Friend Request

Raat ke 11:47 baje the. Gurgaon ke us chhote se rented room me Aarav Mehra apne bed par half-lying tha, ek haath me phone aur doosre haath se blanket ko aise pakde hue jaise koi important decision lene wala ho. AC ka remote uske pair ke paas gira hua tha, fan ki awaaz low-budget suspense film jaisi lag rahi thi, aur uske phone ki screen par ek notification blink kar rahi thi.

Ananya Sethi has accepted your friend request.

Aarav literally freeze ho gaya.

Ek second ke liye usko laga shayad phone glitch kar gaya hai. Usne screen close ki, phir kholi. Notification wahi thi. Usne brightness aur badha di, jaise acceptance ka matlab zoom karne se aur clear ho jayega. Phir uske face par ek slow, disbelieving smile aayi. Jaise kisi ne bina warning ke uski boring Tuesday night ko life ka trailer dikha diya ho.

“Accepted,” usne khud se whisper kiya. “Matlab… she saw it.”

Aur bas, dimaag ne apna kaam shuru kar diya. Aarav ka dimaag waise bhi overthinking ka corporate office tha—24x7 open, no holidays. Ek simple friend request accept hone se uske andar 18 alag-alag possibilities ka meeting room khul gaya.

Shayad wo usse yaad karti ho. Shayad usne profile pe uska naam dekha ho. Shayad koi common friend ne mention kiya ho. Shayad… maybe this is something.

Woh “something” ka kya matlab tha, Aarav ko khud nahi pata tha. Bas itna pata tha ki uski chest me ek ajeeb si warmth fail rahi thi, jaise kisi ne thand me chai ka first sip de diya ho.

Usne phone side table par rakha, phir turant wapas uthaya. Notification ko ek aur baar dekha. Phir lock screen par chhota sa reflection dekh kar khud ko thoda sa smart, thoda sa lucky, aur bahut zyada delusional mehsoos kiya.

Ananya.

South Delhi wali architecture intern. Weekend pe cafés me laptop khol kar baithne wali ladki. Metro me kabhi-kabhi mil jaati thi, mostly un routes par jo Delhi aur Gurgaon ke beech daily commuters ki life ka emotional punishment hote hain. Aarav ne usse pehli baar ek shared friend ki birthday party me dekha tha, jahan wo politely smile karti rahi thi aur logon ke jokes par us tarah se hans rahi thi jaise wo genuinely sabko comfortable feel karwana chahti ho.

Aarav ko usi din se lagne laga tha ki wo normal insaan nahi, kisi alag category ki hai. Obviously, normal insaan bhi thi. Bas uske dimaag me jo version ban gaya tha, wo thoda cinematic tha.

Next morning, Delhi Metro me office jaate hue Aarav ka mood suspiciously light tha. Rajiv Chowk pe crowd usual tha—log, bags, headphones, office IDs, aur udasi ka ek shared national mood. Aarav gate ke paas khada tha, phone ko baar-baar unlock karta hua, jaise notification aane ka chance har 30 seconds me badh raha ho.

Koi message nahi aaya.

Usne apne aap ko samjhaya, “Arre bhai, abhi to accepted hai. Thoda time lagega. It’s normal. Cool reh.”

Par jaise hi phone vibrate hua—kisi random email ke liye—uska heart ek second ke liye jump kar gaya. Phir disappointment. Phir self-lecture. Phir wapas hope.

Metro ke window me usko apna reflection dikh raha tha—fresh shave, office shirt, aur ek aisa expression jo outside se practical lagta tha, but andar se pure ka pure fanfiction ka protagonist. Usne headphone lagaye, par gaane sunne se zyada uske thoughts chal rahe the.

“Maybe she’ll message after seeing my story.” “Maybe she’s shy.” “Maybe she’s busy.” “Maybe she wants me to start the conversation.”

Aur phir, jaise kisi invisible director ne scene cut karke next shot diya ho, Aarav ne apna phone khola aur Kabir ko screenshot bhej diya.

Friend request accepted. Aur saath me ek message: Bhai, kuch toh hai.

Kabir ka reply almost instantly aaya.

Kabir: “Haan. Tum dono ke beech ek digital connection hai. WiFi ka bhi.” Aarav: “Maze mat le. She accepted after 3 days.” Kabir: “Toh?” Aarav: “Matlab soch rahi hogi.” Kabir: “Ya matlab usko laga common friend hai, ya bas polite hai, ya usne request accept karke notification se chutkara paana tha.”

Aarav ne last line ko ignore kar diya. Ya better bolo, usne sun liya aur dimaag ke recycle bin me daal diya. Kabir uska college ka purana friend tha—Noida me software job, weekend chai partner, aur life ka woh insaan jo har romantic theory ko ek blunt line se tod deta tha.

Aarav ne phir se text kiya.

Aarav: “Bhai she could’ve ignored. Accept kiya. That means something.” Kabir: “Haan, means she knows you exist. Congratulations. Human being recognized by another human being.” Aarav: “Tu bahut bitter hai.” Kabir: “Main bitter nahi, realistic hoon. Tu hope me sugar syrup daal ke usko love story bana raha hai.”

Aarav ne phone lock kar diya, lekin uske andar excitement ab bhi office ke escalator ki tarah upar ja rahi thi. Co-working space me poore din uska focus half-hearted raha. Ads ke campaign metrics, client ke feedback, weekly report—sab screen par the, par dimaag kahin aur. Har do minute me wo phone check karta. Har notification pe uska pulse ek nanosecond ke liye change hota.

Aur phir usne decide kiya: message bhejta hoon. Safe, simple, casual. Kuch aisa jo awkward na lage.

Usne type kiya:

Hi Ananya, hope you’re doing well. We met at Riya’s birthday, and I think we’ve also seen each other a couple of times in metro maybe. Just thought I’d say hi.

Usne message ko padhe bina nahi, balki 9 baar padh kar send kiya. Har sentence ke baad doubt. Har punctuation ke baad panic. Usko laga kahin “we’ve also seen each other” creepy toh nahi lag raha? Kahin “just thought I’d say hi” too desperate toh nahi? Kahin “hope you’re doing well” corporate email vibe toh nahi?

Phir bhi send kar diya.

Message deliver hua. Aarav ne phone ko table par rakha. Phir 2 seconds baad uthaya. Phir 10 seconds baad. Phir 30 seconds. Uska dimaag ab ek chhota sa courtroom ban chuka tha.

Seen nahi hua.