I noticed her.
She sat in the front rows; her presence impossible to ignore. She had round, expressive eyes, a delicate nose ring, and carried herself with effortless confidence. Most days, she wore jeans and t-shirts, but the few times I saw her in a traditional Punjabi suit, I was awestruck. There was something about her—an aura, a quiet grace—that captivated me.
Backstory:
A couple of years into the job, I felt the urge to pursue higher education. Through a colleague, I learned about an evening postgraduate course at a college. The evening class schedule—6:30 PM to 8:30 PM, three or four days a week—fits perfectly with my work timings. However, the logistics were a challenge and the journey took anywhere between 90 minutes to two hours, depending on traffic. No matter how hard I tried, I was always late—by 10, 15, sometimes even 30 minutes.
By the time I arrived, the lectures were already in full swing, and the students were engrossed in their lessons. I would quietly slip into a seat at the back, unnoticed. When the class ended at 8:30 PM, everyone rushed home—there was no time for interaction, no lingering conversations.
And yet, in that routine of hurried arrivals and silent departures, something unexpected happened. “I NOTICED HER”.
As a habitual latecomer, I always ended up in the back rows, and the moment I entered, my eyes would instinctively find her. Despite my exhaustion, her presence filled me with an inexplicable joy. A silent crush started to form—one that I never had the courage to act on.
The Silent Admirer
I wasn’t particularly good-looking, nor did I have the self-confidence to initiate a conversation. On top of that, the long commute left me looking exhausted and worn out by the time I reached class. Approaching her felt impossible.
But there was one thing that made me stand out—my participation in class. Thanks to my practical exposure in the Organization, I was working for, I could easily relate theoretical concepts to real-world HR scenarios. I often asked intriguing questions, leading to engaging discussions. Though I didn’t personally interact with my classmates, they knew me—the guy at the back, always asking questions.
Then, something unexpected happened.
A Moment of Connection
One evening, after an especially exhausting day, I reached class even later than usual. I barely paid attention, barely spoke. This continued for two or three days, and my absence from discussions didn’t go unnoticed.
And then, she approached me.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice carrying genuine concern. “This was the moment of Connection”
It was the first time she had ever spoken to me. The girl I had admired from a distance, the one who unknowingly brightened my days, was now standing before me, worried about my well-being.
Goosebumps. Even today, I feel them when I recall that moment.
As I explained my fatigue, the conversation naturally drifted. We introduced ourselves, spoke briefly about the course, and for the first time, she became a real person beyond my silent admiration.
And then, the twist.
She was already married. She had moved to Hyderabad because her husband was pursuing the course for his career.
Did it break my heart? Not exactly. But there was a strange, indescribable feeling—a quiet realization that some feelings are meant to stay unspoken.
Soon after, I had to quit the course. Balancing work, studies, and the grueling commute became too overwhelming.
Fate’s Unexpected Reunion
Months later, after the course ended, my classmates organized a get-together at a resort in the city. They invited me, but due to work commitments, I had to decline.
That very day, I found myself at a Resorts, conducting a training session for workmen. A sheer coincidence.
And then—another twist of fate.
The student group was at the same resort, on the same day. Neither of us had planned this, yet here we were, in the same place, at the same time.
As I watched my former classmates, nostalgia kicked in. I turned to my colleague who was a Production Manager, and shared the story—the rushed evenings, the quiet admiration, the one conversation that had meant so much.
Then came the moment of truth.
When I introduced her to him, he, without hesitation, spilled the beans. He told her about my silent crush, my admiration from afar.
She smiled. I smiled.
There was no awkwardness, no regrets—just an understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of what once was. A moment wrapped in warmth and nostalgia. “Not every missed opportunity is a Sad Story”.
To this day, I don’t remember her name, but I remember her face, her presence, the way that one conversation made me feel.
A silent admiration.
A chance encounters.
An unexpected reunion.
A beautiful coincidence.