Tuesday Morning – Class 1-A
I stepped into class feeling good.
The sky was clear. I hadn't been pulled into three clubs yet. Mr. Brooks hadn't accused me of ruining his will to teach (yet).
But then I saw Amaya.
She was in her seat, already unpacked. Everything perfectly neat—like always.
But her smile?
It didn't reach her eyes.
First Period – Offbeat
She answered when I spoke to her.
Nodded. Smiled. Said "mm" the way she usually does when I ramble about stupid things.
But her voice was softer than usual. Her words clipped. Her hands tighter around her pencil.
Something was off.
I knew her well enough to spot the quiet difference.
But I didn't know how to fix it.
So, I did what I always did.
I made her laugh once between periods.
She smiled.
But it still didn't reach.
Lunch – Rooftop Quiet
I skipped the usual group lunch.
Just… needed a break from being everyone's favorite.
When I stepped onto the rooftop, Amaya was already there.
Alone.
She was sitting near the rail, legs folded, lunch untouched.
I walked over slowly.
"Hey."
She looked up.
"Hi."
I sat beside her. The wind tugged lightly at her hair. She didn't fix it.
"I missed you at lunch," I said.
"I needed air," she said.
"You always sit with me."
She looked away. "Not always."
That pause?
Cut deeper than anything.
The Conversation Starts
I leaned back, letting the silence stretch.
She opened her lunchbox, picked at a rice ball.
"I saw you yesterday," she said, voice low.
I glanced at her. "Where?"
"In the hall. With Sofia."
I swallowed.
Ah.
"She's… a lot."
Amaya nodded.
Then asked, without looking:
"Do you like her?"
I paused.
"I like teasing her," I said carefully. "And she definitely likes teasing back."
Amaya didn't react.
But I saw her knuckles go white around the plastic edge of her lunch.
The Break
"She's confident," Amaya said, still not meeting my eyes. "Funny. Pretty."
"You're all of those things too," I said.
Her voice cracked slightly.
"But not loud."
I blinked. "What?"
"I'm not loud," she repeated. "I don't know how to flirt. I don't know how to steal moments in closets or make people stare."
I didn't say anything.
Because I didn't know what to say yet.
"I just…" she said, gripping her sleeve, "keep waiting. Hoping you'll notice me the way you notice them."
Her words hit like a whisper through glass.
"I do notice you," I said.
She looked at me then. Her eyes were wet.
"Not enough," she whispered.
Everything Cracks
I reached out, touched her hand gently. "Amaya—"
"I know I'm not exciting," she said quickly, pulling back. "I'm not interesting or bold. But I've been here. Always here. And lately…"
She hesitated.
"Lately, I feel like I'm just fading behind everyone else."
My heart ached.
"You're not."
She gave a tiny smile. "Maybe not to you. But to everyone else? I'm just the quiet girl in the corner."
I shook my head. "They don't matter."
"I wish I believed that," she whispered.
The Moment Holds
The wind picked up. Her hair brushed her cheek.
I reached over without thinking and tucked it gently behind her ear.
Her breath hitched.
Our faces were close.
Closer than ever.
"Jay…" she whispered.
I froze.
Then slowly pulled back, resting my hands on my knees.
"I don't want to hurt you," I said quietly.
"You're not," she replied, though her voice shook.
But I wasn't so sure.
The Hug
She closed her lunchbox slowly. Then, to my surprise, she leaned sideways and rested her head against my shoulder.
Just stayed there.
Quiet.
Like if she didn't move, the moment wouldn't break.
"I'm scared," she said.
"Of what?"
"That one day, I'll wake up and you'll belong to someone else."
I didn't respond.
Because I didn't know how to promise otherwise.
After School – Brief Glimpse
Back in class, Amaya smiled a little more.
Talked a little more.
But something had changed.
Not in a bad way.
Not yet.
Just…
Deeper.
And when Sofia passed me on the way out—flashing her usual wink—
Amaya looked away.
And smiled.
Just not at her.
Evening – In My Room
I sat on my bed, staring at the ceiling again.
Amaya's words still echoed.
"I'm scared you'll belong to someone else."
And I didn't know what scared me more—
That she was right.
Or that I didn't have an answer.