Before We Knew

Familiar Paths

Second period ended in a blur of notes and muttered complaints. The hallways of Westbridge Academy filled quickly—students moving in half-hearted clusters, already counting down to lunch.

Ruhi closed her locker and stepped aside just as Sidro appeared beside her, brushing a stray curl from her face.

"Miss Ice Queen is back in her zone,” Sidro teased, nudging Ruhi lightly. “Daydreaming about triple axels or someone who skates them?”

Ruhi gave her a flat look, but her cheeks warmed just a little. “You’re reaching.”

Sidro grinned. “I’ve been reaching since Year 9. One day you’ll admit it.”

They fell into step, moving through the corridor with practiced ease. They’d been walking these halls together for years now—sometimes talking, sometimes not, but always understanding the silence. Some friendships didn’t need loud declarations. They just happened.

As they passed a classroom window, Ruhi caught a glimpse of Junaid heading down the stairs, Irfan trailing behind him with that usual lopsided smile.

“Those two again,” Sidro said. “Didn’t Irfan say something yesterday about racing Junaid around the courtyard?”

“He says something like that every week,” Ruhi replied.

The truth was, they all knew each other—not as a tight friend group, but in that quiet way school years stitched people together. Shared classes, science fairs, after-school meetings… It just built up over time.

Ruhi remembered the first time she’d really noticed Junaid—not because of anything dramatic. He’d helped a junior pick up spilled books once, then walked off without waiting for a thank you. It stuck with her more than it should have.

And Irfan? He’d borrowed her physics notes three terms ago and returned them with a sticky note that said, “May Allah bless your neat handwriting forever.” Since then, he waved like they were old friends.

In their own ways, they’d all grown familiar.

Now, as they stepped outside into the courtyard, the winter air crisp against their faces, Ruhi spotted both boys sitting by the stone bench. Irfan was deep into a loud story, Junaid half-listening while flipping through a notebook.

“You want to sit with them?” Sidro asked casually.

Ruhi glanced over. She didn’t answer right away—but then nodded.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Why not?”