A Quiet Longing

A Quiet Longing

The college bell rang, signaling the end of the day. With a quiet sigh, I gathered my belongings, stuffing my notebooks into my bag before slinging it over my shoulder. My body felt heavy with exhaustion, my eyelids drooping from the lack of sleep.

Shreya had plans after college today, which meant I wouldn't get to walk home with her. I didn't want to disturb her, but deep down, I wished things were different. Walking home together had become a habit, one that I secretly cherished. The thought of heading back alone felt oddly empty.

As I stepped out towards the gate, my gaze instinctively searched for her. And then, I saw her—Shreya, surrounded by her group of friends, laughing and chatting animatedly. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, catching the golden hues of the setting sun. She was effortlessly radiant, her laughter ringing through the air like a melody I could never get tired of.

I slowed my steps, watching from a distance. She looked so carefree, so full of life. A part of me wanted to call out to her, to have her turn around and notice me. But I didn't. She was happy, and I didn't want to intrude.

A quiet sigh escaped my lips as I tore my gaze away.

( Sigh… )

I was too tired. Too sleepy. And maybe, just a little too envious of the people who got to be around her so easily.

Adjusting my bag, I turned towards the road, my steps feeling heavier than before.

A Warm Welcome

As I pushed open the front door, the familiar scent of home greeted me. But what caught my attention wasn't just the comforting warmth of the house—it was the girl standing near the entrance, waiting for me.

"Oh hey, Vaishu, you're home."

Vaishnavi, the girl who had become an inseparable part of my daily life. Her long, silky black hair danced with the breeze that rushed in through the open door, strands playfully brushing against her soft cheeks. As the cool air touched her face, she instinctively closed her almond-shaped eyes for a moment, her delicate eyelashes fluttering. It was such a small, fleeting gesture, yet I found myself captivated.

She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and looked up at me with a gentle smile. "Yeah, I came straight home today. Aunty messaged me that she and uncle were going to visit some distant relatives, so I'm in charge of dinner. Any special requests?"

Her voice was light, carrying the warmth of someone who had long been a part of this household.

I leaned against the doorframe, stretching my arms lazily. "Anything you make is my favorite, so just surprise me." Then, as if suddenly remembering something, I added, "But I won't be able to help—I'm heading for a workout now. Sorry."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "It's okay. I've got it covered." Her smile was as effortless as ever, radiating an unspoken kindness.

Now, you might be wondering why she calls my parents "uncle" and "aunty" instead of something more familiar. Well, that's because Vaishu isn't my sister, but she might as well be part of the family.

She's the daughter of my dad's best friend and has been living with us ever since she started college. Three years younger than me, she's already in her second year, studying hotel management with dreams of becoming a chef. Her parents live far from our hometown, and when they asked my parents if she could stay with us, my family welcomed her without hesitation.

I'm an only child, after all, and my mom had always wanted to raise a daughter. In fact, when I was little, she used to dress me up as a girl—much to my embarrassment—just so she could experience having a daughter. Shreya was there too, laughing at me the whole time. It was one of those childhood stories that still made me cringe whenever someone brought it up.

But despite the years that had passed, one thing remained unchanged—Vaishu had become an irreplaceable presence in my life.