You Look Pretty

It wasn’t just any day. It was an Onam celebration in my college, a day of celebration, colors, and joy. The air was filled with laughter, the scent of flowers, and the rhythm of traditional music. But for me, it was a day of quiet rebellion—a day I decided to break free from the shadows of a heartbreak that had haunted me for three months. I had never touched alcohol before, but that day, I let myself indulge in 30 ml of liquid courage, hoping it would numb the ache in my chest.

As the alcohol began to weave its magic, my heart raced, not just from the drink but from something else . I returned to the classroom with my friends for having onam sadhya(Lunch) , but my eyes were drawn to her. She wasn’t just another girl; she was different. Her saree, a blend of red and dark green, draped her like the earth itself—vibrant yet grounded. Her smile was there, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Those eyes—deep, mysterious, framed by dark circles—spoke of a sadness she tried to hide. She was pretending to enjoy the festivities, but I could see the storm behind her calm.

In that fleeting moment, I felt a connection I couldn’t explain. My reserved nature, my usual hesitation to approach strangers, melted away. I walked up to her, my heart pounding louder than the drums in the background, and said the only words that felt right: “You look pretty.” It wasn’t just a compliment; it was an acknowledgment of her presence, her pain, her beauty. And then, as quickly as I had approached her, I walked away, leaving her with those three words hanging in the air.

The next day was a blur. The alcohol had stolen my memories, but it couldn’t steal the image of her from my mind. I remembered her—her crooked smile, her haunting eyes, the way she stood apart from the crowd. I didn’t know her name, but I needed to. I asked her class teacher, found her Instagram, and sent her a message. It was a simple act, but it was the beginning of something I never anticipated—a connection that would leave a mark on my soul.

I wish I could say it ended there, that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. But life had other plans. That girl, with her quiet sadness and unspoken stories, became a chapter in my life I couldn’t forget. And now, as I look back, I realize that sometimes, the most beautiful moments are the ones that hurt the most. Because in her eyes, I saw a reflection of my own pain, and in her silence, I found a voice I never knew I had.