He asked me: 'Am I your friend, or more than that?'

Hi, I'm Isha. I'm living in a new city to pursue my career. I am an independent woman. I like to maintain boundaries with everyone because I've realized what people can be like and have learned to keep them at a distance. Although I may appear tough and bold on the outside, deep down I am sensitive, and I only want to show my true, loving side to the trusted people I believe in.

After maintaining many boundaries, I felt at one point that I wasn't talking to people much; I was just minding my own business. While this is good for focus, it's also a hindrance because, in a career perspective, we need to build great connections and network with people. So, I made a decision: I would start talking to people and maintain a smile on my face to project a positive vibe.

I had good conversations with my colleagues and everyone I knew, though I was always careful to maintain my boundaries. I even made a few good colleagues to hang out and talk with. I know how to keep boundaries very, very well—whether with a friend, hostel mate, colleague, or manager. If I’m talking to someone, it doesn't automatically mean they are my friend.

It may sound harsh, but I value the name 'friendship'; it's not a random label I need to accept. For me, a friendship requires trust, comfort, and much more. But as we all know, in this Gen Z generation, friendship and even love seem to have lost their value. For a girl with a 'typical' mindset like mine, it’s difficult to get attached just because I’m talking to someone. If someone is my friend, I want to write letters to them, laugh with them, and be comfortable with them without any jealousy or ego.

As I started talking more, I realized people have different mindsets: a few are attention-seekers who want the spotlight, a few hide jealousy behind a fake smile, and some act tough but have good hearts. I wasn't judging them; I understood why they were the way they were, and I know everyone is different and unique.

One day, I was having a normal conversation when some colleagues started making fun of me and my work. At that moment, I felt like throwing a chair at their face, but I kept smiling and faking it. This was one of many incidents where I questioned why I was faking it. I felt I was much better off when I maintained my boundaries and didn’t talk much.

After a few months, a known person came over, and we had a great talk about nostalgia, like the cartoons famous in our childhood. I felt I had handled the social interaction and was learning how to deal with people. It felt like a great achievement.

Then, after a year, the same person randomly asked me: 'Am I your friend, or more than that?'

I was confused and said, 'You are not even my friend; you are just a colleague to me.' He looked hurt, forced a smile, and walked away. I realized he had thought of me as more than a colleague, maybe even more than a friend. I felt bad because he had expected something special. I thought it might just be a prank or flirting and tried to dismiss it, but I was certain my intentions were never wrong. I talk to everyone the same way—no more, no less.

Later, I met him while shopping. We said hello and discussed what we had bought. He said, 'I can understand your clarity, but I felt bad when you said I wasn’t even your friend.' He asked me, 'How do you specify someone as a friend, or not, or more than that?'

I smiled and asked him, 'How many best friends do you have?' He said four. 'How many close friends?' He said nine. 'And how many friends?' He said, 'My contacts list has maybe 20 or more.' I asked, 'How many people do you talk and hang out with daily?' He replied, 'I talk with everyone.' 'What do you mean by everyone?' I asked. He said, 'I mean everyone I know; I talk and hang out with everyone.'

I replied, 'Do you know I have zero best friends, two close friends, and about four friends? I talk with only seven people or less.' I said, 'That's the difference between you and me. You love everyone, and you talk and hang out with everyone. But for me, I will choose the person I am talking to. I know the limits because I know people will take advantage of normal talks and portray something that isn't true.'

He paused and said, 'But I can understand your clarity. What if someone expects more from you by your normal talks as well?'

I replied, 'I believe if that is expected, then the person is absolutely wrong.

'If just talking leads to this misconception that I have a strong bond with the, then that belief is simply untrue or a sign of an immature way of thinking. We’ve been taught since childhood not to judge a book by its cover. Similarly, talking to someone shouldn't imply I have romantic feelings or a deep connection.

When a person—be it a man or a woman—talks with someone, it might be because they are comfortable, or they want to maintain a good rapport, build their network, or just be polite. You cannot judge a person's entire character or intentions solely by how well they talk. Some may talk sweetly but be venomous inside, while others may talk bitterly but have a sweet heart.

I will always be consistent and kind in my interactions, but I will not let that kindness be misinterpreted as a promise. I can only manage my side of the boundary; the person on the other side is responsible for managing their expectations.'

I looked at him, and he finally seemed to understand the gravity of my distinction.

He looked down, then back up at me, and this time, his smile was not forced; it was a nod of understanding. 'I get it, Isha,' he said quietly. 'It makes sense. Thank you for your clarity.' With that, he wished me a good day, and we parted ways. I walked away, feeling lighter than I had in months. The conversation hadn't been easy, but I had defended my boundaries without losing my empathy. In that moment, I realized that true strength isn't about throwing a chair or faking a smile—it’s about having the courage to speak your truth and protect your peace."