Before We Knew

Somewhere in the Middle

The weekend air carried the scent of pine and distant chimney smoke, soft and crisp against Ruhi’s cheeks as she walked down the lane toward the community library. The trees lining the road stood bare, their branches laced with frost, and her scarf fluttered slightly in the breeze.

She wasn’t alone.

Sidro was walking beside her, a rare calmness to her usually energetic stride. Irfan had promised to meet them at the library—something about a group project that none of them were excited about but all wanted to pass.

"You ever think we’re aging faster because of all these assignments?" Sidro muttered, half-buried in her hoodie.

Ruhi laughed quietly. “We haven’t even finished high school.”

"Exactly. And already my back hurts.”

They reached the library steps just as Irfan jogged up from the other side, slightly breathless but grinning.

"You two always walk like characters in a novel," he said, swinging his bag onto one shoulder. “I feel like a background extra next to you.”

"Then upgrade your energy," Sidro shot back, smirking.

Ruhi smiled faintly but said nothing. Her thoughts kept drifting, like they often did these days. Her scholarship news was still pending, and even though she hadn’t told anyone—not even Sidro—she felt the weight of it growing heavier each day.

Inside the library, they found a quiet corner near the back. The heat indoors melted some of the chill in her fingers, but not the one in her chest.

Junaid arrived not long after. He didn’t say much, just offered a slight nod as he pulled out his notebook and sat beside them. Ruhi greeted him softly, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t awkward—just quiet. Safe.

They worked for a while, exchanging light comments about formulas, essay outlines, and who was most likely to procrastinate until the deadline. Irfan was the unanimous choice, which he didn’t even try to deny.

"You know what’s funny," Sidro said after a pause, resting her head on her folded arms, “I used to think all these quiet moments were just... nothing. But lately, I kind of like them.”

“Maybe you’re growing up,” Ruhi said gently.

“Nah,” Irfan added, “She’s just getting tired.”

Laughter rose among them—soft, genuine. Junaid looked up briefly, and his gaze met Ruhi’s. She didn’t look away immediately this time. There was a calmness in his eyes, a steadiness that reassured her more than words could.

Later, as they packed up their things, Sidro lingered a little longer than usual near Irfan, peeking over his notes and muttering something teasing about his handwriting. He gave a dramatic sigh in return, grinning as he held the notebook away from her line of sight like it was classified.

Ruhi noticed. So did Junaid.

But no one said anything.

As they all stepped outside again, the sky above them was streaked with soft pink and grey. It wasn’t quite evening, but the sun was already slipping lower.

They stood at the crossroads where their paths split, and for a moment, no one hurried to leave.

Ruhi glanced at Junaid. “You staying to finish more notes?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I think I’ll walk for a bit. Clear my head.”

She nodded, her own heart a little quieter now.

They didn’t make promises. Didn’t ask too many questions.

But somehow, everyone understood that something was forming—between lines, between laughs, and maybe even between two people too careful to say it yet.