Three weeks had passed since that first match notification, and Puja's life had shifted in a way she hadn't anticipated.

The morning alarm used to be the signal for her to open her textbooks, but now, it was a race to check her phone. The blue light of the screen was the first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep.

For Amit, the change was even more profound. He hadn't swiped on a single new profile since he sent that first message to Puja.

In fact, he had turned off his notifications for everything except her. He found himself smiling at his phone while walking through the local market or sitting at the dinner table, earning suspicious looks from his sister-in-law.

He was falling, and he was falling fast. There was something about the way Puja described her simple life in Kolkata, the way she obsessed over her exams, her hidden love for old Bollywood songs, and her constant fear of her Baba, that made Amit want to protect her and know her more.

Puja was in a state of constant internal debate. She liked him, there was no denying that anymore, but her mind was a series of what ifs.

"He's in Punjab, Puja. That's halfway across the country."

She would tell herself while staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"He's Punjabi, you're Bengali. He probably eats parathas for breakfast while you want luchi-aloodum. It's never going to work."

But then her phone would buzz, and all those logical arguments would melt away like ice.

It was a Tuesday evening. Puja was supposed to be studying, but the book had been open on the same page for forty minutes. Her phone vibrated against the wooden desk.

Oye, topper! Kitni padhai karegi aaj? Thoda break toh le le.”

(How much will you study? Take a break.)

Puja smiled, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She tried to keep her tone neutral, even though her heart was doing a little dance.

I have a mock test tomorrow, Amit. I can't just wander around fields all day.

Acha? Badmash ho gayi ho? I don't just wander. Main kaam bhi karta hoon. But seriously, itna stress mat lo. Waise bhi, if you become a successful woman, you'll forget this poor Punjabi boy anyway.

(Really? You are getting naughty….I also work. But seriously, don’t take too much stress. Moreover, if you become…)

Stop being dramatic. I won't forget anyone. And I'm not becoming successful yet. I'm just trying to pass.

Tum pass ho jaogi. I have full confidence. Waise, what are you wearing? Yellow again? You look like a sunflower in that yellow kurti in your profile pic.

(You will pass. I have full confidence. By the way,…)

Puja felt her cheeks turn hot. She was actually wearing a faded old oversized t-shirt with a mustard stain on it, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

Why do you care what I'm wearing? Kaam kro apna. Pervert!

(Do your work.)

Oye! Pervert nhi hu mai. Bas aise hi pucha. It's nice to imagine what you look like while we talk. Since you refuse to come on video call...

(I am not a pervert. I just asked.)

This was a recurring theme. Amit had asked a few times to see her on video, but Puja always made an excuse. She was terrified. A video call made it real.

Texting felt like a safe space where she could be anyone. On video, he would see the reality of her life.

I told you, Amit. I'm shy. And my parents are always around. If Ma sees me talking to a boy on video, she'll get me married tomorrow.

Chalo, thik hai. I'll wait. I'm a very patient man, Puja. Punjabis are known for their big hearts and long patience.

(Ok, fine.)

I thought Punjabis were known for being loud and eating too much butter?

Oye! That's a stereotype! Although... the butter part is true. Tomorrow I'll send you a photo of the parathas Bhabhi makes. Then you'll understand why I'm so healthy.

Healthy? You mean gol-mol (round)?

Haye! Itni beizzati? Dil tod diya tumne mera. I'm going to go eat an extra paratha now just to recover from this shock.

(So much insult? You broke my heart.)

Puja laughed out loud, catching herself before her mother could hear from the next room. She loved how easy it was to talk to him. 

As the days turned into weeks, the flirting became a little more daring, and the emotional connection deepened. Amit started sharing things about his parents, how much he missed his mother's cooking and how his elder sister, Preeti, had stepped in to fill that void.

One night, the tone turned a bit more serious.

Puja, can I ask you something? Honestly?

Yes, tell me.

You are still on this app. Do you talk to other guys too?

Puja felt a pang in her chest. She hadn't opened the app to look at anyone else in two weeks. She only opened it to see if he had messaged. But her habit of denial was strong.

It's just an app, Amit. I told you, my friend made me join. I don't really take it seriously.

But you're taking me seriously, right? Because I haven't looked at anyone else since we started talking. I don't want to.

Puja stared at the screen. Her heart was thumping. This was the moment where she should push him away, tell him it was just a time-pass thing. But the words wouldn't come.

Amit... we live so far apart. You're in Punjab, I'm in Kolkata. We've never even met. How can this be serious?

Distance is just a number, Puja. Dil milne chahiye. I feel like I know you better than people I've known for years. Jab tum baat nahi karti, toh mera din adhura lagta hai.

(Hearts should meet….When you don’t talk, my day feels incomplete.)

You're such a filmy Punjabi hero.

Aur tum meri Bengali heroine bano na? Imagine... Sarson ke khet on one side and a library full of your books on the other. Perfect balance!

(You become my Bengali heroine please? Imagine…mustard fields on one side and a library full of your books on the other. Perfect balance!)

You're crazy. My Baba would never allow a filmy hero in the house.

Toh hum chura ke le jayenge! Just kidding. I'm a gentleman. I'll win him over with my charm. But seriously, Puja... don't be so scared. Just feel what you're feeling.

(I will steal you away!)

Puja tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile playing on her lips.

I don't know what I'm feeling, Amit. It's all very new. I've never done this before.

Good. I like being your first this. Just stay with me, okay? Don't stop coming online.

I'm here, aren't I? Don't talk too much. Now go to sleep. It's late.

Thik hai, Ma'am. Goodnight. Sapne mein milte hain?

(Ok, Ma’am. Goodnight. Let’s meet in dreams?)

In your dreams, maybe. Goodnight, Amit.

As Puja put her phone away, she felt a strange warmth spreading through her. She tried to tell herself she was just bored, that this was just a friendship to escape the pressure of her studies.

But as she closed her eyes, she saw a mental image of a boy with a bright smile standing in a field in Punjab, waiting for her.

Amit was looking at Puja's picture again. He felt a sense of certainty that he couldn't explain. He had spent his life feeling a little bit like an outsider in his own family's busy lives, but talking to Puja made him feel like he had a world of his own.

He didn't care about the miles between them. He didn't care that they hadn't met. He just knew that when his phone pinged and her name appeared, the world felt a little bit brighter.

Puja, however, was still building her walls. She liked him, yes. She missed him when he was gone, yes. But she wasn't ready to admit that a stranger from a dating app had managed to do what no one else in Kolkata had, he had made her heart beat a little faster.

"It's just an app."

She whispered to the darkness of her room, even as she tucked her phone under her pillow so she could feel the vibration if he messaged her again.

But in her heart, she was already losing. And the scary part was, she didn't really want to win.

Another month had slipped away, and the thread connecting Punjab and Kolkata had grown thick with shared secrets, late-night laughter, and a comfort that felt dangerously like home.

For Amit, the maybe had turned into a definitely. He wasn't just attracted to Puja, he was in love with her, the girl who ranted about her professors and then sent him pictures of the street food she ate.

But for Puja, every step closer to him felt like a step away from her reality. The more she liked him, the more the differences haunted her. She saw the vast gap between a Punjabi household and her quiet Bengali life not as an adventure, but as an impossible hurdle.