The Eyes That Noticed Me Once. A Chapter You’ll Never Read, Yet It’s… | by Ayeshaa | The Mirror Home | Aug, 2025
I still miss those few seconds of my life—the way you looked at me in a room full of people, the way you turned back just to catch my eyes. I miss those butterflies, those mini seconds of accidental eye contact, our unplanned twinning. I know you noticed me too. It can’t be my delusion. Those big eyes never lied, not even for a second.
I remember the genuine excitement of seeing you after holidays. In a crowd of boys, my eyes searched only for you—not to stare, not to claim you, but simply to know you were okay. That was enough for me. You never laughed loudly, always hiding your smile behind your hands, but even in silence you looked beautiful. I often wondered how much more radiant you’d look if you let yourself laugh freely.
Dissection classes were my favorite. On the first day, you and I were chosen together—you were confident, while I was trembling inside. Yet, that fleeting eye contact, that mini touch of our gloved hands, is still etched in my heart.
Sometimes I asked myself: why do I care so much? Why do I feel a connection whenever I see him? Why do my eyes look for him when he isn’t around? My heart answered in silence. My first year was exciting only because of you.
But deep down, even then, I knew you liked someone else. So I stopped looking, stopped hoping. I tried to be a girl’s girl. And yet, my stubborn heart didn’t listen. It admired you silently, without expectations. The day I saw you with her, the way you looked at her like she was your whole world—I didn’t feel jealous, I didn’t even feel sad. I just wished, silently, that you’d always remain this happy.
Still, something shifted in me. Slowly, disappointment replaced adoration. Not disappointment in you, but in myself—for not being the one you chose. That happiness I used to feel faded away. I stopped searching for you in the crowd. I stopped waiting for those accidental moments. For months, our eyes didn’t even meet once.
Until yesterday.
I looked back, and you were already looking at me. In that instant, every memory of my first year rushed back. My heart smiled, even though I tried to control it. For a moment, I remembered my old self—the one who didn’t need validation, who didn’t overthink whether she was “enough,” who only knew the simple joy of admiring someone quietly.
Now, things are different. Our roll numbers sit side by side in second year, yet I no longer search for you. I don’t even know when I lost interest. Maybe when I saw how happy you were with her. Maybe because I forced myself to move on. Or maybe it was always just a crush.
But here’s the truth: I don’t miss you. I miss me.
The version of me who was carefree, who glowed with excitement, who didn’t care what others thought. I miss the way my heart felt when it was busy adoring you
Everything changed in a year. I don’t want those feelings back, but I miss the girl who once felt them.
Wherever you are, I hope you’re winning in life. I hope you’re happy.
You’ll never know it, but your presence once made someone’s existence lighter, warmer, and more alive.
I miss that year. I miss that time.
I miss the me I was then.
