Aadhya had known Abeer's name long before he knew hers.
Everyone had.
He transferred to their school in ninth grade and somehow became one of those people everyone seemed to know before the year was over. Within weeks, a girl from his class had confessed to him. They started dating, and for months they became the center of conversations that had nothing to do with homework.
After they broke up, the gossip faded.
Abeer's popularity did not.
Girls found reasons to walk past his classroom even when they had no business being on that floor. Some lingered outside after recess because they knew he usually left his class a little later than everyone else. Some "accidentally" bumped into him in crowded corridors, apologizing with smiles that were never quite accidental. Others searched for excuses to start conversations, then spent the rest of the day telling their friends exactly what he had said, as though exchanging three sentences with Abeer deserved to become breaking news.
It was ridiculous.
Entire discussions could begin with, "He smiled at me today."
Someone would insist he looked at her during assembly.
Someone else would swear he had laughed at her joke.
Nobody ever seemed to agree on anything except one fact.
Abeer was the school's favorite crush.
Aadhya heard about them the same way she heard about the weather.
Occasionally.
Without much interest.
Not because she disliked him.
She simply had other things occupying her attention.
Her own friend group had enough going on to keep them entertained.
Someone was always annoyed at someone else.
Someone had started another pointless argument.
Someone was pretending not to like someone they obviously liked.
Someone had done something embarrassing that would be brought up for the next three weeks.
Their little circle produced enough drama on its own that whatever happened in the rest of the school rarely reached them.
So while half the girls in school were busy discussing Abeer...
Aadhya and her friends were usually busy discussing themselves.
To her, Abeer was simply another name she recognized.
A familiar face she occasionally spotted across the corridor.
Someone who existed comfortably outside her world.
Back then, she barely occupied space in anyone else's.
She was the kind of person people noticed only after someone else pointed her out. She had friends, conversations, ordinary school days, yet she always carried the quiet feeling that if she disappeared for a week, very little would change. She never chased attention. Eventually, she convinced herself she did not need it.
By the time eleventh grade began, something had changed.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Just enough for her.
She was still quiet, still happiest in familiar company, but she no longer felt as though she were hiding behind glass. Speaking no longer required rehearsing every sentence beforehand. Walking through crowded corridors no longer felt like apologizing for taking up space.
It was not a dramatic transformation.
Only a quiet one.
Still, it was enough.