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Between The Lines

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Oscar Banda Acp
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234 views2 pages

Between The Lines

Uploaded by

Oscar Banda Acp
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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"Between the Lines"

In the small, sun-drenched town of Mankhaka, Aisha had never thought much about
love. Books and exams took up most of her time. She believed that success was carved
from sleepless nights and ink-stained fingers, not stolen glances across the classroom.

Then there was Thabo.

Thabo was the kind of person who turned ordinary moments into unforgettable
memories. He had a laugh that could shatter stress, a way of making the world feel
lighter. He sat three desks away, always sketching in the margins of his notes instead of
paying attention. Aisha thought he was ridiculous—yet somehow fascinating.

Their friendship started over a forgotten textbook. Thabo had left his math book behind,
and Aisha, practical as ever, picked it up. The pages were filled with drawings—little
comic strips of their teacher, exaggerated frowns and wild gestures. Aisha laughed
despite herself.

"You like them?" Thabo asked, catching her amusement.

"They're terrible," she said, but she was smiling.

That was how it began—between the pages of borrowed books and whispered
conversations in the library.

Thabo taught Aisha that life wasn’t just about perfect grades but about moments—
watching sunsets, eating snacks in secret during lectures, debating whether pineapple
belonged on pizza. And slowly, she found herself drawn in.

But school wasn’t just laughter and stolen moments. There were exams looming,
expectations pressing in. Aisha feared losing herself to something uncertain, something
unplanned.

Then one afternoon, after final exams, Thabo handed her a folded note. Inside were
words, simple but sincere:

"Love isn’t a distraction. It’s the thing that reminds you why life matters."

Aisha sighed, realizing she had spent so long trying to control her life that she forgot to
live it.

Perhaps love was like a story scribbled in the margins—messy, imperfect, but
unforgettable.

And so, in the heart of Mankhaka, between study sessions and sketchbook pages, a
new chapter began.

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