The Boy Across the Balcony

It started with a balcony. Not a conversation. Not a spark. Just a balcony. I saw him standing there—like he owned the sky. Earphones in. Black shirt. His hair was slightly messy, like he had just woken up from something dangerous. He didn’t look around. Didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. But he saw me. And I knew he did, because for a second—just a second—he stopped breathing. And so did I. My name’s Sanshita. I’m sixteen. Loud. A little dramatic. Kind of crazy in my head. But the good kind. People say I talk too much, laugh too loudly, and fall in love too fast. They’re not wrong. Because that night, at exactly 8:30 PM, I fell for him. Abhimanyu. Twenty. Mysterious. Dangerous. And later, I’d find out — not exactly the kind of guy you crush on. Unless you want to lose your mind… or your life. That first night, I remember asking my friend, “Who is he?” She laughed. “Oh, him? That guy barely speaks. Always alone. People say he’s rich or something.” Or something. Turns out… she wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t just rich. He was ruthless. I wish I could say I walked away. I ignored the butterflies and focused on my textbooks like a good girl. But no. I kept walking by his building every day. Same time. Same perfume. Same playlist. Just to maybe catch one more look. And when he finally looked again, With those unreadable eyes that said nothing but everything at the same time… I knew I was in trouble.