The Art Of Pretending

 As the author says, “We human beings are the complicated ones—we love deeply but hide it, we care endlessly yet act indifferent, as if silence could shield the truth of our hearts.”

 

Scene 1: The Library Gate 📚

 

I push the glass door open, books stacked against my chest.

You’re stepping in, empty-handed, like the old days when you came just to sit beside me, not to read.

For a heartbeat, my lips almost curve, remembering those hours of silent company, where even turning a page sounded like music.

But instead, I glance at the clock tower, pretending to be in a hurry.

You look down, as if the ground suddenly has answers.

We pass like two strangers learning to walk again.

And the library, once ours, forgets us as easily as we try to forget each other.

 

Scene 2: The Canteen Line ☕🥟

 

The queue moves slow, the smell of samosas thick in the air.

You’re ahead, tapping your card on the counter, ordering cold coffee. The same drink you always teased me for, “too bitter, just like you.”

I almost laugh at the memory, but instead, I unlock my phone and scroll through nothing.

You sip, I pay, and we stand barely a step apart, yet miles away.

Pretending hunger, when what I crave is your voice.

 

Scene 3: The Parking Lot 🏍🛵

 

The evening rush begins, engines roar, headlights flare, friends shout their goodbyes.

Your bike is still the same, its scratches, its stubborn start, its seat that once carried both of us.

I pause for a second, watching you put on your helmet, remembering how my hand once rested there without thought.

But I turn back quickly, unlocking my scooter like it deserves my devotion.

You pass by. I start my engine.

Two machines carry us away in opposite directions. But the silence between us is louder than the horns around.

 

Scene 4: The Exit Gate 🚪🌌

 

This is where everything ends, where students pour out, where laughter lingers, where the day dissolves.

And here, among the crowd, we face each other again.

No books, no food, no helmets to hide behind. Just us.

For a fleeting second, it feels like a chance, the universe pushing us together.

But we both look past, rehearsing indifference like professionals.

I adjust my bag strap, you check your watch.

And we move on, pretending.

Pretending we were never late-night conversations, never promises under stars, never a shared “us.”

 

Reflection 🌙

 

Pretending is not forgetting.

It is remembering every detail, every moment, but locking it behind a performance so flawless, even we begin to believe it.

But my heart knows.

It knows that when we pass by each other, you hear the same silence I do.

It knows that pretending is just another way of loving, quietly, painfully, endlessly.

 

***Raj Patel, Signing off!! ✍

Still pretending that non-existent boy, the one pretending and Hiding..🥲

 

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And now I ask you—

How many masks are you wearing today? 🎭

Do they protect you, or do they break you a little more each time? 💔

When the stage goes dark 🎬 and the play ends…

Will you still recognize the face behind them? 🌌✨