Anne's eyes widened as the word "Admitted" flashed on her school portal. For a moment she just stared, frozen, then let out a sharp squeal.
"I got in!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Her parents rushed into the room, and when she showed them the screen, their faces lit up with joy. After all the months of uncertainty, after the nights she had whispered prayers and nearly given up, the waiting was finally over. Her friends sent her messages filled with excitement, and for the first time in a long while, Anne felt the weight on her chest lift.
She had two weeks to prepare before resumption. Two weeks to gather her things, calm her racing thoughts, and imagine the life that was waiting for her. To ease her nerves, she joined group chats for freshers, scrolling endlessly, hoping to make new friends before stepping into this unfamiliar world.
One morning, as she rubbed sleep from her eyes, she noticed a new link had been shared in one of the groups. Curious, she joined and found herself among even more fresh faces from her soon-to-be school. She typed a hesitant hi and scanned through introductions, hoping to find someone she could connect with.
That was when she saw his name. Jay.
Their first conversation was simple, almost ordinary, but it didn't stay that way for long. They exchanged pictures, and Anne couldn't help but smile at the warmth in his eyes. Soon, their chats stretched from morning till midnight, spilling into every part of her day. They laughed at silly jokes, confessed little secrets, and discovered they lived in the same state. The coincidences were endless, almost too good to be true.
Anne found herself looking forward to his messages, her heart quickening whenever his name lit up her screen. She didn't know why, but Jay felt different, familiar in a way that comforted her and exciting in a way that scared her.
Little did she know...
She was already drawn to him, almost without realizing it, and those faint sparks of attraction had begun to grow into something deeper. Excited yet uncertain, she confided in her friends about him, and judging by their reactions, they seemed just as thrilled for her—or at least, that's how it felt to her.
One evening, during one of their usual late-night conversations, she mentioned her plan to start working out once school resumed. His response came quickly: "We could hit the gym together." The thought lit her up inside, warming her in a way she hadn't expected.
But almost just as quickly, she dampened the moment. "I'm not really planning to meet anyone I've met online in real life," she admitted honestly.
And just like that, his presence on the screen shifted. His replies stopped. The silence stretched through the night, leaving her restless and guilty, replaying the words she had said.
By the next morning, his message still hadn't come. Anxious, she turned to her friend, confessing everything. Her friend, listening carefully, offered advice—steps she could take to mend the moment and make things right again.
Nervous and unsure of what to do, she worked up the courage to call him. The moment he picked up, panic rushed through her, and she quickly ended the call before a word could even be exchanged.
A second later, her fingers flew across the screen: "It was a mistake, sorry."
For a while, there was nothing. Then, finally, his reply appeared—just one word. "Okay."
She stared at it, her heart sinking. Gathering herself, she typed again: "Why didn't you reply to my messages?"
His answer came slower this time, deliberate. "Because I felt weird when you said you weren't planning on meeting anyone you met online. I was… surprised you didn't want to meet me. So I thought maybe I should just leave you alone."
Her chest tightened as guilt rushed in. She hadn't meant it like that. Quickly, she explained, "I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry."
There was a pause. Then his reply came, softer this time. "Okay… I understand."
And just like that, the tension between them eased. The words began to flow again, familiar and easy, as if the silence of the night before had never existed.