“Dreams aren’t fake, they are just not real.”-Jennifer Afrin

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That day, that girl was dressed in red. She never had much interest in how people dressed, or how pretty they looked. But that day, she did. She noticed that SHE was really, really pretty. And why wouldn’t SHE be? SHE was his choice after all. That day, she realized, SHE was what she could never be. Not that she wanted to. But something within, hurt. And it hurt like hell.

Meanwhile, the auditorium was getting full. Each one of them was looking lovely. They had to. It was their day after all. Amongst the constant buzzing voices, she heard his.

“Hey! All set?”

“Yeah”, she replied nervously.

“Good good. See you after the function”, and he left.

She gaped wide-mouthed at him. Perfection, he was. Black tuxedo, and a black bow. Charming, as ever. Everyone drooled over him. He had that spark in him. And then she saw him walk up to HER. She saw HER smiling, she saw them talking. And in a moment, she was where she was supposed to be, backstage.

They put up a grand show that day. Everyone really appreciated them. She was happy, but something was missing. He was nowhere to be seen. She was really hoping to get a picture clicked with him, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. She walked back to the classroom, to those same old walls, to those same old people.

That day, when she was returning home, she stole a glance of him. He was smiling. No, not at her. Posing for pictures, perhaps. Seeing him smile, she smiled too. She found happiness in it. The little things in life which make us happy, she thought, and smiled a little more. What if she was not prettier, what if he could never be hers, what if he hardly smiled at her; she could always look at his pictures and keep dreaming.

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