Is This Handrawn Or Printed Mam?

Lily looked back at the message. She could ignore it. That would be sensible. Her study plan already had three chapters left, and her father had reminded her at dinner that competitive dreams were built from ordinary evenings no one applauded.

Still, the word remained there.

Hi.

She typed, erased, and typed again.

Lily: Hi.

A reply appeared almost immediately.

Avi: I wasn’t sure you would answer.

That made her smile before she could stop herself.

Lily: I wasn’t sure whether I should.

Three dots appeared, vanished, then appeared again.

Avi: That sounds fair. We have never spoken.

Lily: Exactly. You are a stranger.

Avi: A polite stranger, I hope.

Lily glanced toward the kitchen. Her mother was telling one of her sisters to lower the flame. The smell of cardamom and fried onions drifted into the room. Everything familiar pressed close around her, yet the phone had opened a small, uncertain distance inside the evening.

Lily: Too early to decide.

Avi sent a laughing emoji, then another message.

Avi: I’ll try not to ruin my chances in the first five minutes.

She should have returned to her book. Instead, she leaned back against the wall and asked, Lily: What are you doing?

His answer took longer.

Avi: Helping my mother with dinner. Also pretending I’m studying.

The sentence felt strangely honest. Not charming in the polished way boys sometimes tried to be, but ordinary enough to trust.

Lily: Pretending is not the same as studying.

Avi: I know. I’m better at pretending.

From the hallway came the scrape of a chair. Her father called her name.

“Lily, did you finish the chapter?”

“Almost!”

It was not true. The word sat between her and the book, bright and undeniable.

Avi asked what she was studying. When she told him, he replied that he wanted to work in aviation management someday. He wrote about airports, schedules, aircraft, and the invisible order that kept thousands of strangers moving through the sky. He wanted to build a successful career and make his mother proud.

Lily read the message slowly.

Lily: That sounds difficult.

Avi: It probably is.

Lily: You say that like you’re not afraid.

This time, his pause lasted long enough for the rain to change its rhythm.

Avi: I am afraid. I just don’t always say it.

The words touched something she recognized. Lily knew what it was to carry a dream so carefully that speaking about it made it seem breakable. She wanted to become an IAS officer, not because anyone had told her that ambition was beautiful, but because she wanted a life in which her decisions could matter to people beyond her own home.

She wrote that to him, then deleted the sentence. It sounded too serious for a first conversation.

Instead, she sent, Lily: I want to become an IAS officer.

Avi: Then I should be careful. One day you may be the person checking whether I followed every rule at the airport.

Lily: If you break one, I will not recognize you.

Avi: Not even if I offer you tea?

Lily: Especially then. That could be bribery.

His reply came with a string of laughter. Lily found herself listening for the sound, though it existed only in her imagination.

Her sister entered without knocking and dropped three hair ribbons on the floor.

“Help me choose one.”

“I’m studying.”

“You’re smiling at your phone.”

“I’m not.”

Her sister bent to pick up the ribbons. “You are.”

Lily turned the phone face down, but the gesture felt too defensive. When she looked again, Avi had sent another message.

Avi: Did I interrupt your study plan?

The question unsettled her. He had noticed.

Lily: A little.

Avi: Then go study. I don’t want to be the reason you fall behind.

She stared at the screen. Most people would have made a joke or asked her to stay. Avi had stepped back without being asked.

Lily: You could also stop messaging.

Avi: I could. Do you want me to?

The house seemed suddenly louder - the television, the pressure cooker, her brother’s footsteps running across the corridor. Lily’s hand tightened around the phone.

She did not know him. She did not know his voice, his face in the morning, or the kind of silence he carried when he was tired. She knew only that he lived somewhere far away, in a home where his mother was making dinner, and that he had admitted fear without dressing it up as confidence.

Lily: No. Just don’t make me fail my exam.

Avi: Deal. Ten minutes. Then I’ll disappear.

She returned to her book.

For nearly four minutes, she managed to read. Then her phone vibrated.

Avi: Important question. Do you like the moon?

Lily looked toward the window. The rain had thinned. Beyond the dark outline of the neighboring roof, the moon showed itself in a broken patch of sky, pale and blurred by clouds.

Lily: That is not an important question.

Avi: It is to me.

She considered teasing him, but something in the simplicity of the message held her still.

Lily: Yes. I like it.

Avi: Good. I can continue being a polite stranger.

Lily: You are becoming a strange stranger.

Avi: Progress.

Her mother called from the kitchen, asking her to bring the serving bowls. Lily set the phone beside the textbook and carried them through the crowded house. Her younger brother complained about the food. Her father asked whether she had revised the chapter. One sister wanted to borrow her notebook, another had misplaced a school badge, and her mother pressed a warm bowl into her hands before Lily could answer anyone.

The evening did not pause for Avi. That was what made the conversation feel real.

When Lily returned to her room, the phone screen had gone dark. She woke it.

No new message.

She told herself she was relieved. She opened her book and read the same paragraph three times. At last, she sent him one final message.

Lily: I have to study now. Good night, Avi.

She expected a reply before she placed the phone down.

None came.

At first, she blamed the distance between their homes. Perhaps his internet had failed. Perhaps his mother needed help. Perhaps he had simply kept his promise and disappeared for ten minutes.

She tried to focus on the page. The words blurred into one another.

Twenty minutes passed.

Then an hour.

Outside, the clouds moved away from the moon, leaving it clear above the rooftops. Lily leaned toward the window, though she could not have said what she was looking for. Somewhere beneath that same light, Avi was living an evening she could not see - perhaps washing dishes, perhaps studying, perhaps forgetting the conversation already.

The thought embarrassed her. She had known him for less than an hour. There was no reason to care whether her good night had mattered.

Her phone vibrated.

Lily picked it up too quickly.

Avi: Good night, Lily. Sorry. My mother needed me.

A second message followed.

Avi: And for what it’s worth, I didn’t want to stop talking.

The relief came first, warm and immediate. Then came the question she did not want.

If he had wanted to continue, why had he left her waiting?

She typed, Lily: It’s okay.

Deleted it.

Typed, Lily: I thought you forgot.

Deleted that too.

Finally, she wrote, Lily: I understand. Good night.

His answer appeared after a pause.

Avi: Good night. Study well, future officer.

She smiled despite herself, but the smile carried a small ache now. Their first conversation had given her something she had not expected: ease, laughter, and a glimpse of a life far from her own. It had also given her the first uncertainty.

Lily placed the phone beside her open book. The moon rested on the glass, turning the room silver at its edges.

She returned to the chapter, but the evening had changed shape. Avi was still a stranger. The miles were still miles. Yet somewhere beyond them, a boy who dreamed of airports and wanted to make his mother proud had remembered to say good night.

And Lily, who had meant only to reply naturally and return to her studies, found herself waiting for tomorrow.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 10,050 words in the full book.