RHEA'S POV
The college campus was alive with the kind of buzz only a weekend event could create. Posters flapped in the breeze, bright colors pasted onto bulletin boards and walls, announcing it in bold letters.
"FRESHERS NIGHT - Open Mic, Music, Poetry, and Dance | Saturday, 6:30 PM onwards"
Rhea stared at the poster near the cafeteria, her stomach flipping.
"Are you seriously going to pretend you don't want to perform?" Anaya teased, appearing beside her like she always did - sudden, persistent, and somehow always knowing what was in Rhea's head.
Rhea sighed, wrapping her arms around her notebook like it was some kind of shield. "I don't perform."
Anaya raised a brow. "You write. And you're literally the only person I know who has more poems about imaginary boys than actual conversations with real ones."
Rhea cracked a smile at that, shaking her head. "They're not imaginary."
Anaya grinned. "Exactly. Which is why you need to get up there tomorrow night and read one. You never know who might be listening."
And with a wink, she strolled away toward the library steps, leaving Rhea staring at the poster again, her heart pounding.
Would he be there?
Would he even recognize her words?
---
Rhea's classes felt longer than usual that day. She sat by the window, the late afternoon sunlight slanting across her desk as the lecturer droned on about Romantic literature. Fitting, she thought wryly.
Her phone buzzed in her lap.
A DM notification.
Her stomach dropped.
She waited for a moment, then discreetly opened it under the desk.
kabir.m_official:
That last post...Was it meant for someone who doesn't know he's being written about?
Her heart stuttered. It was both terrifying and thrilling, knowing he was reading her posts, seeing pieces of her she hadn't even shown to people in her real life.
She didn't reply.
Couldn't.
Not yet.
The bell rang, snapping her back, and as she gathered her books, she caught a glimpse of Kabir walking down the hallway with his friends - laughing, carefree, the boy everyone knew, admired, and maybe secretly adored.
And yet here he was, messaging a faceless profile, unknowingly pouring thoughts into the very girl standing just a few feet away.
And he didn't know.
Not yet.
---
KABIR'S POV
Kabir lounged on the steps of the courtyard, earbuds in, one leg stretched out, as his phone rested on his lap.
Arjun tossed him a cold drink. "Bro, you coming to Freshers Night tomorrow or what?"
Kabir glanced up. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Good. I'm performing. You better cheer your lungs out."
Kabir smirked. "Sure, man."
But his mind wasn't on songs or parties.
It was on a certain anonymous poet.
He hadn't stopped thinking about that post.
"If you ask me who he is,I'll tell you he's a feeling I never thought I'd meet in real life."
He didn't know why it gripped him so tight, but it did.
There was something about her words that felt familiar - like something he'd felt before but couldn't name. And now it haunted him in the best possible way.
He opened her profile again. Still no face. No name. But every caption, every post felt like it had been written for him.
And if he was being honest, he hoped it was.
He fired off a message.
kabir.m_official:
Do you believe people can meet through words first? That they can fall for the voice inside someone's mind before hearing the real one?
Then he pocketed his phone and walked toward his next class, telling himself he wasn't waiting for a reply.
Except he was.
---
RHEA'S POV - EVENING
The sky outside turned the color of melted apricot as the evening slipped in.
Rhea sat by the garden, her favorite spot under the old neem tree, scribbling verse after verse in her notebook, though none of them felt quite right.
Anaya texted her.
Anaya: Picked out an outfit for you. You're reading a poem tomorrow whether you like it or not. I'll fake an asthma attack if I have to.
Rhea snorted, shaking her head.
Then she opened Instagram.
His message still sat there.
Unanswered.
Her fingers hovered over the screen before she finally typed:
@SilentSoul_07:
Sometimes I think words are pieces of our souls trying to find where they belong.
And maybe mine's been finding yours in secret.
She hesitated.
Then hit send.
And immediately closed the app.
The night air was cool now, scented with campus flowers and something electric in the air. A group of seniors walked by, laughing, the sounds carrying in the stillness.
Her phone buzzed again.
A notification.
Her pulse jumped.
But it wasn't him.
It was a story from the college account - a reminder about the Open Mic.
Rhea bit her lip.
She was going.
She was going to read.
Even if her voice trembled.
Even if he never knew it was her.
---
- NIGHT
Kabir leaned against the terrace railing of his hostel, city lights glittering below like scattered stars.
His phone buzzed.
His breath hitched.
It was her.
He opened the message.
Read it twice.
And again.
A slow grin pulled at his lips.
She felt it too.
Whoever she was, she understood. And that made his world tilt slightly.
He didn't reply - not yet.
Instead, he opened her latest story.
A picture of the sunset view from the campus garden.
"See you where stories live louder than names."
Open Mic.
Of course.
She was going to be there.
He could feel it in his bones.
He opened the college event page, made a mental note of the time, and smirked.
"I'm coming for you, stranger." he whispered under his breath.
And for the first time in days, sleep came easy.
---
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