Between Lines And Laughter
343 Words
They sat beneath the leafless tree near the edge of the courtyard—Junaid sketching diagrams in his notebook, Irfan halfway through retelling the same story he’d started five minutes ago.
“And then I told him, ‘Bro, you can’t just mix hydrochloric acid like it’s cereal milk!’” Irfan said dramatically, tossing an imaginary flask into the air.
Sidro snorted. “You made that up.”
“I lived it,” he replied, hand to chest.
Ruhi smiled faintly, her lunch half-open on her lap. She wasn’t the loudest at the table, but she never felt left out either. There was a quiet sort of ease sitting here—no pressure to impress, no need to speak unless she wanted to.
Junaid glanced up from his notebook, pen paused mid-air. “That happened in Mr. Graham’s lab?”
“Technically,” Irfan shrugged, “It happened in my head while we were in the lab.”
Everyone laughed.
Ruhi’s gaze lingered for a moment on Junaid. His presence was like that—quiet, but never absent. The kind of person you didn’t notice first, but didn’t forget either.
“You sketching the new lab layout?” Sidro asked, leaning over slightly.
Junaid nodded, turning the notebook toward them. “Just trying to figure out a better way to run the water circuit for the next experiment. Less mess. Less Irfan.”
Irfan clutched his chest in mock offense. “So this is betrayal.”
Ruhi chuckled softly, the sound barely above the wind, but Junaid caught it. He glanced her way for a split second, then looked down again—saying nothing, but his lips curved ever so slightly.
The bell rang too soon, cutting through the comfort.
They began gathering their things. Sidro reached for her scarf, Irfan for his sketch of doom, and Junaid snapped his notebook shut.
As they stood, Ruhi looked up at the sky—clouds scattered thinly, sunlight peeking through.
Small moments again.
But small moments, if they kept happening, could quietly become something more.
- Writer
