That deliberate-are we?

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"When Harsh? I want to know! The heart-breaker making his feelings obvious? That's new!" Muskaan's voice echoed in the midst of our game. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, an unwelcome flush that betrayed the cool, composed image I'd so carefully maintained. Her words stung sharper than any playful jab—it was a reminder that, despite my usual nonchalance, feelings were something I couldn't always control. I wasn't some heart-breaker, after all. Sure, I dated for fun, but that didn't mean I played with someone's emotions. Every girl I ever dated knew it was just temporary—a brief distraction, a "time pass." Those who didn't agree, I never dated.

Yet, I couldn't seem to shake the mask of indifference I'd perfected over the years. "Okay, okay, I will tell, only because I felt someone getting jealous—" I began, only to be cut off by Muskaan's characteristic retort.

"Me? Getting jealous over you? In your dreams!" she shot back, and a weird ache settled in my chest. If she could ever get jealous over me...

"Sana, who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? And anyway, don't interrupt," I snapped, trying hard to control my expression. But I knew I was failing. I took a deep breath, gathering myself, trying to hold back the quaver in my voice. "So, yeah..." I hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. I was never one for sharing feelings—not even my own. Even if I wanted to, I wasn't used to anyone listening.

I could feel my eyes beginning to mist, my limbs growing strangely numb. I desperately needed something to ground me, something to remind me of my usual self. I missed my Mr. Fuzzy—the quirky comfort that always anchored me. And then, as if on cue, my gaze locked with Muskaan's. Her electric blue eyes bore into mine, silently urging me to open up. Suddenly, the world around me faded into a blur; all I could see were those eyes that seemed to hold the power to steady my trembling heart.

"So, as you all know, I don't go around making my feelings obvious. But... I don't know how or when, it started slipping in front of her," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt a lump in my throat as I struggled to describe the inescapable pull that had taken hold of me. I couldn't tear my gaze away from those blue orbs—if I did, I knew the dam would break, and I wasn't ready for that devastation. I couldn't let my friends see the broken Harsh Agarwaal.

Mustering every ounce of courage, I pressed on, "She's the kind of trouble I never knew I needed—unpredictable, wild, and impossible to walk away from. Every time I think I've figured her out, she surprises me with something new." I could sense her nodding in encouragement, as if fueling me further. "And as much as I try to keep my distance, there's this pull—this force—that keeps drawing me back. Maybe I'm not supposed to be this drawn in, but with her... I just can't help myself."

Then the words tumbled out, raw and vulnerable, like fragments of a forbidden poem:

Shaayad kabhi naa kah sakun main tumko,
Kahe bina samajh lo tum shayad.
Shayad mere khayaal mein tum ek din milo,
Mujhe kahin pe gum shayad.
Jo tum na ho rahenge, hum nahi;
Naa chahiye kucch tumse jyaada,
Tumse kam nahi;
Jo tum na ho, to hum bhi nahi,
Naa chahiye kucch tumse jyaada,
Tumse kam nahi...

Then, in the midst of the game, someone quipped, "Kis bechari ka dil todna hai iss baar?"
That question—"Whose poor heart are you going to break this time?"—was enough to snap something inside me. I quickly composed myself, my voice regaining its familiar arrogance. "Kahi woh jalne ki buu toh nahi? Admit it, you are jealous!" I tried to sound confident, as though my feelings were nothing more than a trivial quirk.

Her reply, as expected and yet impossibly cutting, came with a smirk: "Jealous? Please, I'm too busy being fabulous to worry about that." I couldn't help but smirk back. I looked into her eyes as if to say, "Who are you trying to convince—me or yourself?" And then, almost playfully, she retorted, "No one!" That was when I realized just how well she knew me—how she could see right through my carefully constructed defenses. A genuine smile tugged at my lips. If anyone, after Mr. Fuzzy, Tejas, and Armaan, could pull out that smile from me, it was her. Muskaan... Muskaan... Kya karu mein tumhara? [Mushy, mushy, what should I do with you?]

She wasn't done. "Don't you dare mention telepathy. I just know... No, you say that frequently!"
I chuckled, "Kuch toh sharam karlo— even girgit itne jaldi rang nahi badalta, Ms. Girgit. Wait, girgit male hote hain, aap, Ms. Chipkali!"
I knew I'd pushed my luck; looking at her face, I could see she was about to land a punch. I ducked down quickly, which only infuriated her more. She stormed off like a little duck—adorable and infuriating at the same time.

That's when my phone buzzed. A message popped up from Riya:
"Hey boyfriend!🥰"

I quickly replied with my usual smooth charm, unaware that the words I'd spoken earlier still echoed in my mind.

The conversation flowed effortlessly:
Me: "Hey Riya, how about we try that new Italian bistro downtown tomorrow? I've heard their pasta is a game-changer."
Riya: "Italian sounds amazing. What time?"
Me: "7:30 works perfectly. And hey, cheesy puns are my secret weakness."
Riya: "Cheesy puns, huh? Bring them on. See you tomorrow, handsome."

I smiled at her playful banter. Riya was great—fun, food-loving, and, above all, someone who made the world feel a bit lighter. Even though she pretended to be my girlfriend, we both knew it was all just fun between best friends.

After school, I retreated to the library to collect my scattered thoughts. Tejas and Armaan had already left, their laughter echoing down the corridor. I checked out a book, needing the solitude to process the whirlwind of emotions that had overwhelmed me. As I walked toward the school gate, planning to leave the day behind, a familiar voice called out from behind me.

"Harsh! Wait!"
A small smile curved on my lips as I recognized the voice. Mushy!

"What? Can't even wait till tomorrow to see me again?" I teased, feigning the nonchalance I usually wore like a badge.

"In your dreams! Anyways, what was that?" she pressed, clearly referring to the confession I'd unintentionally spilled during the game.

"What was what, sweetheart?" I replied, masking my inner turmoil with practiced innocence.

"WHAT YOU SAID IN THE GAME!" she said, pausing to guess what I had actually confessed. "She's the kind of trouble I never knew I needed—unpredictable, wild, and impossible to walk away from. Every time I think I've figured her out, she surprises me with something new. And as much as I try to keep my distance, there's this pull, this force between us that keeps drawing me back. Maybe I'm not supposed to be this drawn in, but with her, I just can't help myself. Who is she? That deliberate... are we?"

I resisted the urge to smirk. "Well, she is the girl I dream of," I answered dreamily, my mind already slipping back into that bittersweet reverie. "You know, after seeing her, bells ring in my heart. When I look at her, can I say:  types of? Unhe dekh kar yeh keh saku 'Aise zaroori ho tum mujhko jaise hawayein saanson ko, Aise talaash houn main tumko Jaise ke pair zaminon ko.. Hasna yaaron na ho mujhse Pagal sa dhudun main tumhe... Kal mujhse mohabbat ho na ho Kal mujhko ijazat ho na ho Tutte dil ke tukde lekar Tere dar pe hi reh jaunga...' Bas unke aankhon mein khona chahta hu..." 'You are as indispensable to me as the air is to my breath, I search for you like feet seek the earth...'"

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she listened, and I continued, "I am so deliberate when it comes for her. I can't even smile, until I see her. When I search for her, you can judge me in the category of mad... Tomorrow, whether she loves me or not, whether I am granted permission or not, carrying the shattered pieces of my heart, I shall remain at her doorstep..."

I paused, my voice cracking as the words of a long-forgotten poem echoed in my mind.

"Kis bechari ka dil todna hai iss baar?" she asked, her tone laced with playful challenge.

That question snapped something deep inside me. I composed myself, forcing back a tremor in my voice. "Kahi woh jalne ki buu toh nahi? Admit it, you are jealous!" I said, trying to reclaim my usual arrogant swagger.

Her comeback was immediate: "Jealous? Please, I'm too busy being fabulous to worry about that." I couldn't help but smirk, knowing full well that she was teasing me in return.

I looked into her eyes, as if to say, "Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?" And, in that instant, she simply replied, "No one!"

That, right there, made me smile genuinely. If anyone could pull out a smile from me—after all my antics and my endless games—it was her. Mushy... Muskaan... what am I supposed to do with you?

Before I could banter further, my phone buzzed again. It was another message, this time from Riya reminding me of our date. I glanced at it, a part of me amused, another part still reeling from the confession I had made earlier in the game.

As I walked away from the gate, I realized that today had been a turning point—a day when my carefully constructed facade cracked just enough to reveal something raw and unfiltered inside. I had let my guard down, even if for a fleeting moment. And now, with every step I took, I wondered if I was ready to face the consequences of that vulnerability.

Standing at the threshold of the school gate, with Riya's cheerful promise lingering in one ear and Muskaan's teasing challenge echoing in the other, I felt the weight of the unsaid truth press upon me. Would this confession, this inadvertent revelation of my hidden heart, finally bridge the gap between what I pretend to be and what I truly feel? Or was I about to lose the one person who had always made me feel something real?

I stepped forward, unsure if I was walking toward freedom or into another trap of my own making.

I stepped forward, the cool evening air mingling with the heat of my flushed cheeks, and my mind raced with unanswered questions. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking along the fragile edge between a long-held secret and an uncertain future. I clutched my phone a little tighter, the text from Riya glowing with its promise of an easy, carefree date—a stark contrast to the turbulent confession I'd just inadvertently laid bare before Muskaan.

My thoughts turned to her: that teasing, confident smile, the way her eyes had softened when I had let slip words I never meant to say aloud. Was it simply my heart's trickery, or had I really allowed a moment of raw vulnerability to show her that behind the well-worn mask of arrogance, there was something painfully real? I couldn't tell. I felt both exposed and liberated.

As I neared the school gate, the sound of laughter from my friends and the distant hum of the city created a surreal backdrop, as if the world was indifferent to the internal storm raging inside me. My mind kept replaying Muskaan's words she didn' t mean: "Kis bechari ka dil todna hai iss baar?" That echo, mingled with my own whispered confession, haunted me in the silence.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn't notice a familiar figure emerging from the shadows near the gate. The soft rustle of footsteps made me pause. The figure said, "Meri behen jaisi hai. Uske baare mein sochna bhi mat. Uska dil dukhaya toh... mein yeh bhul jaunga hum dost hai."

I retorted, "On what basis are you accusing me?"

The figure replied, "I saw the way you looked at her. Like she was your only redemption. Like her presence was more important than the air itself for you. Like, you needed nothing but her. The same way as her acceptance and validation is enough for you to live."

I fell silent. I had nothing to support myself. And, it hit me. As the splash of ice-water on my face. Weighing tons of bricks. This can't be happening. Especially... Fvck! Fvck! I can't get attached to her! Not again!

I wasn't sure what the future held, but as I took that uncertain step forward, I knew one thing for certain: I would never be the same again. The decision lay ahead, and with every beat of my heart, I felt the pull of an uncertain destiny.

I couldn't breathe. It felt like air was around me, close enough to feel, yet far away for me breathe...

I can't afford to fall... Not af... af... after... t... that...

Flashback: "Tu? Pyaar kar sakta hai? Kya masta joke maar raha hai tu... You will never be enough to maintain a relationship afterall you are son of-"

I felt someone tugging my hand. "Harsh! Are you okay?" I could see Tejas' concerned face. I hadn't realised my friends had approached me. I could see the worry on Niyati's face. Clear disdain on Dakshita's face like this was one of my games. Armaan was bit neutral.

I regained myself and with a cocky smirk I said, "Mujhe kya hi ho sakta hai? Pyaar mein padd lete, pur bhaiji, bhagwaan ne do - do aankhein di hai! Chashma bhi nahi hai! ekdum takatak kaam karti hai! Abb hum kaise pyaar mein pade?" 

[What can I do? Fall in love, pure brother, God has not given me two- two eyes! There are no glasses either! A single attack works! Abb, how will we fall in love?]

Armaan curiously questioned, "Why?"

Tejas playfully hit his head, "Abey gawar, Tu Harsh ko yeh sawaal puch raha hai? Obviously, he will say- Pyaar andhe hi karte hai! From the reference- Pyaar mein andhe!"

[Oh idiot, you are asking this to Harsh? Obviously he is going to say- Blind fell in love- from the reference- Blind in love]

And, like that, we walked home.

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