh dena. Samajh jaunga."

The lecture ended, and the hallway noise rushed back in—girls laughing, the distant clang of the canteen. But I was still caught in the gravity of our chat.
Me: "Yashh. aap mujhe Yasvi kyun bulate ho?"
Everyone else—family, friends, professors—calls me Chhavi.
Yash:"Pasand hai. Jab bolta hoon na... lagta hai sirf main bol raha hoon."
My heart skipped a beat, a physical reaction to a digital sentence.
He wasn't just using a name;
he was carving out a space that belonged only to the two of us.
Me: "Thank you For caring."
Yash: "Default hai.  Aap ho toh care toh hogi hi."
I walked toward my next class, the world looking exactly the same, yet feeling entirely different. There were no grand confessions, no cinematic music.
Just a girl with a half-eaten milk cake and a boy at a shop counter, both knowing that "dal chawal" and "breakfast kiya?" were just different ways of saying something much bigger.
I slipped my phone into my bag.
Nothing in the hallway had changed.
The same walls.
The same noise.
The same ordinary day.
And yet—somewhere between dal chawal and half chowmein,
between Yasvi and Yashhhh,
I felt... chosen.
Not claimed.
Not promised.
Just quietly held.
And somehow,
that was where something real began.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hey sunshines!!!
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