2.The Boy Across the Road

Elara POV

There’s something special about growing up in a small village.

You know everyone, and everyone knows you. The roads remember your footsteps, the wind carries your laughter, and every little thing holds a story.

For me, one of those stories began across the road.

Every morning before school, I would wait for my bus with my little brother, Liam. We always stood at the same spot the bus stop near the mango tree. And every time I looked up, I would see a boy on the other side, standing quietly near his gate.

Noah.

He wasn’t loud like the other boys. He always looked calm, like his world moved at a slower pace. Sometimes, he’d be lost in thought, sometimes helping his mother carry something, and sometimes just staring at the road maybe watching life go by.

At first, we never talked. I only knew his name because my dad once mentioned his family. “That’s the Thomas family,” he said. “They live just across.”

Then one summer afternoon, things changed.

My uncle’s family lived aside from our house, and I used to visit them often. One day, my cousin Caleb’s younger brother Ethan came running and said, “Elara, come! My friend’s here. Let’s play!”

And that’s when I saw Noah up close for the first time. He was sitting on the steps, drawing something on a piece of paper.

Caleb introduced us.

“This is my cousin, Elara.”

Noah looked up and smiled ,shyly, but it was enough to make me smile back.

From that day on, we became part of the same group. We played silly games, fought over snacks, and laughed at Caleb’s and Ethan's terrible jokes. I didn’t know it then, but that friendship was slowly becoming one of the most important parts of my life.

Noah was different from the others. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it always made sense. He’d listen carefully, remember small things I said, and help without being asked. When I was sad, he didn’t try to fix it he just stayed there, and somehow that was enough.

Sometimes, I’d wonder what went on in his mind. He had this quiet sadness in his eyes that I couldn’t explain. His mother was strict; I’d often hear her voice from their house. Maybe that’s why he liked being outside more.

We went to different schools for a while, but we’d still meet in the evenings, usually at Caleb’s place or near the shop at the corner. He’d help Eli with his schoolwork, and I’d tease him for being too serious.

One evening, when we were around thirteen, it started raining while we were walking home. Everyone ran, but Noah just held his bag over my head and said, “You’ll catch a cold.”

That tiny moment his simple care stayed in my heart for a long time. I didn’t call it love, not then. It was something softer, safer something I didn’t want to lose.

Years passed. We grew up, our lives got busier, but somehow, we never drifted apart. Even when new people came into our lives, even when school changed, there was always a part of me that waited to see him at least once a day.

Sometimes, I’d catch him looking at me during church or at the village festival. He’d quickly look away, pretending to talk to someone else. I never asked why maybe I didn’t want to know yet.

Because deep down, I was scared that if I named what I felt, I might lose it.

And so, our story stayed unspoken just two childhood friends walking the same road, sharing the same laughter, and unknowingly building something much stronger than either of us understood.

Even now, when I think back to those days the sun, the rain, the smell of freshly cooked food, the sound of his quiet laugh I realize that some beginnings don’t need fireworks.

They just need two hearts who see each other… even when no one else does.

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