LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS

I don't know what she thought about it, but in my mind, our first date had already happened. Maybe it wasn't like the movies—no candlelight dinner, no violins playing in the background. But we sat together, we talked, we ate, and most importantly, we promised to visit that place once every month. That was enough for me to consider it special.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, meeting Priya became a part of my daily routine. It felt natural, effortless. We weren't those awkward acquaintances anymore; we had become a thing. Well, at least, I thought so. Priya never explicitly said we were dating. She never made any grand announcement, never posted anything on Instagram with a caption like "With him ❤️". But we did everything that couples do. We had our inside jokes, our secret hangout spots, our "accidental" hand touches that neither of us acknowledged.

So yes, in my mind, we were already together.

Priya had also made a new friend—Pooja. She was sweet, talkative, and the kind of person who could start a conversation with a stranger at a bus stop and leave with their life story. The three of us often ate together in the canteen. Life was good. Simple, predictable, and comforting.

Until one day, Ganpat, decided to drop a bomb.

It was a regular evening. I was lying on my bed, scrolling through reels, half-laughing at memes, and half-wondering why I wasted so much time on my phone. That's when Ganpat, out of nowhere, said,

"Why don't you ever talk to Pooja about me? I mean, she's Priya's friend, and you have a good bond with her."

I paused. Looked at him. Then back at my phone. Then at him again. And then I laughed. Loudly.

"What? What's so funny? Did I say something wrong?" he asked, confused.

I took my time, letting the suspense build, then smirked. "We do have a mirror in this room, right?"

It took him a full two minutes to process my sarcasm. And when he finally did, he grabbed a pillow and threw it at me.

"You bitch! That's not fair. Are you judging me by my looks? People should be judged by their hearts, not their faces!"

I dodged the pillow and laughed harder. "Bro, I judged your heart first. But then I remembered—you're a hostel boy. And hostel boys' hearts? Let's just say they aren't exactly pure. So, I thought it would be fairer to judge you by your face instead."

Ganpat looked betrayed. His face twisted into mock anger as he crossed his arms. "You're such a demon. I hope you fail your next semester exams."

"Okay, okay, don't be a child. I'll try," I said, trying to calm him down.

His eyes lit up instantly. He rushed toward me and put an arm around my shoulder. "Really? That's why you're my best friend, bro!"

I raised an eyebrow. "From 'bitch' to 'best friend' in five seconds—nice upgrade, brother."

He laughed and punched my shoulder lightly, and just like that, all was forgiven.

We headed to the mess for dinner. As expected, it was rice. Again. It felt like our hostel had a never-ending supply of rice, as if some secret underground bunker stored an infinite amount of it. Occasionally, they gave us idli or dosa, which was like finding fresh water in the middle of an ocean. But most days, it was just rice—plain, boring, and repetitive.

I was halfway through my meal when my phone buzzed in my pocket. The sound was soft, but in that dull mess hall filled with chatter and clinking plates, I heard it instantly.

I wiped my fingers on a tissue, pulled out my phone, and unlocked it. My eyes widened slightly.

It was Priya.

Priya: "Hii, how are you? What are you doing?"

Balancing my plate with one hand, I typed with my left.

Me: "Hii, I'm fine. What about you? Just having my usual rice. Have you finished dinner?"

The moment I sent the message, the grey double tick appeared. Within seconds, it turned blue. She had read it. She started typing.

Priya: "I'm also fine. I already finished dinner—I don't eat much. You continue, I don't want to disturb you. We'll talk at night."

I stared at the message for a moment, feeling an unexpected rush of excitement.

We'll talk at night.

It was such a simple sentence. Ordinary, really. But it meant something. Because people don't just randomly text at night. Night conversations are different. They're slower, more honest. People say things at night that they'd never say in the daylight.

And maybe, just maybe, tonight was the night I'd finally know what Priya truly felt about us.