Shadows and Soft Openings
962 Words
The Walk-By Glances
Anaya noticed it first.
The way she started adjusting her hair whenever she passed the Architecture Block. Or how she began carrying her DSLR even when she didn’t need it—just in case she saw him. She told herself it was nothing. Just a friendship. Just someone who was… nice to talk to.
But her pen paused more often when writing about him.
And her thoughts wandered more easily than before.
Meanwhile, Riaan had developed an odd habit of lingering near the Media Wing. He wasn’t stalking her—not really. He just started showing up “coincidentally” whenever he knew her club had meetings. He never said much. But when their eyes met, it felt like something passed between them that neither could explain.
One evening, as she was walking out with a coffee, he leaned casually against a pillar near the staircase.
“Journalist,” he greeted.
“Architect,” she returned.
“You going somewhere… or running from something?”
She smirked. “Same thing, sometimes.”
He walked beside her without asking.
⸻
2. Side Conversations and Silent Comforts
The days passed, each filled with small, unnoticed steps toward each other. They began having lunch together—sometimes with others, sometimes alone. Their conversations were effortless. Neither forced, nor overthought.
Riaan spoke of how architecture wasn’t just about design—it was about understanding how people move through spaces, how they live. His passion spilled out when he got talking, hands sketching ideas in the air.
Anaya, in return, shared how stories weren’t just written—they were found. In overheard bus-stop rants. In the way a professor slammed their books after a bad day. She wrote people like puzzles—complicated, flawed, real.
One afternoon, as they sat on the stone ledge near the campus lake, watching ducks wade through murky water, Riaan said:
“You don’t talk much about your past.”
She looked at him. “There’s not much to say.”
“Liar,” he said softly, “Everyone has a before.”
She stared ahead. “Mine’s just… quieter than most.”
He didn’t push. He didn’t have to. He was beginning to understand her silences better than most people understood her words.
⸻
3. The Rain That Didn’t Stop
A few days later, the monsoon finally arrived, drenching the campus in sheets of silver. Most students ran for cover, screaming about ruined notes and soaked sneakers.
Anaya was walking back from the library when it began. She didn’t run. Instead, she lifted her face toward the sky and let it soak her. Her notebook was zipped safely in her bag, and for once, she allowed herself to feel something without narrating it in her head.
Then, unexpectedly, someone held a jacket over her head.
Riaan.
He was already half-soaked himself, but his jacket formed a makeshift roof as he walked beside her.
“You’re either extremely poetic or extremely reckless,” he said, voice raised over the sound of rain.
“Maybe both,” she laughed, and it surprised them both—how light it sounded.
When they reached the academic block, neither moved to go in. They just stood under the overhang, drenched and breathless, hearts louder than the storm around them.
He looked at her then.
Not just looked, but saw her—completely.
And for one fragile second, it felt like the universe held its breath.
But then the spell broke.
A group of juniors ran past them, laughing and pointing. The moment ended, but its echo lingered.
⸻
4. The Festival Setup
Soon, the annual Lakeside Cultural Festival arrived. With booths, food stalls, games, and performances, the entire campus transformed into a carnival.
Anaya was on the organizing committee for media coverage. Riaan, reluctantly roped in by his friends, was part of the design team setting up installation pieces across the quad.
They saw each other less—but missed each other more.
Late one evening, after a long rehearsal, Anaya sat alone by the amphitheatre steps, rubbing her tired feet. Her eyes stung from screen time and exhaustion. Riaan walked over with a plate of momos.
“You looked like you were about to murder your laptop,” he said, sitting next to her.
She smiled. “It keeps crashing. Probably hates me.”
“Give it a break. Even machines know when someone’s not sleeping.”
She blinked slowly. “You notice too much.”
“Only you,” he said, not looking at her.
Her heart gave a quiet jump.
She didn’t say anything—but she didn’t look away, either.
They ate in silence. The soft hum of distant music and fairy lights around them cast everything in an almost cinematic stillness.
It felt like the beginning of something.
Or maybe the continuation of something that neither had dared to name.
⸻
5. The Photo That Stayed
After the festival, Anaya was sorting through hundreds of student photos for the club’s official gallery upload. She paused on one.
It was a candid. A rare shot taken by someone else—of her and Riaan, laughing together by the momo stall. His hand was reaching out to hand her a plate. Her head was slightly tilted back, mid-laugh. They looked like they’d known each other forever.
She stared at it longer than she should have.
Then saved it to a folder on her personal drive.
Later that night, she received a message from him:
Riaan: “I saw the photo. I look ridiculous.”
Anaya: “You look real.”
Riaan: “You look happy.”
Anaya: “Maybe I was.”
(pause)
Riaan: “Me too.”
And for once, it didn’t matter that no one said anything more.
- Writer
