This post captures an unforgettable day—an experience of simple yet profound moments shared with a friend, AkM, on the final day of a brief but memorable campus program. These are the moments that remind us how friendship can grow in the quiet spaces between words and in small gestures that linger long after goodbye. As you read, you’ll journey through snapshots of our last hours together: shared glances, silent walks, and conversations that became the foundation of a friendship I hadn’t expected to find.
The Last Day’s Bittersweet Start
It was only my second day on campus, but it was also the last, making each moment feel fleeting and intense. The previous night’s walk with AkM lingered in my mind, refusing to let me sleep. I tossed and turned, missing my own pillow back home. I tried to make a makeshift pillow with a pair of jeans and a towel, but nothing worked. By sunrise, I gave up, reaching for my phone to check if AkM was awake. Her “last seen” was disabled, a little detail that felt strangely significant to me, though I couldn’t quite say why. Maybe, unconsciously, I had already started to care about her in ways I didn’t yet fully understand.
A Morning of Quiet Solitude
Feeling restless, I set out for a quiet walk alone. Groups of batchmates were already near the entrance, chatting and laughing, ready for a morning stroll. I scanned the crowd for AkM, but she wasn’t there and I didn't feel like joining them. So, I changed course, heading to the terrace to watch the sunrise alone.
The terrace had its own beauty in the morning light, and I spotted a peacock perched nearby. It added a sense of calm to the scene, and I stayed there for a while, taking it all in. When the groups below finally dispersed, I went back down, half-hoping to bump into her. Instead, I ended up walking with a few batchmates, making casual conversation while my thoughts were elsewhere.
Searching for Small Moments Together
After freshening up, I made my way to the cafeteria, hoping to see her there. But once again, no luck. I hesitated to message her, not wanting to come across as overly eager. Eventually, I went back to the classroom. I already knew she would be sitting in her assigned seat right behind me, but with so many people around, I couldn’t bring myself to approach her. She didn’t seem inclined to come over either. We exchanged glances, but that was it. I don’t know why it felt so difficult to speak in front of others, but it did.
We managed to share a few words during the tea break. It wasn’t much, but being near her was enough for me. By then, it was sinking in that my time with her was running out. The thought of not seeing her again after that day felt heavy, though I didn’t know quite what to do about it.
Lunchtime: A Quiet Victory
During lunch, I sat at a separate table with a couple of batchmates. Waiting for her to eat together felt too intentional, too obvious. When she arrived, she naturally sat at another table, and others quickly joined her. I couldn’t help but notice one particular batchmate - someone she wasn’t too fond of - joining her table. Seeing that made me restless.
I went up for my serving of rice, and to my surprise, a seat opened up right next to her. Without a second thought, I made my way over and sat down, not worrying about how others might interpret my actions or whether it seemed out of place. I was just glad to be there, even if only for a short while. I hoped my presence brought her a bit of ease amidst the crowd. In that moment, it felt like a quiet, personal victory. After the previous night’s walk, I realized she was an introvert, too, and appreciated her small circle of friends.
An Afternoon Walk and One Last Photo
After lunch, she planned to go for a walk with another batchmate, and I instinctively joined them. Maybe I was imposing myself, but I didn’t care. Every moment with her felt like something to hold onto. The walk was nice; she was as quiet as ever, but her presence alone was meaningful. I didn’t mind that she wasn’t talkative. Just being with her, in any capacity, felt like a memory worth holding onto.
Later, during the afternoon session, she sent me a WhatsApp message reminding me about the photo I had wanted to take with her. I’d asked about it the previous night, and I was genuinely touched she’d remembered. She even snuck into the classroom during the tea break to take that first photo with me. That simple gesture became one of my favorite memories from the day. I usually avoid photos, as I don't like photos of mine, but I treasure this one - because it’s with her, with AkM.
A Farewell with Unspoken Words
As the day wrapped up, people around us busied themselves taking last-minute photos. But my only focus was spending a few more moments with her. She wasn’t feeling well; a lingering cold and the emotional weight of the past days had taken a toll. Concerned, I insisted on walking her to the campus medical shop to make sure she got the medicine she needed before I left. As we walked, I could see her struggling with her emotions. She briefly broke down but composed herself so quickly I barely had time to react. I wanted to comfort her, but I was at a loss for words.
When the final goodbye came, it felt too abrupt, too final. I don’t even remember what I said—something simple, like “bye,” before I awkwardly walked away. The farewell felt strangely unfinished, but I couldn’t bring myself to say more.
The Beginning of Our WhatsApp Conversations
And that’s when everything shifted. That evening, on my way to the airport, we began a WhatsApp conversation that continued late into the night. We chatted about everything - traffic, airport wait times, boarding delays, and flight schedules. She even stayed awake texting me after I landed, and we continued chatting for another hour and a half as I made my way home. Those simple exchanges about logistics and travel somehow turned into deeper conversations. We shared our favorite music, and before long, music became our shared language, our go-to topic whenever we texted.
Looking Back: Where Friendship Began
As we said goodbye, so much felt unspoken, yet we had shared so much over those two days - music, moments, memories that still lingered in the spaces in between. The journeys to the airport, both hers and mine, hold a special place in my memory. I remember coming home and feeling the urge to check in on her the very next day.
When I left campus, my mind was in turmoil. I worried about her being alone, wondering if she’d join others for dinner or stay hungry, concerned for her health, her sleep, even about the barking dogs and early-morning peacocks. Somewhere amid those worries, I realized it wasn’t only about concern - it was about missing her presence, an emptiness that only hit me fully after I landed back to my city.
Thankfully, we could chat late into the night. And as I finally drifted off to sleep, I felt certain I’d gained something special - a friend who, in such a short time, had come to mean a great deal.
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