Three and a Half Hours
The night before, I cried without even knowing why. You were leaving for Noida, for an internship that would take you away for months, and after three years of being in the same friend group, after finally getting close to you, the timing felt cruel. I missed you before you had even left.
Then came the next night. You had just gotten your first stipend, and somewhere past midnight, we started talking. I told you I had been crying, and why. You listened, and slowly, talking about that turned into talking about everything. Our families are strict, neither of us could really be on our phones that late, but that night we found the courage anyway, whispering so no one at home would know we were awake.
For three and a half hours, we talked like we had known each other forever, even though this was the first time we were truly close. We talked about our lives, the good parts and the hard ones too, things neither of us had really said out loud before. And somewhere in that conversation, it started coming out. That you had liked me for three years. That I had been quietly noticing you, admiring you, caring for you longer than I had ever admitted, even to myself.
We did not say it directly. We did not have to. By the end we were flirting shamelessly, already talking about dates, about a future, two people who do not usually believe in anything this sudden, completely swept up anyway. It felt like a kind of magic we did not understand and did not try to control.
That night, we both knew. We just had not said it yet.
The next evening we met to talk it through, half laughing about what even happened the night before. We talked about our futures, our flaws, what we needed from each other, being honest in a way that mattered. And then, at the end of it, I finally asked you: Ketki, will you date me?
You said yes. And it was, without question, the most wholesome moment of my life.