Read Anveshna- The search :: One Glance

But She ended the letter just like that,

And just like that—my mind froze in that dangerous spot between almost right and completely wrong.

You know that feeling?

When a wild guess starts to look a little too real...

And suddenly, you're not just waiting for answers—

You're waiting for your whole theory to either unravel or crown you the psychic of the century.

I told myself I didn’t care.

But let’s be honest—there’s a weird rush in thinking you’ve cracked someone else’s story... before they even say it. But again, I told myself whatever I wouldn’t care.

I even said it out loud, like a spell—“I’m not waiting for her next letter.”

But spells don’t work when you’re lying.

And the truth is... I was waiting. Not for her, maybe. But for the next piece of the puzzle she accidentally dropped in my lap.

Because when someone clearly tells you only half story—you either wait, or you go mad.

I did both.

That night, I don’t know why, but I went to bed with a small smile. Not a big one.

Just that kind of smile you give when you remember something unexpectedly warm.

That parking lot smile — crazy, isn’t it?

Anyway, I slept with that in my mind.

But next day morning... ugh. The real world had to catch up. I got a message from school —“Surprise!”

Extra summer holiday homework.
A gift from the gods of education—liked by teachers, hated by humanity.

Homework.

Of course I forgot about it. With everything happening, how could I even remember? So yeah, I spent the whole day trying to finish as much as I could.

From morning till evening, my brain just belonged to those assignments.

And still... all day, somewhere at the back of my mind, I was waiting.

Night came.

And like some new weird habit, I waited again — for that letter.

I don’t know how this happened, but without that letter... it just doesn’t feel like the day is complete.

And today also, I got it. I opened it — same as always — curious, excited, but pretending not to care.

I still don’t admit it. Not fully.

But the first line?

“Sorry Anveshna, I won’t be able to write a letter for a week from now.”

I just stared at it.

Wow.

Classic.

Of course. I knew you’d do this would happen.

I knew you’d give a hand like this. As usual. It's not your first time, right?

But it was all striked out part. And right after that, she wrote:

“Okay, I can do one more thing. Why am I saying I won’t write? Let me do this. I won’t be in the house for the next week, that’s for sure. So I’ll write all the letters today and post them at once. I hope you read one by one, daily.

Or you can read them all at once — I don’t have a problem.

Why am I explaining all this to you?

Okay, I’ve written it. I don’t want to waste page, let's not throw it. I hope you understand.”

For a second... I just stared at those scratched-out words.

And then the part she changed her mind. I don’t know why, but something shifted.

Tiny, but real.

Maybe she’s not the person I always thought she was. Maybe… just maybe... she’s trying? Anyway, I kept reading.

“You know, there’s this saying. We meet so many people every day — on roads, in crowds, at school. But we don’t remember everyone.

Until… we start noticing someone.

The day you notice someone — really notice them — your world starts shrinking around them.

Did you ever feel that?

I did.”

Huh. Interesting way to start a letter.

“At first, I saw him like everyone else.

We were in the same school, same campus.

We Actually had this thing called ‘outside lunch’ — a tradition where students could eat anywhere they wanted during the lunch break.

Most of us chose the playground.

Boys on one side, girls on the other.

Typical.

I saw him many times, during group competitions, walking past... but it meant nothing.

I didn’t even know his name.

Then one day, the girl who sat beside me — Maya — she told me this joke which happened last year when one teacher once made fun of him by teasing him about his name.

That joke revealed his name.” And of course I thought — Just because I know his name doesn’t mean I like him, right?

Wrong.

That’s exactly when everything changed.

I started noticing him. Like, noticing noticing.

And if there was a day I didn’t see him... it felt like a wasted day.

I don’t know why. I just wanted to see him. Even if just for a second.

So I started reaching school early.

Why?

Because he used to come early. And to get to his class, he had to pass by mine. That short walk he took — that 3-second window — became my morning motivation.

Even during lunch, I’d try to catch a glimpse. Boys ate fast, and I had a friend who ate painfully slow. So I used to rush her, make her eat quickly — just so we could go out and I could catch that moment when the boys walked past us.

They had to walk a longer route to reach their staircase. That worked in my favor.

And after school? Our class got dismissed before his. So I made this excuse — told my friends I had to wait for another friend who was catching a bus. That I had to say goodbye to her.

Truth?

There was no goodbye. That friend didn’t even come out to the playground gate. But I waited near the shed.

Not right at the gate — that would be too obvious.

Just close enough to pretend.

Then, after a few minutes, when he and his gang walked by — loud, laughing, all boy chaos — my friends and I followed.

Not really “followed.”

We just happened to go in the same direction.

Funny how no one ever asked me why I never said goodbye to that imaginary friend. Maybe they knew or Maybe they didn’t care.

But that’s how it went.

Every day.

One glance.

That’s all I needed.

And if I didn’t get it? That day? Wasted.

One day, I didn’t see him.

Not even once.

I don’t know why — maybe he came late,

maybe I missed him — maybe Prakriti(nature) said “not today.”

And what happened that day? I’ll tell you in the next letter. "

Really?

Now she’s writing suspense novels or what?

What was that ending — “What happened that day? I’ll tell you in the next letter.”

Does she think I’m sitting here waiting like some cliffhanger victim?

Let me be very clear — I’m not falling into her trap.

Never.

If she thinks she can hook me in with some emotional “I didn’t see him that day” drama and make me wait...

ha, sorry.

Wrong person.

Okay.

I waited.

But not because I was curious, okay?

Just because — she said she’s going out for a week.

So I wanted to check if she actually stuck to that or chickened out again.

And yeah, this time… The envelope was fat.

Like really fat.

I opened it — and guess what — eight letters.

Eight. Not seven.

A week has seven days, right?

Even people who fail math know that.

But no, she wrote eight.

I don’t even know if she knows a week is seven days.

Maybe she added one as a backup.

Like “±5” error which we write in physics readings.

Margin of error.

Emotional buffer. Just in case. Huh.

Not bad.

Not great too.