The Nameless Question

The classroom was filled with laughter. Not the warm kind. Not the kind that made you feel safe.

It was the kind that cut deep.

Ryu sat frozen in his seat, staring at the wooden desk in front of him. The words of the teacher still hung in the air, lingering like a bad dream.

“Now, everyone, let’s start by writing down the names of your parents.”

Simple. Basic.

For the rest of the students, it was a question with an obvious answer.

But not for him.

Not for Aryan.

The grip on his pencil tightened as he stared at the empty space on his paper. No matter how hard he tried, no names came to mind. No faces. Just a void—an endless silence that had followed him since the beginning.

Beside him, Aryan was still. His eyes, usually filled with mischief, were now distant, like he had already accepted this moment before it even arrived.

And then, the whispers began.

"He doesn’t even know his own parents?"

"Wait… Aryan doesn’t either?!"

"Maybe they were abandoned. Or maybe… they just appeared out of nowhere!"

The whispers turned into laughter.

A sea of chuckles and mocking smiles surrounded them, crushing the air from Ryu’s lungs. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to shout at them, tell them to stop. But his voice refused to come out.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt like this.

But today… it stung more than usual.

A chair scraped against the floor. A loud THUD followed as someone slammed their hands onto a desk. The laughter didn’t stop—except for three people.

Ryu’s eyes flickered up.

Not everyone was laughing.

At the front of the class, a girl sat with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes glaring at the ones making fun of them. She didn’t say a word, but the way her fingers curled into her sleeves spoke volumes. She was the boldest girl in class—the type who never backed down from a fight.

A few seats away, another boy sat completely still, watching everything unfold without an ounce of amusement. He wasn’t laughing. He never laughed at anyone. He simply observed.

And then, there was her.

A girl with soft features, her hands clenched together on her lap. The shy one, the one who never spoke unless necessary. Her lips pressed into a thin line as if she wanted to say something… but didn’t know how.

Three people. Only three.

Yet in that moment, their silence felt louder than all the laughter in the room.

Ryu clenched his jaw. The voices, the mocking smiles, the overwhelming sense of being different—it wouldn’t break him.

A gentle nudge from Aryan brought him back.

"It’s fine," Aryan whispered under his breath. His voice was steady, but Ryu knew the truth. It wasn’t fine. It never was.

The teacher, either oblivious or indifferent, continued the lesson as if nothing had happened. The moment passed, and the class returned to normal.

But something inside Ryu changed.

He would remember this day.

Not because of the laughter.

Not because of the shame.

But because for the first time in his life, he saw something in those three quiet faces.

Something that felt like… possibility.

Maybe he and Aryan weren’t as alone as they thought.

Maybe this was only the beginning.

And maybe, just maybe—

this moment would lead to something far greater than either of them could ever imagine.