~02

People think Computer Science is an effortless and glamorous field. At least that's the impression I get when juniors approach me with stars in their eyes. They imagine we spend nights creating world changing apps or crack codes that no one has been able to solve so far.

But the truth is bitter.

Most of the time, I find myself staring at my laptop, at 2 A.M, trying to make sense of a code that refuses to cooperate.Yet, I love it because code has logic. It has rules. Even the most stubborn bug can be solved with patience and the right approach.

Being a final year student means I know this campus well, the bustling lawns, the boring lecture halls, the over crowded canteen, where half of the conversations are about placements and the other half are about which department will perform well this time.

Students know me here, and to them I'm not just Naksh Rajput, a normal student. For them, I'm the "Campus Hero", "Silver Oak's Star", and " The Golden Boy of Silver Oak University". Yeah, everyone here calls me by these names.

They think I've no weakness and that I'm good at everything, whether its sports or studies. But the truth is it's exhausting to live upto those expectations.

Smiling when you want to be quiet, pretending you've figured everything out when you're just twenty-two years old trying not to screw up his own life.

This afternoon, after my classes, I went to the library. I have about forty five minutes before my next class starts, and my mind is already filled with the upcoming project. I need some silence, a quite corner to recharge.

As I pushed open the library door, the AC's cool air hit me, carrying the familiar scent of ald books and ink. This is exactly what I needed. I set up my laptop in a quiet corner and went to get a book.

That's when I saw her.

She's sitting near the window, head bent over a sketchbook. soft streams of sunlight spilled across her table, highlighting the curve of her hand as it moved across the page.

Most students here are either scrolling on their phone or pretending to study. But she, She's lost in her own world.

Her pencil wasn't just scribbling randomly, she moved it as if every single line mattered. A strand of hair fell across her face, and she tucked it back, her eyes never leaving the page.

And that's when I noticed her hands.

Pale patches some light and some dark in colour marked her skin, like the fragments of the moon. She kept pulling down her sleeves, as if to hide them, but the sunlight wouldn't ler her secret stay hidden.

I've seen people with vitiligo before, but never like this. Not when their skin shimmered under sunlight, like they carried pieces of the sky itself. Not when those marks seemed less like flaws and more like nature's art.

She looked so guarded , so determined to take up less space, as if she had mastered the art of being invisible.

Yet, the way her eyes softened when the pencil obeyed her, it was like a spark of life ignited within her.

I wanted to walk closer, to see what she was drawing, to ask her why she's hiding herself. Instead, I took my book and went back to my seat, but my gaze kept wandering back to her, as if she would vanish if I looked away too long.

I opened my laptop, but my fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard. Code was the last thing on my mind because all I could think about was her, the concentration in her eyes, the fragile determination in the way she carried herself.

I shook my head, took a deep breath, and tried to concentrate but it wasn't happening. Strange, I hadn't feel this way in a long time. Out of all the hundreds of students I pass every day, it was her quiet demeanor that caught my attention.

I whispered under my breath, almost amused at myself, "Interesting".

The word hung in the air for a moment before I turned back to my screen. But I knew it then, the image of her, sunlight painting her in gold, hands carrying stars, wouldn't leave me easily.

A while later, I shut my laptop, packed my things, and went toward the next class.

I tapped my pen against the notebook, pretending to take notes, but nothing entered my head. The professor's voice fades into the background. Every few seconds, my mind circled back to her. Her calm eyes, quiet presence. I have always been good at switching off distractions but, this is different. She isn't noise. She isn't an interruption. She is something...something I can't name. I exhale slowly and lean back in my chair, whispering to myself,"Get it together, Naksh".

I try to focus again, forcing my eyes onto the board filled with codes and formula, but my thoughts kept slipping away.

It felt ridiculous. Irrational. Completely unlike me.

How could someone I didn't even know occupy so much space in my mind?

Class ended before I even realized it started. Students rushed out, laughing and talking, while I sat there for a moment longer, staring at the doorway.

A strange feeling settled in my chest. Something that tells me this isn't ending today.

── .✦