Ch 7: The Wild Cat

Switching from a private to a public school was a big change for me. Everything felt different—the students, the atmosphere, even the way teachers conducted classes. But nothing stood out to me more than the first time I saw her.

It happened on a regular morning when I reached school earlier than usual. The girls' morning shift had just ended, and students were pouring out of the gate. Among the crowd, I saw something unusual—a fight. Not just any fight, but a full-on beatdown.

There she was, a girl half the size of the two boys she was fighting, but she had them cornered. She moved fast, throwing punches with precision, her dark eyes burning with intensity. The way she carried herself—the fearlessness, the unapologetic attitude—gave off major Wednesday Addams vibes. She wasn't just a student; she was a legend in the school. Everyone called her the class bully, but as I watched her, I knew there was more to her than just a wild temper.

Our paths didn't cross properly until I joined the school's scout group. We ended up in the same team during a camping trip, and that's when I saw another side of her. She was tough, no doubt about it, but she was also fiercely loyal and surprisingly fun. She never backed down from a challenge, whether it was hiking through the mud or leading the team during drills. We spent hours talking, teasing each other, and competing over the smallest things—who could start a fire faster, who could carry the heaviest backpack. Over time, those little competitions turned into late-night conversations by the campfire, where she shared things about her life that no one else knew.

At some point, without even realizing it, I started falling for her. And from the way she'd glance at me when she thought I wasn't looking, the way she'd punch my arm playfully but then linger for a second too long—I knew she felt something too.

We started hanging out after her classes. She loved street food, so that's where we'd go—standing by roadside stalls, eating spicy fuchka and crispy samosas. She had this way of eating, fully immersed in the experience, savoring every bite. I barely paid attention to the food; I was too busy admiring her.

But deep down, we both knew there was no future for us. She was set to move to the USA with her family, and there was nothing either of us could do to change that. We never said it out loud, but we both felt it—that slow, inevitable drift apart.

The day she left, there were no dramatic goodbyes, no tears. Just a simple nod, a small smile, and an unspoken understanding. We had shared something real, something wild and intense. And maybe, in another life, things would have been different.

But in this one, she was gone, and all I had left were the memories of the girl who once shook up my world.