Before We Knew

When the Leaves Turned

The first true signs of autumn came with the rustle of golden leaves beneath Ruhi’s shoes as she made her way to school. The breeze had turned sharper, the sky a softer grey, and the trees that once lined Elmbrook’s walkways in vibrant green were now shedding—like something beautiful was slowly being let go.

It reminded her of something.

Or maybe... someone.

She tugged her jacket tighter, clutching the folded letter deep in her bag. It had arrived two days ago—an envelope from the scholarship board, not yet opened. Not because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much.

She wasn’t ready for the answer.

In the classroom, everything buzzed around her. Sidro talked about weekend plans with that usual fire in her voice, Irfan was mock-arguing with someone across the aisle, and Junaid sat by the window, watching a leaf spiral to the ground.

She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Sidro. Not Junaid. Definitely not her parents.

There was something paralyzing about the possibility of her dream becoming real... or slipping away completely.

During break, Ruhi found herself in the music room—a place that rarely saw students unless there was a club meeting. She sat at the edge of the small stage, the echo of silence pressing against her ears.

She finally pulled out the envelope.

Her fingers hovered.

Then a voice from the doorway: “Did you get in?”

She turned, startled. Junaid.

He didn’t move closer—just stood there, his gaze calm but unreadable.

She opened her mouth to speak... then closed it again.

“I haven’t opened it,” she admitted after a moment.

“Why not?”

“Because... if it’s a no, it changes everything. And if it’s a yes... it still changes everything.”

Junaid walked in slowly, not sitting, just leaning against the wall near the piano. “You don’t want things to change?”

Ruhi looked down at the envelope again. “I don’t know what I want.”

There was silence. Then:

“Change doesn’t mean letting go of everything,” Junaid said softly. “Sometimes it just means... growing into something more.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes.

No one said anything else. But when she finally turned the envelope over and began to open it, he didn’t leave.

He just stayed—quiet, steady—like he always did.

Outside, the wind picked up again, sweeping a few golden leaves past the windows.

And somewhere deep inside her, Ruhi felt something shift.