Nice to meet you

The scent of dust, cheap floor cleaner, and old textbook pages always defined Room 302. For Maya, it was a sanctuary of invisibility. She preferred the second-to-last row by the window, where she could watch the gulmohar trees sway outside whenever the lectures grew too monotonous. Maya was a creature of quiet habits. She kept her pens organized by color, her notebook margins pristine, and her thoughts safely locked behind a polite, reserved smile. Then came the mid-term seating reshuffle. "Meet, you're moving to the back row. Next to Maya," Mr. Sharma announced, pointing a chalk-stained finger toward her corner. Maya’s breath caught slightly. Meet was everything she wasn't. He didn't just walk into a room; he occupied it with an easy, radiant energy. He was the boy who laughed too loudly at bad jokes, forgot his homework assignments but still managed to ace the quizzes, and had a smile that made the strict teachers shake their heads in fond resignation. He slung his heavy backpack onto the desk, the zipper clattering loudly. "Hey," he said, flashing a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Looks like you're stuck with me for the rest of the semester." "Hey," Maya murmured, instinctively shifting her notebook an inch closer to her side of the desk. "Just don't shake the table when you write." Meet let out a soft chuckle, settling into his chair. "Deal. But you have to let me borrow your blue pen. I always lose mine." It was a mundane, ordinary beginning. But as the weeks bled into months, the boundary line between their desks blurred. Meet didn't just borrow pens; he filled her quiet world with whispered commentaries during history class, scribbled stick-figure doodles on her rough pads, and shared his lunchbox without asking. Maya found herself looking forward to the chaotic clatter of his backpack. She started waking up early, wondering what joke he would tell her first. Slowly, imperceptibly, the quiet comfort of friendship began to ache with something much heavier