I am Ishrat.
When I stepped into Class 10, everything felt bigger — the syllabus, the pressure of boards, and strangely, the empty space in my heart that I had ignored for years. I was fifteen, living in a quiet colony in Lucknow, always the topper in my class, always the girl who helped everyone with notes but never had anyone to share her own little secrets with.
One Monday morning, while the teacher was writing the timetable on the board, I made a quiet decision. "This year," I told myself, "I am going to have a boyfriend."
His name was Sadab.
Sadab was from the parallel section. He had messy black hair that fell over his forehead, warm brown eyes, and a calm voice that somehow made the noisy classroom feel quieter. He was good at cricket, average in studies, and always helped the junior kids when they got stuck with their cycles or bags. I had noticed him many times, but I had never spoken more than a "thank you" when he once returned my lost water bottle.
After that Monday decision, I started finding small reasons to cross paths with him.
During morning assembly, I would stand a little closer to his line. In the canteen, I would choose the table near the window because I knew he liked sitting there. I even joined the school's clean-up drive just because he was the volunteer captain.
One rainy afternoon in October, the bell rang for lunch and the corridor was crowded. I was struggling to hold my heavy science book and umbrella together when Sadab suddenly appeared beside me.
"Ishrat, right?" he said, taking the book from my hands without asking. "You'll get wet. Let me help."
My heart started beating so fast I was scared he could hear it. I managed a small nod and whispered, "Thank you."
We walked together under the same umbrella till the end of the corridor. The rain was pouring hard, but everything inside me felt warm. Before we reached the canteen, I gathered all my courage and said,
"Sadab… can we talk sometimes? Not just about school things?"
He stopped, looked at me with those kind eyes, and smiled softly.
"Sure. I'd like that," he replied.
From that day, our small conversations grew. We started sharing lunch sometimes. He would ask me how my preparation for boards was going, and I would tease him about his low marks in maths. He told me about his dream of becoming a cricketer, and I told him how nervous I was about the upcoming exams. We laughed over silly memes on his phone during free periods and exchanged notes when one of us missed class.
I still studied hard every night. I still helped my mother in the kitchen and prayed quietly before sleeping. But now there was a new happiness — someone who made me feel seen, someone who waited for me after school just to walk a few steps together, someone whose "bye Ishrat, take care" felt like the best part of my day.
Class 10 became the year I learned that wanting a boyfriend wasn't just about having a tag. It was about finding a friend who made my ordinary school days feel a little more special.
And for me, that friend was Sadab.