A new school year. Ninth grade.

For most, it was just another page in the same old book—same classrooms, same friends, same chatter that never seemed to end.

But for me, it felt different. Like standing at the edge of something fragile—half of me pulled back by memories I couldn’t forget, the other half trembling with a hope I wasn’t sure I deserved.

And at the center of it all, there was her.

The girl who still lived inside my chest like an unfinished story. The girl I had once met in a time tangled with silence, misunderstandings, and words I never knew how to say. No matter how far back I pushed those memories, they always folded themselves neatly into my heart—too delicate, too unforgettable.

I still remember the first time our eyes met.

The noise of the world faded. My thoughts stilled. It was like the universe had paused, just long enough to place her in front of me.

Her eyes were the first thing I saw—dark brown, warm and open, carrying a depth that made me forget how to breathe. They weren’t just eyes; they were like autumn sunlight, soft and golden, rich like the earth after rain. In that one glance, I felt something pull me closer, quiet but unstoppable.

She moved with a lightness that didn’t seem real, as if the air itself leaned toward her. And then—just for a moment—her lips curved into a smile. Small, fleeting, but enough to make my heart stumble in my chest.

“Hi,” she said.

Her voice was gentle, so soft it brushed against me like a ribbon in the wind.

My lips parted, but the sound that escaped was barely more than a breath. A whisper lost before it could reach her.

She didn’t wait. She passed by with laughter trailing behind her, leaving only the faint trace of her perfume—sweet, delicate, clinging to the air like a secret I wasn’t meant to keep.

I stood frozen. My body wouldn’t move. My voice was gone. The world had shifted, and I couldn’t catch up.

The sharp echo of footsteps snapped me back. The professor walked in, cheerful as always, welcoming the new batch with the same enthusiasm he carried every year.

I slipped quietly into my corner seat, loneliness wrapping around me like an old coat. Everyone else seemed to slide into groups so easily, their laughter bouncing off the walls, but I stayed tucked away in silence—still lost in the moment that had just passed.

“Let’s do introductions,” the professor announced. “Your name, your hobbies, maybe your dreams. Just something so we can know each other better.”

My stomach tightened. My palms grew clammy. I hated this part—standing in front of strangers, exposing bits of myself I wasn’t ready to share.

Before panic swallowed me, a familiar sound filled the room.

Her voice.

“My name is Sia,” she said, her tone light, confident, yet kind. “I love reading novels and sketching in my free time. Someday, I’d like to be an artist… but for now, I’m just happy to be here, meeting all of you.”

The class clapped politely, a few smiles thrown her way.

To them, it was just another introduction.

To me, it was everything.

Her name. Sia. The way it left her lips, soft and certain, bloomed inside me like a secret flame I already knew I’d never be able to put out.

And then it was my turn.

My throat closed. My heart pounded. I stared at my desk, every second stretching too long, my silence growing heavier by the moment. I wanted to say something—anything—but the words refused to come.

And then, mercifully, the bell rang.

The sound cut through my panic like a lifeline. I exhaled a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Saved—for now.

The room dissolved into movement. Desks scraped, laughter rose, groups formed as if everyone already knew their place.

Everyone except me.

I gathered my books slowly, pretending to be busy, pretending I didn’t notice how easily everyone else seemed to belong.

But my eyes… they betrayed me. They kept finding her.

Sia was already surrounded, her laughter weaving itself effortlessly into the voices around her. A small circle formed near her desk—friends leaning close, boys smiling too brightly. She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was used to it.

She fit. Perfectly.

And me?

I watched from my corner, a quiet ache pressing into my chest. She was only a few steps away, but she felt impossibly far.

So close I could almost reach her.
So far I knew I never would.

 ✨ End of Episode 1 ✨

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