Eyana's POV
The rain had finally started falling by the time school ended — soft, steady, not heavy enough to drench you instantly, but enough to make everything feel slower. The school grounds were almost empty now, the usual chaos replaced by scattered umbrellas and the sound of water tapping against the pavement.
I waited under the covered corridor near the gates, hugging my bag to my chest. For once, I wasn't rushing home. There was nothing to rush for. Just more silence, more of my mom pretending she's busy, and my dad making office calls loud enough to fill every room except mine.
I saw Avyansh walking toward me — hands in his pockets, school bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His hair was slightly wet, strands clinging to his forehead. He looked more human like this. Not the cold, sarcastic guy everyone believed him to be — just a boy who had a storm inside.
"You waited?" he asked, stopping beside me.
"I said we'd plan the debate, didn't I?" I said with a shrug.
He nodded and sat on the low wall next to me, careful not to slip. I followed, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. The rain filled the space between us with a soft rhythm.
"So..." I began, flipping open my notebook. "How do two emotionally unavailable people write about love?"
He chuckled under his breath. "Sounds like the setup of a tragic rom-com."
"Emphasis on tragic," I muttered.
We both laughed quietly. It felt easier this time. Lighter.
"Okay," I said, getting a little serious. "We need to split the content. I was thinking I could do the 'History of Love' part — like cultural stuff, mythology, old beliefs. That feels more... distant."
"Distant's good," he said, nodding. "I can handle the physical and emotional aspects. Maybe talk to people, take notes. Like interviews?"
"You're actually going to ask people about love?"
"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "Might as well learn what it's supposed to look like."
His voice softened a bit at the end, and my chest tugged in that uncomfortable way it always does when someone accidentally touches a part of you you thought you'd hidden well.
"I'll... ask a few people too," I offered. "Might be good to have different perspectives — old couples, teens, maybe someone who's been through heartbreak."
"Smart," he said. Then, quietly, "You ever... talked about this stuff with your parents?"
I shook my head, surprised by the question. "They don't... really ask. And I stopped trying to make them."
He didn't say anything right away. But there was a pause — the kind that carries shared understanding without needing explanation.
"I get that," he said finally. "My dad only talks when he's yelling or disappointed."
I turned to look at him. "That's the only way mine expresses anything too."
We locked eyes. The rain kept falling, indifferent to the silence stretching between us. But somehow, it didn't feel heavy anymore. It felt... okay.
Like maybe we weren't alone in it.
After a beat, I took a deep breath and said, "We don't have to write about what love feels like for us. Maybe we can write about what it should be. What people want it to be."
"That's a smart angle," he said. "Safer, too."
I looked down at my notebook, the pages still blank except for a single sentence I'd scribbled earlier during class: What if love is the thing we've been waiting for, but never knew how to recognize?
I thought about sharing it with him. But not yet. Some things still needed time.
For now, this was enough — sitting under a rusting school roof with a boy I didn't understand but maybe... just maybe, wanted to.
We went to a café and sat down to write about it. I was researching on love while he was preparing how to ask questions to every age and different types of questions so that it would be easier to understand and write about it.
I researched some book on what is love and I got few recommendations too, so I started reviewing it.
The Curious History of Love" by Jean-Claude Kaufmann :
I showed fresh perspective on the history of love, particularly the modern concept of passionate love. It explores how this idea emerged in the 12th century and how it was later overshadowed by a more instrumental, calculating approach to life.
"A Brief History of Love" by Liat Yakir:
It explores the science of love, examining the biological, chemical, and evolutionary factors that influence attraction and romantic relationships. It delves into the science behind why we fall in love, the brain's role in processing love, and how to sustain meaningful connections.
"love in ancient history":
Ancient Greece: The Greeks had multiple words for love:-
Eros: Passionate, romantic love.
Philia: Deep friendship or brotherly love.
Agape: Selfless, unconditional love, often spiritual.
Storge: Familial love.
Ludus: Playful affection or flirtation
Ancient Rome: Love was tied to duty and family. Romantic love was often secondary to honor and loyalty, though poets like Ovid explored its chaotic and seductive nature.
Ancient India: Love was seen as part of the path to a balanced life (one of the four purusharthas or aims of life).
Ancient China: Confucian thought emphasized love as filial piety and respect, while Taoism saw love as a natural, harmonious force. Romantic love was often seen as less important than family or social harmony.
Perspectives from Authors:
Plato (Symposium): Describes love as a ladder—from physical attraction to a divine appreciation of pure beauty and truth
Shakespeare: Explored love's power, tragedy, and madness (e.g., Romeo and Juliet), showing it as both uplifting and destructive
Jane Austen: Focused on love balanced with reason, portraying it as a path to personal growth and mutual respect.
Rumi: The Sufi poet saw love as a divine, spiritual connection that transcends the physical.
Leo Tolstoy: In Anna Karenina and The Kreutzer Sonata, he portrayed love as complex, often driven by desire and moral struggle.
And the last but not the least my own perspective of love which I found from the movie named
INTERSTELLAR BY CHRISTOPHER NOLAN
Interstellar showed me that love isn't just some feeling trapped inside us—it's like this invisible force that stretches across time and space, holding us together even when everything else falls apart. Love in Interstellar feels like a quiet force that hums beneath the stars—an unseen thread weaving through time and space, pulling hearts across impossible distances. It's not bound by reason or science, yet it holds as much power as gravity itself. Cooper's love for Murph is more than longing; it's a fierce, unbreakable light that guides him through the dark unknown, a beacon that defies logic and fear. When he reaches her in that shimmering tesseract, love becomes a language beyond words, a bridge that bends the very fabric of reality. And as Brand says, love is the one thing that transcends dimensions, powerful enough to push us beyond what we think is possible. Watching it, I felt like love is the universe's secret melody—one we can't always hear but that shapes every breath, every choice, every moment we dare to hope. Maybe love isn't just a feeling, but the very pulse of existence, the force that makes us whole and keeps us reaching, always reaching.
I finishes writing the details and was searching for Avyansh where he went. I waited for him for like 10 mins and there he was coming with one hand on his head as it was raining. He was drenched in rain but seemed so happy as for whatever he went he found. He came smiling towards me.
Avyansh's pov
I wrote my theory based on people's thought and so many people bad mixed thoughts on love of different age and everything seemed so overwhelming. I saw the time and realized Eyana must be waiting for me so rushed over to the café putting hand on my head as it was raining.
While entering the café I saw Eyana smiling at me so I smiled too.
Hey you're drenched pigass, Eyana said. Shut up puffer fish. Well you know what I've collected so many data and summarized it.
It was really an unexpected experience for me, as I asked about personal lifes to and the fact they shared with me. And every people had their own problem and perspective on love.
And the summary I wrote is this here,
Love, as seen through the eyes of different generations, transforms from pure instinct to complex emotion. For children, love is simple and safe—it's bedtime stories, a warm hand to hold, and someone who stays. They associate love with comfort and presence, and when abandonment touches them, even at a young age, it plants quiet questions about their worth. Teenagers, on the brink of self-discovery, feel love intensely and recklessly. It's thrilling, dramatic, and often their first experience of betrayal. A broken heart at this age feels like the end of the world, turning idealism into guarded silence. In young adulthood, love becomes a search—sometimes desperate—for meaning and connection. It's passionate, idealized, and full of mistakes. This stage often confuses attraction with affection, leading to heartbreaks that harden or teach. Adults, shaped by experience and sometimes trauma, view love more cautiously. It becomes less about butterflies and more about building, enduring, and trusting again after disappointment. Some carry the weight of failed marriages, others hold onto hope through their children or newfound companionships. For older people, love becomes a quiet memory or a steady presence. It's no longer spoken loudly, but seen in routine care, shared silence, and grief for a partner lost. Across ages, love evolves—from innocent need to burning desire, from trust broken to wisdom earned—and through it all, it remains the most defining and transformative force in human life.
Review it puffer fish.
Eyana read Avyansh's words slowly, as if each line was a doorway into someone's heart. When she reached the end, she didn't speak right away. She just stared at the sky through her window, watching the clouds drift, as if even the sky was moved.
Then, softly, she began to express what she felt after reading
Eyana's pov
"Avyansh... your words don't just explain love—they echo it.
You didn't just describe how love changes with age—you let me feel the weight of it in every season of life. I saw the child clinging to bedtime stories and a mother's scent on a pillow. I felt the teenager whose heart cracked open for the first time, mistaking fire for forever. And I held hands with the adult who loves more carefully now, because they know how much love can cost.
But what touched me most was the old soul—the one who sits in silence, still loving someone who's no longer there. That kind of love... the one that survives absence... it made me ache in the most beautiful way.
You reminded me that love is not just about who we hold, but how we carry them, even when they're gone. Even when we're changed.
Maybe love isn't something we find. Maybe it's something we grow into—through heartbreak, hope, mistakes, and memory.
And maybe that's the point. Not to understand it. But to feel it, in every version of ourselves."*
She paused, then smiled faintly, and added one last line—just for him:
Avyansh's pov
Avyansh sat still for a long moment after reading Eyana's response, the weight of her words pressing gently against the quiet corners of his heart. It wasn't just that she understood what he'd written—it was the way she felt it, as if she had wandered through every age he described and left a flower at the doorstep of each soul. Her words didn't just respond—they embraced, and in doing so, they softened something in him he didn't realize had gone rigid. "Maybe love isn't something we find... maybe it's something we grow into." That line echoed in him like a soft wind through an old room, stirring memories and truths he had only dared to whisper. He smiled, eyes stinging a little, and thought, She gets it. Not just the poetry, but the ache beneath it. And so he wrote back, simply and sincerely:
"Eyana... you didn't just read between the lines—you breathed life into them. Thank you for seeing the hearts I tried to hold with my words. You've reminded me that love doesn't have to be loud to be heard. Sometimes, it only takes someone who's truly listening."
Alright Eyana we should head back home now as it's already past 6:30 pm. We'll talk about the other details tomorrow in class.
Yeah sure I'll head back home now, Eyana replied.
Get home safely, Avyanshsaid with that Eyana replied you too pigass.
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