The one day he stayed

It was Saturday morning, and the batch had been herded out to a quiet site by the river for an outdoor sketching session — a stretch of old trees, sleepy cows, and warm sunlight that filtered through the green.

Vanya arrived late, messy ponytail bouncing, a tote bag slung over one shoulder and sketchbook in hand. She joined her group, sat on the grass, and started sketching in silence.

Yuvi was already there, sitting with the other boys, laughing at something dumb Atharva said. She noticed him — of course she did — but didn’t look too long.

Not until he stood up, casually stretching, and walked away with his sketchpad.

And not until a few minutes later, when he reappeared beside her, tilted his head and asked, “Want to go find a better spot?”

She blinked. “What’s wrong with this spot?”

“It’s got too many people. Too many opinions.”

He didn’t wait for her answer — just turned and started walking.

And after a few seconds, she followed.

They ended up under a large banyan tree. The sun filtered through in dappled patches, and the sound of the river was a gentle background hum.

She sat cross-legged. He flopped down beside her and started sketching immediately, no fuss.

“You always do landscapes?” she asked peeking at his sketchpad.

“I sketch what I don’t have to explain,” he said, eyes still on the page.

That made her pause — not just because of what he said, but how he said it. Like he wasn’t used to being understood either.

They sketched in silence again. Wind tangled her hair. A leaf landed on her page. He plucked it away without a word.

Then she looked at him, sideways. “You don’t even show up to normal lectures. What made you come to this?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept sketching a curve of a tree trunk before lightly blowing the eraser dust away.

Then he looked up at her.

And with a tiny, almost-smirk, said, “Maybe I wanted to see how you draw things you can’t hide behind.”

Vanya stilled.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t even flirting.

Just… watching her.

Like he’d already read the layers she tried to keep buried.

She looked away too quickly. “That’s dumb,” she mumbled.

But her heart was thudding.

Loud enough to drown out the river.

He chuckled. “It is. But it worked.”

They both looked at each other then — really looked. And she wasn’t smiling now. Not the fake one. Just... quiet.

A beat passed.

Then she exhaled a soft laugh. “You’re weird.”

“You like weird,” he said simply.

And she didn’t deny it.

The sun had already dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink as everyone began packing up. Sketchbooks zipped shut. Bags slung over shoulders. Tired but satisfied chatter filled the air.

Vanya stood near the gate, waiting for an auto, still brushing dust off her kurti. She didn’t expect him to walk up beside her. Didn’t expect him to not say anything.

Just stand there. Close. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

An auto finally stopped. The others piled into the earlier ones, and somehow, this one… was just theirs.

She hesitated.

He didn’t.

He slid in first, leaning back, leg stretched out like he owned the damn city.

She looked at him, half a second too long.

“You getting in?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

She did.

They didn’t speak for a while. The road rolled under them. Her sketchpad sat in her lap. Their shoulders bumped once. Then again.

And then his hand, resting lazily between them, brushed hers.

She didn't pull away.

Instead, she asked, “Why didn’t you get your bike today?”

His lips curved. Not a smirk. Just something quiet and self-aware.

“Because,” he said, eyes on the road, “you wouldn’t ride with me.”

Her breath caught.

He didn’t say it like a challenge. Just a fact. Plain. Calm. Certain.

She turned her face to the window, but her cheeks betrayed her.

And that weird fluttery feeling in her chest?

Yeah, that wasn’t going away.