Silent love(Meena) James kicked a stone along the side of the road, lost in thought as the sun dipped below the buildings, casting a warm glow on the concrete jungle. The city buzzed around him, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were glued to the horizon, where the steel beasts of the subway line rumbled in the distance. He didn't expect to see anything out of the ordinary there, just his usual trek home from school. But today was different.

For the past week, he'd noticed the same girl near the subway tracks. She was always helping others, especially the stray animals that often roamed the area. Her kindness was like a beacon in the chaos of the city, and James couldn't help but feel drawn to her. He had tried to talk to her several times, but she always walked away, leaving him with the sinking feeling that he had said or done something wrong. Her silence had become a puzzle he felt compelled to solve.

The following day, James approached her again with newfound determination. This time, as he called out to her, she was surrounded by a group of chattering pigeons. She held out her hand, and they took turns landing on her outstretched fingers to peck at the breadcrumbs she offered. James watched, fascinated, as she communicated with the birds through gentle gestures and a soft smile. It was as if they understood each other perfectly.

But before he could get close enough to talk to her, a voice pierced the air. "Eana! There you are!" A young woman with curly hair and a bright smile rushed over, waving her hands. The mute girl looked up, her eyes lighting up in recognition. The friend's expression grew concerned as she saw James hovering nearby. "What's going on here?" she asked, her eyes flicking between Eana and James.

Eana's cheeks flushed pink as she gestured for James to come closer. She pointed at him, and then at her heart, before walking away with the friend who had called out to her. James felt a jolt of realization. He had been wrong about her. She wasn't ignoring him out of disdain, but rather she had something she couldn't tell him. Her eyes had spoken volumes, but he hadn't known how to listen.

The next few days, James watched Eana from afar, his curiosity piqued by her silent communication. He saw her help an old man cross the street with a gentle tug on his sleeve and nod of her head, and share a laugh with a child by mimicking their antics. Her expressive nature was captivating. He found himself trying to decode her gestures, eager to understand the language she used to convey her thoughts and feelings.

One evening, as the sky painted itself with shades of pink and orange, James gathered the courage to approach her again. He saw her feeding a scruffy kitten that had been abandoned near the subway. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye but didn't pull away as she had done before. Instead, she held the kitten out to him, inviting him to pet it. He took the gesture as an invitation to join her.

James tentatively stepped closer, unsure of how to begin the conversation without speaking. He took a deep breath and offered a tentative smile. Eana returned it, her eyes searching his for understanding. He pointed at his ears and then his mouth, feebly mimicking talking, before shaking his head. She nodded, comprehension dawning in her gaze. He then pointed at her, question marks etched into his eyebrows. Her eyes widened slightly before she nodded, confirming his suspicion.

The air was thick with unspoken words as they sat beside each other in companionable silence, watching the subway trains come and go. The rhythmic rumble of the tracks beneath them became a comforting backdrop to their shared solitude. James reached into his backpack and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, handing them to Eana. She took them with a look of gratitude and began to write. Her hand moved quickly and surely across the page, scribbling out words that formed sentences that spoke directly to his heart.

Her first note read: "Thank you for understanding me. I've always felt so alone here." James felt a twinge of sadness, realizing that she had probably encountered many like him, who had mistaken her silence for coldness. He took the pad and wrote back: "I'm sorry for not understanding sooner. Your kindness speaks louder than any words." She took the pad, her eyes shining, and scribbled: "It's okay. You're the first to try."

Their conversation grew, the pad of paper passing back and forth between them as the sun set and the streetlights flickered on. They talked about school, their favorite books, and their dreams. James learned that Eana was an aspiring artist who communicated her thoughts and feelings through her sketches. Her dream was to attend an art school, but she had always felt held back by her inability to speak.

The next day, James' heart sank as he approached the subway without seeing Eana. Her usual spot was empty, the pigeons that had come to expect her kindness scattered in disappointment. Only her friend with the curly hair remained, looking lost and worried. James approached her, his heart racing. "Is Eana okay?" he managed to ask.

The girl nodded, but her smile was tinged with sadness. "Yes," she replied, her voice soft but clear. "She had to leave suddenly. She got accepted into an art school abroad."

James felt as if the ground beneath him had crumbled away. "What? Already?" he exclaimed, unable to hide his dismay.

The girl with the curly hair nodded solemnly. "Her mom got a call yesterday. It was a scholarship she's been waiting for. She had to leave immediately."

Panic surged through James. He had to find Eana. He had to tell her how he felt before it was too late. He sprinted towards the subway, the wind whipping at his face as he pushed through the evening crowd. The heavy thud of his heart matched the rhythm of his feet as he raced down the stairs.

The train was already in the station, its doors about to close. James saw her through the glass, standing at the edge of the platform, her eyes wide with what seemed like surprise or maybe hope. He rushed forward, trying to force the words from his mouth, but they lodged in his throat like a boulder. Desperation painted his face, and Eana read it clearly. With a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, she raised her hand and moved her fingers in a dance of silent language.

Her hand formed a heart, then pointed to him, then back to herself. The meaning was clear, but the weight of the moment was too much for James to bear. The train's impatient warning beeped, the doors began to shut, and she was slipping away from him, inch by inch. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, pulling it out to scribble down his feelings. But it was too late. The gap between them grew wider, and the doors sealed shut with a definitive hiss.

Eana's smile didn't falter, but her eyes spoke volumes of the regret and sadness she felt. She mouthed the words 'I love you' and held up a paper with her number scribbled on it. The train jolted into motion, and she was gone, leaving James on the platform, clutching his phone with trembling hands. He felt as if the world had stopped spinning, frozen in a single, painful moment of loss.

The next few days passed in a blur for James. He walked to school, went through the motions of his classes, and returned home without any real sense of purpose. His thoughts were consumed by Eana, by the silent conversations they had shared, and by the love he had discovered too late. His mind was a tumult of 'what ifs' and 'if onlys', a storm of unspoken confessions and lost chances.

One morning, as he stared out the window of his school bus, he noticed a small note tucked into the corner of the seat. It was folded into a paper airplane, and the edges were slightly crumpled, as if it had been handled with great care. With trembling hands, James unfolded the paper, revealing Eana's delicate script. "I will come back soon," it read. "You had to learn the silent language." His heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him like a freight train—she had left him a message.

Driven by a newfound resolve, James set out to master the art of silent communication. He spent his afternoons at the library, poring over books on sign language and nonverbal cues. He practiced in front of the mirror, his hands moving in graceful arcs and sharp angles to match the words in his mind. It was a challenge, but one he embraced with a fierce determination to bridge the gap between them when she returned.

Days turned into weeks, and James waited at the subway station, his heart racing every time a train pulled in. He had memorized the timetable, knowing exactly when Eana's train would arrive. He hoped that she would recognize his efforts and understand the depth of his feelings. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the anticipation a sweet agony that kept him on edge.

Finally, the day came. James' eyes scanned the crowd, his breath held tight in his chest. The train's brakes squealed, and the doors slid open with a hiss. The people streamed out, a river of faces and sounds that didn't hold the one he sought. And then, there she was—Eana, stepping out of the train with a suitcase in hand. Her eyes searched the crowd, and when they met James', they lit up with joy and relief :-)

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