Miss connection

AHAAN

The laughter from Samir's group still echoed in my ears as I walked away from the scene. I tried to shake it off, but a gnawing guilt tugged at my chest. I had seen the hope in Ishqi's eyes when she looked at me, and I had crushed it with my own laughter. I couldn't let them see me as weak or sympathetic towards her-it would ruin my image. But now, as I walked to my next class, the weight of my actions pressed down on me.
The day passed in a blur of lectures and socializing, but I couldn't get Ishqi out of my mind. Her tear-streaked face haunted me. I had never seen someone look so defeated, and it was partly my fault. I tried to focus on my friends, on Rhea, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Ishqi.
After classes, I headed to the gym to clear my head. The rhythmic thud of my feet on the treadmill and the pounding of my heart usually helped me focus, but not today. No matter how hard I ran, I couldn't escape the memory of her eyes, filled with hope and then betrayal.
Later, I found myself wandering the campus, not really knowing where I was going. I ended up near the library, where I'd seen Ishqi earlier. Part of me wanted to see her, to apologize, to somehow make things right. But I knew that wouldn't be enough. I had laughed at her, and nothing I could say would erase that.
As I turned a corner, I saw her again. She was sitting alone on a bench, her face buried in a book. Even from a distance, I could see the strain in her posture, the way she held herself together. I felt a surge of shame and anger-at Samir, at myself, at the whole stupid situation.
I walked over, my heart pounding. "Ishqi," I called softly, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in suspicion. "What do you want, Ahaan?"
Her voice was cold, and I didn't blame her. I deserved it. "I just... I wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have laughed."
She stared at me for a moment, then shook her head. "It's too late for that. You laughed with them. You made it worse."
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words hitting me like a punch. "I know, and I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want to look weak in front of them."
"Then you're just like them," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You care more about your image than about doing what's right."
I had no response to that. She was right. I had let my fear of looking uncool stop me from standing up for her. I took a step back, feeling the full impact of my actions. "I'm sorry, Ishqi. Truly."
She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed and returned to her book, dismissing me. I stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, before turning and walking away.
The rest of the evening was a blur. I went through the motions of hanging out with friends and pretending everything was fine, but my mind kept drifting back to Ishqi. I had messed up, and I didn't know how to fix it.
As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I made a promise to myself. I would find a way to make things right with Ishqi. I didn't know how yet, but I couldn't just leave things as they were. She deserved better, and I needed to be better.
The next morning, I woke up with a sense of determination. I dressed quickly, my mind already racing with ideas. I couldn't change the past, but I could try to be better in the future. I didn't know if Ishqi would ever forgive me, but I had to try.
I walked to campus, my steps lighter than they had been in days. I didn't have a plan yet, but I knew I had to start by being honest-with myself and with her. I spotted her across the quad, heading towards the science building. Taking a deep breath, I quickened my pace to catch up with her.
"Ishqi," I called, my voice steady.
She turned, her eyes wary. "What is it now, Ahaan?"
"I know I messed up," I said, meeting her gaze. "But I want to make things right. Can we talk?"
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But this better not be another joke."
"It's not," I assured her. "I promise."
We found a quiet spot near the library, and for the first time, I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction. It was a small start, but it was something. And I hoped it would be enough to begin mending the damage I had caused. We sat down on a bench near the library, and I could feel the weight of Ishqi's gaze on me. The usual confidence I wore like a second skin felt flimsy now, like a façade that could crumble at any moment.
I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Ishqi, I know that saying sorry doesn't fix what happened. But I really am sorry. I let my fear of what others would think get in the way of doing the right thing."
She looked at me, her expression guarded. "Ahaan, do you even understand what it's like? Every day I walk around feeling like I'm one step away from being humiliated. And yesterday, you proved that I can't trust anyone."
Her words stung, but I knew they were deserved. I nodded slowly. "I can't pretend to know what you go through. But I want to understand. I want to be better. I want to help, if you'll let me."
For a moment, Ishqi just stared at me, her eyes searching mine. Then she sighed and looked away. "It's not that easy, Ahaan. It's not about just saying you'll help. It's about showing it, day after day. It's about not caring what your so-called friends think."
I felt a pang of guilt, realizing how shallow my previous attempts had been. "I know. And I'm ready to show it. I want to stand up for you, even if it costs me my reputation. Because what happened yesterday, it wasn't right. And I don't want to be that person who just stands by anymore."
Ishqi seemed to consider my words. "Actions speak louder than words, Ahaan. If you really mean it, then you'll need to prove it. Not just to me, but to yourself."
"I will," I promised. "Starting now."
We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of our conversation hanging in the air. I could see the skepticism in her eyes, but also a glimmer of hope. It was a small sign, but it gave me the determination I needed.
The next few days were a test of my resolve. I distanced myself from Samir and his group, ignoring their jabs and comments. It wasn't easy-being on the outside was a new experience for me. But every time I saw Ishqi, I remembered why I was doing it.
One afternoon, I saw Samir and a couple of his friends approaching Ishqi in the quad. My heart pounded as I walked over, adrenaline surging through my veins. I couldn't let them hurt her again.
"Hey, Samir," I called out, stepping between him and Ishqi. "Leave her alone."
Samir raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's this, Ahaan? Decided to join the nerd club?"
I squared my shoulders, standing tall. "No, I just decided I'm done with the bullying. It's not cool, and it's not funny. Leave her alone, or you'll have to deal with me."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Samir laughed, but it sounded forced. "Whatever, man. If you want to ruin your reputation over her, that's your choice."
He turned and walked away, his friends trailing behind. I watched them go, my heart still racing. When I turned back to Ishqi, she was staring at me, her expression unreadable.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice soft.
"Because it was the right thing to do," I said simply. "And because I meant what I said. I want to make things right."
For the first time, I saw a flicker of something other than skepticism in her eyes-something like trust. It was fragile, tentative, but it was there.
Over the next few weeks, I made a conscious effort to befriend Ishqi. I sat with her in classes, defended her when necessary, and even joined her study groups. It wasn't about making a grand gesture; it was about showing her, day by day, that I was serious.
Slowly, the walls she had built around herself began to crumble. We started talking more, sharing bits and pieces of our lives. I learned about her love for science, her dreams of becoming a researcher, and the loneliness she felt every day. And she learned about my struggles too-the pressure to fit in, the fear of not living up to expectations.
One afternoon, as we sat in the library working on a project together, Ishqi looked up from her notes and smiled. It was a small, hesitant smile, but it warmed my heart.
"Thank you, Ahaan," she said softly. "For standing up for me. For being my friend."
I smiled back, feeling a sense of accomplishment I had never felt before. "You're welcome, Ishqi. And thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself."
As the semester continued, our friendship grew stronger. I no longer cared about my image or what others thought. What mattered was that I was doing the right thing, and in the process, I had gained a true friend. Ishqi had shown me a different side of life, one where kindness and integrity mattered more than popularity.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was becoming the person I truly wanted to be.