The world within.
I wrote of a boy, again.
Farhana Iqbal
Dec 26, 2025
It is 11:11 now and I want to make a wish. I made several when I liked this boy. Now we don’t talk. You like someone. You talk to them. You become friends who are very OBVIOUSLY into each other. You text every day and every night. Then you stop talking to each other. You also stop texting each other which hurts worse because somewhere you allowed yourself to be triumphant about getting up at 10 in the morning because there awaited a “goood morningggg:)” text for you.
Honestly, they were really beautiful.
I had a thing with bangles back then—so intense, so personal. Among all my sisters, I was the only one obsessed. I begged my mother to buy me the ones I liked from our local store. They were special. Two kinds. One was a strange mix of colors, a material I still don’t know how to describe—soft yet bold. The other were thick, colorful glass bangles, not too bright… muted shades. I remember a light nude green, blended with other gentle colors.
No girl in my school wore bangles like that. Not in dozens. Not ever. I wore seven or eight—maybe more—I don’t remember exactly, only that my wrists felt full. Every movement made them sing, that soft clinging sound announcing me before I even spoke.
And the confidence…
Teachers were around—strict, cultural, watching everything. But I was a good student, academically bright, loved by them. That gave me courage. The kind that lets you bend rules without breaking yourself.
I wore them for him.
That senior guy sitting next to me in the exam hall. Close enough to notice. Close enough for the sound. I wore them intentionally, almost playfully, just to catch his attention. It was silly—and perfect.
Some girls from another class asked why I was wearing so many. I smiled and said, “Because the Bollywood actress I like wears them like this.”
Later, I heard them whispering, “Bollywood actress…” laughing.
wore them proudly.
Then came the calls.
The talking. Long conversations that felt soft, romantic, unreal. For a few days, it was just us—words, laughter, pauses that meant more than sentences.
But exams were coming. Reality stepped in. I changed my mind. I pulled back.
He kept calling anyway.