Before We Knew

Something Like Stillness

The following week slipped by in a blur of assignments and deadlines. The crisp air lingered, and students rushed through corridors, hunched into their jackets. The whispers of upcoming exams filled the halls, but not everyone’s thoughts were on tests.

In Room 3C, the windows rattled softly against the wind as Mr. Graham scribbled equations across the board. Ruhi sat at the edge of the second row, chin resting lightly in her palm, eyes drifting between her notebook and the whiteboard. She wasn’t distracted. Just… distant.

Beside her, Sidro tapped her pen rhythmically, chewing on the cap. “If I fail this one, I'm changing my name and disappearing into the mountains.”

Ruhi chuckled under her breath. “Make room for two.”

Behind them, Irfan muttered something about inventing a calculator that did the thinking for him.

In front, Junaid raised his hand to ask a question—clear, precise, focused. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. Somehow, Ruhi felt the shift anyway. The way he existed in a space without noise, but never went unnoticed.

At break, the group gathered beneath their usual tree—scarves pulled close, fingers cradling warm cups.

“I might actually pass this chemistry test,” Irfan declared proudly. “Thanks to Junaid’s super diagram explanations.”

Junaid gave a small shrug. “You did most of it.”

“He did none of it,” Sidro corrected, flicking a crumb at Irfan’s shoulder.

Ruhi smiled faintly. She liked this rhythm. Familiar. Light.

But later that day, as they walked out of school together, the sky stretched wide and pale above them—almost too quiet.

Junaid caught up to her at the gate. “Can I walk with you again?”

Ruhi nodded, surprised—but not unpleasantly.

They walked in silence for a while, their steps falling in sync without effort.

“I used to think silence between people was awkward,” Junaid said suddenly. “But it’s not. Not always.”

“It depends on the person,” Ruhi replied.

Junaid glanced at her. “I guess we understand that kind of silence.”

She didn’t answer, but the quiet between them deepened—not empty, not tense—just… full.

They reached her corner street sooner than she expected. She turned, hesitating just a second.

“Thanks for today,” she said, even though they hadn’t said much.

Junaid nodded. “Anytime.”

She stepped away, heart light but full—like something important had happened without needing to name it.