Seen in Silence

The late-night quiet wasn’t new to Ayaan. It had become his closest companion ever since school started. Silence wasn’t lonely anymore — it was safer than noise.

It was 12:43 AM when the notification buzzed.

Follow Request: Meher__x

No profile picture. Bio said, “Sometimes lost is safer.”

Ayaan didn’t recognize the name. No mutual friends.

He hesitated. Accepted.

A minute later, the first message arrived.

Meher__x:

You don't post much, huh?

Your stories are just songs and shadows.

Ayaan blinked. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.

Ayaan:

Better than selfies and drama.

There was a pause. He imagined her smiling — or maybe rolling her eyes. Then:

Meher__x:

Fair. You listen to good music, though. Lo-fi, mostly. I like it.

It feels like... something’s missing, but in a beautiful way.

He didn’t reply right away. But he smiled. That smile felt strange. Rare.

---

Days passed, and the messages didn’t stop.

It wasn’t constant. Just… comfortable.

Midnight conversations. Quiet jokes. Memes at 3 AM.

She talked about the rain. How she hated mornings. How tea calmed her more than people.

He talked about school — how people were too loud, too fast.

Meher didn’t pry. She listened in that rare way where silence didn’t feel awkward.

She told him:

“You're not like most boys. You feel like a break from everything fake.”

Ayaan didn’t know how to reply to that.

But he wrote down the line in his old notebook. Underlined it.

---

One night, he sent a song. Just lyrics.

> "And if we never meet, know this... you were my favorite almost."

A minute later, her reply came:

"Don't say never. Say maybe someday."

He didn’t realize he had been waiting for her messages every night — until one night, she didn’t text.

He checked his phone again. Then again.

Nothing.

It was just one night, but the silence was loud. Familiar in all the wrong ways.

The next night, her message finally arrived:

“Bad day. Sorry. Mind was messy.”

Ayaan replied with a simple:

“I get it. You don’t owe me words.”

She sent a heart. Just one.

And then:

"Thank you for not making me explain."

---

Their chats shifted after that.

From casual to careful. From jokes to confessions.

Meher shared that she hated school hallways — too many stares.

That her mom once called her “too emotional.”

That she sometimes left parties just to sit alone in a quiet bathroom.

That sometimes, she felt like no one saw her unless she was loud — and being loud felt like lying.

Ayaan just replied:

"I see you."

---

By the end of the month, they had shared voice notes — small, cracked laughs, late-night yawns.

Not flirty. Not romantic. Just real.

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

But it felt more permanent than most things.

Ayaan wrote in his notebook that night:

“She doesn’t feel like a stranger. She feels like a page I’ve read before.”

And when she asked:

"Do you think people meet for a reason?"

He replied:

"Sometimes I think people meet to save each other, without even realizing it."

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