Isha

I took my seat next to Khyati in Hindi class. It was the only shared class we had. My hands involuntarily reached out for hers; she didn't like physical touch all that much, but she was my black cat, and I was her golden retriever. She couldn't say ‘no’ to me. I interlocked my fingers with hers and fidgeted with her hands.

The teacher entered the class, and we all stood up to start the prayer, but an obnoxious young man thought it was a race and started before everyone else. Of course, it was none other than the great Shivansh Mohanty. It would be a nightmare to deal with him as my counterpart if I won the elections. He sang the prayer instead of reciting it, and that too in the loudest, most idiotic voice ever. At least he would save the school the cost of microphones and speakers. God, I hated him.

“Darling, do you have a pen?” a voice exclaimed from behind me. I was horrified. I turned back to see Sana. I wasn't strongly opinionated against her, but I was forced to be at that moment. I realized she was speaking to Khyati. What the fuck?

“Oh, you swear too?” she said, a little surprise in her voice. Had I just said that out loud?

“Uhh, yes? What's with the ‘darling’?” I inquired.

Sana laughed.

“What are you? Her boyfriend?”

“Technically,” I stared at her, “And you, my dear, are just a classmate.”

Khyati burst out laughing. “What the hell, Isha?” she said, running out of breath. “I can't—this is too funny.”

“Shut up,” I said, slapping Khyati’s head. Sana joined Khyati in her laughter. I just passed an annoyed smile.

“Girls at the back, shut your mouths,” our teacher commanded with a heavy accent in her English.

We got back to studying, and Shivansh kept shouting the answers without letting anyone else speak. At some point, everyone else gave up trying to answer, and it was just him screaming amidst the silence. What an annoying little bitch.

While returning to my class, my eyes met hers. It was my ex-girlfriend. She was my first love, my first girlfriend, my first kiss, and ultimately my first heartbreak. I was struck with a wave of emotions when I saw her again. Her light brown eyes exuded warmth back when we were in love, but they lack the shine now, like an ordinary rock by the road that no one would notice.

I had no intention of returning to her and her endless, vicious cycle of loving me, then hurting me, leaving me in ambiguity about the label on our relationship. It would be a lie if I said I didn't miss what we never had. I missed the memories I made with her, but never her. Identities can be label-less, not relationships. She had tried to reach out to me after school started. She probably realized she messed up and that I was gone for good this time. She said she knew I would leave, and that's why she pushed me away. I could never understand her victim mentality.

I couldn't help but notice her walking out of the queue. It annoyed me. “WALK IN THE LINE,” I yelled at her like we were strangers who never knew each other, never felt each other's touch, never kissed in the restrooms hiding our love from the world.

“YOU ARE NOT MY LEADER!” she screamed back before joining the queue. I hated her. And it made me want to be her leader even more. I needed to put her in her place, which was beneath me.