Hidden Massage
958 Words
Chapter Four: Hidden Messages
The sun had already begun to set when Haya stepped off the school bus, her eyes tired, her mind heavier than usual. The days had become harder to walk through. Every morning felt like a battlefield, not just of books and classes, but of unspoken words, silent glances, and twisted loyalties.
Since her return, the school hadn’t just changed around her — it had changed within her too.
There was tension in the air, and she could feel it in every hallway she walked. Whispers, glances, and laughter that stopped when she entered. The classroom no longer felt like a place of learning but a web of hidden agendas.
Among the names that haunted her days, one always echoed louder than the rest: Abdullah.
Abdullah had quickly earned himself the title of the school's darkest shadow. Arrogant, manipulative, and dangerously charming, he was the kind of villain who didn't need fists to destroy someone. He used rumors like weapons and secrets like grenades.
And then there was Alsa — the girl everyone thought was perfect. But Haya had seen through the mask. Behind Alsa's polished smile was a storm waiting to break. Alsa didn’t just betray Haya — she betrayed Malika too.
Once inseparable, Alsa and Malika had walked through the school like queens, but betrayal has a way of changing people. And in that change, Haya found an unlikely ally: Malika.
It hadn’t happened overnight. At first, their conversations were cold, almost forced. But shared pain has a strange way of building bridges. Over time, Haya and Malika began sitting together, whispering in class, and laughing quietly during lunch.
Haya had never expected this friendship. She had been alone for too long, and she almost forgot how it felt to be heard, to be understood.
But just as things were settling, another ripple disturbed the calm.
Awais Javed.
A name that barely registered during her early days. He was quiet, too quiet, often sitting at the edge of every room like a forgotten book. He had joined the school recently, one of the few new faces in 9th grade.
She didn't know when he started watching her. Maybe it was during those silent group projects, or the time he picked up her dropped pencil without a word. He never spoke unless spoken to, but there was something in his eyes — a quiet storm.
At first, Haya disliked him. Maybe it was because he seemed to know too much about her without saying anything. Or maybe it was because he reminded her of herself — observant, quiet, guarded.
But Awais was not just a quiet boy. He was a thread tied directly to Ibrar.
Ibrar — the name that made her heart ache without permission.
He wasn’t the hero of fairy tales, nor a boy who chased love stories in the rain. He was real. A little broken, a little distant, and yet something in him made Haya pause every time he spoke. She hadn’t meant to feel anything for him, but feelings have a way of blooming where they're not supposed to.
They had shared looks. Conversations. Silent moments that meant more than words. But it was never named. Never spoken aloud.
And then the incident happened.
The school didn’t speak of it openly, but the tension was thick in the air. Something involving Ibrar had shaken the administration. Rumors flew like birds in the courtyard, and by the next week, Ibrar was no longer allowed near the school.
He had been restricted.
And the only way Haya could reach him now… was through Awais.
It started with a small note. A simple folded paper she handed to Awais during break, her fingers brushing his for a second longer than she liked. She didn’t look back.
Days passed.
More notes. More silence.
Until one afternoon, she found a reply. Written in neat handwriting. It wasn’t Ibrar’s.
It was Awais’s.
He hadn’t just been delivering the messages. He had been reading them.
And replying.
Anger rose in her like fire.
"Who do you think you are?" she hissed, cornering him near the back stairs.
He looked at her calmly, unfazed. "I’m the one who kept him from breaking. You think he cared enough to write back? He didn’t. He never did."
Her voice broke. "You’re lying."
He didn’t reply. Just walked past her, his shoulder brushing hers.
That night, she couldn’t sleep.
Something twisted inside her. A mixture of guilt, rage, and confusion.
Why would Ibrar not reply? Why would Awais lie?
Unless he wasn’t lying.
The next week, when her mother left the phone unattended, curiosity got the best of her. Ibrar had once used her phone to log into his social media. She checked.
The account was still logged in.
Her hands shook as she opened the messages.
And there it was.
Message after message.
Not for her.
But for someone else.
A girl. Her name wasn’t familiar. But the words were.
"Miss you, jaan." "Can't wait to see you again." "She thinks I care. She doesn’t matter."
The words burned through her like acid.
Every moment. Every glance. Every silent hope she had dared to feel...
It was a lie.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Not yet.
She closed the phone, placed it on the table, and stood up.
That night, something changed inside her.
Not the kind of change that breaks a person.
But the kind that rebuilds them — differently.
Stronger.
She would go back to school the next day.
Not to chase old love. Not to search for truth in someone else’s eyes.
But to become her own story.
Awais Javed was still watching.
And this time, she would watch back.
- Writer
