Before We Knew

Beneath Softer Skies

It was a Saturday that felt like a soft exhale—the kind of morning where the sky stretched wide and quiet, the wind gentle against the skin. Ruhi stood outside the local bookstore, waiting for Sidro. The plan had started as a casual group meet-up—something light before school pressure closed in again.

Sidro arrived in her usual whirlwind. “I brought snacks,” she announced proudly, lifting a small tote. “And I told Irfan to meet us at the café. I think Junaid’s coming too.”

Ruhi nodded, though her thoughts were elsewhere. She had checked her inbox three times that morning—still no news about the scholarship. It wasn’t urgent, not yet. But it lingered like background noise in her chest.

They walked together through Elmbrook’s quieter side streets, past window displays filled with secondhand books and old records. Sidro talked about a poetry slam she’d heard about, then a new ice cream place, and then somehow circled back to Irfan and his “absurd fear of cats.”

By the time they reached the café—a sunlit place tucked beside a stationery shop—Irfan was already seated outside with his hoodie pulled over his head like a cloak.

“I look mysterious, don’t I?” he said, lowering his sunglasses dramatically.

“You look unemployed,” Sidro replied, setting her bag on the table.

Junaid arrived a few minutes later, a small notebook in his hand. His eyes met Ruhi’s briefly—steady, respectful. He greeted everyone quietly, slipping into the last empty seat.

The group settled into a rhythm—light teasing, shared drinks, occasional quiet. Ruhi didn’t talk much, but neither did Junaid. It wasn’t awkward. Just… calm.

“You’ve been quiet,” Junaid said softly to her when the others had broken into another heated debate about sandwiches.

Ruhi hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He didn’t press. Just nodded once. “Thinking isn’t bad.”

There was a pause.

“Still working on that robotics project?” she asked, shifting the spotlight.

“Yeah,” Junaid said. “Trying to test the motor control circuit. It’s slower than I expected.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said, meaning it.

He looked at her then—really looked. And for a moment, Ruhi wondered if he could tell she wasn’t just thinking about circuits or circuits at all.

Across the table, Irfan raised his voice. “Okay, but listen, if you had to fight one duck the size of a horse or fifty horses the size of ducks…”

Sidro groaned. “Again with this?”

Ruhi laughed softly, the sound barely above the wind, but Junaid caught it. He didn’t smile widely—just the faintest lift at the corner of his lips. Enough.

As the afternoon stretched on, and shadows grew longer on the pavement, Ruhi felt something loosen. It wasn’t the scholarship. It wasn’t the uncertainty. It was just… this. A small moment, beneath a softer sky.

Not everything needed answers right away.

Sometimes, it was enough to sit beside people who made the waiting a little easier.