The Hope You Left Me With

11th Ends

March came in hot and loud.

The fans were on full speed again in all classrooms. Chalk dust in the air. Sweat on foreheads. And fear. Real fear.

11th final exams.

"Your last exam before board year," Mrs. Nair said for the 100th time, holding a bunch of papers. "If you fail now, 12th will be hell for you."

Everyone looked tired. Hair tied up messy. Dark circles under eyes. Empty lunch boxes because no one had an appetite.

I looked tired too.

But not because of exams.

Because of January. Because of February. Because of everything that happened with Nick.

The game hadn't stopped.

If anything, it got quieter. Colder. More painful.

He didn't lean on Sera's desk anymore. That drama was over.

Now he just . . . looked. From far.

Across the room during attendance when my name was called.

During morning prayer, when everyone had eyes closed, I opened mine.

When I was writing notes and I felt someone watching me, I would look up and he would quickly look away.

And I was trying so hard not to look back. I told myself every morning, "Today I will not look at him. Today I will focus on the exam."

But I always looked. Once. Just once. And that once was enough to ruin my whole day.

Exam week was a blur.

Bio. Chem. Physics. Math. English. One after another.

I studied with Alia till 2am on call. We both had phones on speaker, writing, yawning. Lyra made beautiful notes with colors. Kia quizzed us with tough questions.

We were surviving together. Like a small team.

Lian and I were still . . . fine. We said hi. We shared notes. He sent me physics derivations.

But the umbrella conversation was still between us. A wall we never crossed again. We never talked about Nick after January. It was like an unspoken rule.

Nick and I didn't talk. Not once in all on the 11th. Not a single direct sentence. Only through messengers, through looks, through Sera.

The day before the last paper, there was a senior farewell in the auditorium for 12th students. Dances. Speeches. Crying juniors. Teachers give gifts.

"Last time for 12th batch," everyone said. Hall was full of emotion.

After the function, someone shouted from stage: "Group photo! All of 11th! Come to ground now!"

We all ran to the ground. No one wanted to miss the photo.

Alia grabbed my arm tight. "Come, stand in the middle! Fast, otherwise we will be at back and not visible!"

Lyra and Kia pulled me in from the other side.

And then I saw.

Nick.

Right in the center. In the second row. Because he was the topper, teachers called him to center. "Toppers in middle, toppers in middle!"

He was wearing a full uniform, tie tight, hair combed. He looked tired too, but still calm. That same calm face.

"Closer, closer, all of you closer!" the photographer shouted with a big camera. "One more step! Smile! Show teeth!"

I could feel him two people away from me. I could smell his deodorant, that faint perfume many boys in our class used. My heart was hammering so loud I thought the mic would catch it.

"3... 2... 1... Smile!"

Click. Flash.

The second it was done, I stepped back fast.

"Meher, wait for one more, one more click!" Alia said, holding my hand.

"I'm good, I'm good," I said quickly, voice shaking. "Gotta go to the washroom. Stomach pain."

I didn't go to the washroom. I went to the big mango tree near the ground and sat alone for 10 minutes. My knees were weak.

Why did he have to be there? Why couldn't one year-end without him in my photo? Why did every important photo have to include him?

The last paper was math. The worst one. The most scary.

I wrote till my hand hurt. Till my fingers pained. Formulas, sums, x and y everywhere. When the invigilator said, "Pens down, tie your papers," everyone cheered loudly.

The 11th was over. Just like that. One year over.

Outside the hall, people were hugging, taking selfies, signing each other's shirts with permanent marker. "See you in June!" "Tuition starts when?" "Vacation plans?"

I stood there with my bag, heavy with books, looking for my girls.

And then I saw him.

Nick.

Standing near the main gate. Alone. No Rahul. No Aman. No Lian. Just him. Holding his bag, looking at his phone, then looking up.

He looked up and saw me.

For a second, the whole ground went silent in my head. All noise stopped.

Maybe this is it, I thought. My breath stopped. Maybe he'll walk over. Maybe he'll say something. 11th is ending. Last chance. Maybe he'll say, "All the best for the 12th" or "See you after summer" or even just "Hi."

My feet didn't move. I was frozen.

His didn't either. He stood there, looking at me.

2 seconds. 3 seconds. 4 seconds.

Then Rahul came running from behind, shouting, "Bro, let's go for ice cream! My treat! Last day!"

Nick nodded slowly. Looked at me one last time. A small look. Not smile, not sad. Just... look.

And walked away with Rahul towards the gate.

I exhaled. I didn't know I was holding my breath for so long. My chest pained.

Alia came running with ice cream in hand. "Meher! We are going for ice cream at the shop outside! Come!"

I forced a smile, tried to look normal. "Yeah. Let's go."

But I didn't taste ice cream that day.

Summer started the next day. No uniform. No timetable. No 6 AM alarm. No Nick in the same room.

I thought it would feel like relief. Like freedom.

It didn't.

The first week I slept a lot. Till 11 AM. Mother scolded. The second week I got bored. Scrolled the phone, watched reels, no interest.

The third week I did something stupid.

I opened i********:. Searched his name. Deleted app. Downloaded again after 1 hour. Blocked him. Unblocked him after 10 minutes. Checked his profile.

His last post was with Hanna 2 weeks ago. At beach. Caption: "Miss you ❤️" with tag.

I closed the app and cried. Quietly, under a blanket, so mother wouldn't hear.

Why do I care? I asked myself. He never even spoke to me directly. Not once. Why am I crying for someone who never said hi to me?

But my brain kept replaying it. On loop like a song. The glances in December. The messengers through Lian. The leaning on Sera's desk in January. The 2-second appearance in February. The photo in March.

All of it. On loop.

April and May passed like that. Heat. The ceiling fan is making noise. Boredom. Mangoes. Power cuts in Thiruvalla evenings.

My mom asked one day while cooking, "Are you okay? You are so quiet this summer. You don't go out with friends."

"Just tired, Amma," I said. "11th tired."

I wasn't tired. I was stuck.

Stuck in a chapter that ended but didn't end. Because he never gave me the last page. No sorry, no hi, no bye. Just looks.

On the last day of May, the night before the 12th started, I sat with my diary on the terrace. The wind was cool.

The 11th is over, I wrote. And I still don't know why he looked at me all year. Was it a game? Was it real? I will never know.

I closed diary.

June was coming. 12th was coming. 9 more months with him in the same class again.

And I had no idea how I was going to survive them.