The classroom was already bright with morning sunlight when I arrived.
I wasn't the first—
I never was.
A few of my friends were gathered near my desk, their voices soft but lively, filling every corner of the room with warm morning chatter.
"Yiyi! You're finally here," said Lin Xia, my closest friend since middle school. She tugged gently at my sleeve as I set my bag down. "We were just talking about something very interesting."
I smiled lightly. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is!" another girl giggled. "Apparently, there's a rumor that someone from Class 2-B has a crush on you."
The group burst into excitement, leaning in like they were about to unveil some forbidden secret.
I blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
Lin Xia grinned and lowered her voice dramatically. "It's Li Rui—you know, the guy who practically lives on the basketball court. Someone saw him walking past our classroom yesterday. On purpose."
The girls erupted again—laughing, teasing, talking over each other.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling a faint warmth rise to my cheeks.
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," I said softly, wearing the polite smile I'd practiced a hundred times.
"Come on, Yiyi," one of them teased. "You must've noticed him, right? He's pretty good-looking!"
"I've noticed he's loud," I said, which made them break into another wave of laughter.
Lin Xia nudged me playfully. "You're way too modest. Half the school thinks you're impossible to approach. Maybe he just doesn't know how to talk to you."
I smiled again—small, composed, the one that made everything seem effortless.
It was easier than saying the truth:
that the attention—the rumors, the stares, the whispers—didn't make me feel admired.
They made me feel like I was being watched through glass.
I didn't dislike anyone.
I just didn't know how to respond to something I couldn't understand.
Sometimes I wished people would stop calling me distant or perfect.
I wasn't cold—just quiet.
There's a difference.
The bell rang, signaling homeroom.
My friends scattered back to their seats, still giggling about who liked who, whose confession was coming next, and what falling in love before graduation was supposed to feel like.
I rested my chin on my hand and looked out the window.
Morning light shimmered against the glass, warm and bright.
Students hurried across the courtyard—some chatting, some running, some half-asleep.
Among them, a tall figure with messy brown hair walked toward the gate, holding a book under one arm.
I didn't know his name then.
But something about the calm way he moved—quiet, detached, almost invisible—caught my attention for just a moment before I looked away.
The bell rang again.
And the day began, just like any other.
******
By the time the lunch bell rang, the classroom emptied in seconds.
The air smelled faintly of chalk and sunlight as I packed my notebook, falling into step with Lin Xia and the others as we headed toward the cafeteria.
It was Friday, which meant the lunch line would be long and the cafeteria louder than usual.
Still, there was a kind of comfort in it—the familiar chatter, the clinking of trays, the air conditioner humming like it was giving up.
We waited in line, laughing quietly at Xia's commentary about a teacher's questionable tie, then grabbed our lunches and scanned the room for an empty table.
That's when I saw Li Rui.
He sat near the center with a group of Class 2-B boys—loud, confident, overflowing with the kind of energy that filled every corner of the room.
When one of his friends noticed us, I saw the grin spread across their faces. Something was coming.
Sure enough, Li Rui's friend nudged him—hard—and then called out loudly:
"Hey! There's space here. You girls can sit with us!"
Li Rui shot him a glare, but it was too late. His friends were already halfway out of their seats, sliding over to make room.
I froze for a moment, tray balanced in my hands.
Lin Xia blinked.
The others giggled behind me, exchanging looks that said go on, Yiyi.
"Ah, we—" I began, but they were already nudging me forward.
"Come on, Yiyi," one whispered. "They're being nice. It's just lunch!"
"It's fine," I said quickly, forcing a polite smile. "We can find another table."
Lin Xia looked at me—really looked.
Her bright expression softened, and she didn't push me.
Instead, she casually turned away and started searching the room again.
"Over there!" she said suddenly, pointing to a small table by the windows, tucked beneath a patch of sunlight and a cluster of potted plants.
Relief washed through me.
"Sorry," Lin Xia said to the boys. "We already found a spot. But thanks for the offer."
Li Rui's friends groaned dramatically, complaining loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear.
Li Rui just gave a small, awkward smile and nodded.
"Sure. Maybe next time."
"Maybe," I said politely, though we both knew there wouldn't be.
Once we sat outside, the noise of the cafeteria faded into a distant buzz.
The air was fresh, carrying hints of warm rice and leaves.
I exhaled, realizing I'd been holding my breath.
"Thanks," I said to Lin Xia, offering a small, grateful smile. "For... earlier."
She laughed softly and waved her hand. "Please. We've been friends too long for me not to notice when you're about to run away."
I smiled—more genuinely this time.
"Still... thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," she said, taking a bite of her lunch. "Friends look out for each other."
For a moment, everything felt calm again—sunlight glinting off the table, quiet laughter drifting from inside.
But somewhere in that calm, a faint feeling lingered—
a sense that the predictable rhythm of my days had started to shift.
Even if I didn't know how.
Or why.
******
The walk back from the cafeteria was filled with the usual chatter—
bits of gossip, complaints about homework, laughter echoing down the hallway.
I stayed one step behind the others, tray still warm in my hands, listening more than I spoke.
We reached the classroom a few minutes before homeroom.
Sunlight slanted across the desks, painting everything in soft gold.
Most students hadn't returned yet; only a few scattered voices and the faint, rhythmic tapping of someone's pen filled the room.
"So..." one of the girls said, turning toward me with an eager grin, "what really happened back there, Yiyi?"
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You know," another chimed in, smile teasing, "when Li Rui invited us to sit with them. You looked calm, but he definitely wanted you to say yes."
Their tone was playful, but a small knot tightened in my chest.
"I just thought it would be too crowded," I replied evenly. "And we found another table anyway."
They exchanged glances—
the kind that silently complained that's not the answer we wanted.
Before they could press further, Lin Xia spoke up, resting her chin on her hand.
"She's right," she said. "The table was packed, and it would've been awkward. Besides, the outdoor seats were nicer."
The girls sighed in unison, half teasing, half honestly disappointed.
"Unfortunate," one muttered. "It could've been a nice chance for you, Yiyi. Li Rui's pretty popular, you know."
"I know," I said softly, offering a small smile. "But it's fine. Really."
Just like that, their curiosity faded.
The conversation drifted to weekend plans, new movies, and a café someone wanted to try.
"Yiyi, you should come with us after school," one suddenly said. "We might go to the arcade, then grab bubble tea. It'll be fun!"
I hesitated, adjusting the stack of books on my desk.
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I might need to go home early today."
"Oh, come on, just for a little while," another urged.
I smiled gently. "I'll think about it."
That answer usually satisfied them—
not a yes, not a no, just a promise suspended in the middle.
They nodded, pleased, and moved on to another topic.
As their laughter filled the room again, I looked out the window.
The sky was pale and clear.
A few leaves drifted past the frame, and faintly, I could see my own reflection in the glass—
calm, composed, unreadable.
Sometimes I wondered if that version of me—
the polite, gentle girl everyone assumed I was—
had been shaped by my own hesitation.
A smile for the right moments.
Soft words.
Never saying what I truly felt.
The bell rang, pulling me back.
The classroom stirred as students returned from lunch, the calm replaced by the steady rhythm of another ordinary day.
******
When the final bell rang, the classroom poured into the soft glow of the setting sun.
Students spilled into the hallway, laughing, calling out to each other—the usual end-of-day noise filling the air like warm static.
Lin Xia packed her things beside me and turned with her familiar bright smile.
"So, what's your plan for today? The others are still waiting to see if you'll come."
I hesitated, fiddling with the strap of my bag.
"I'm... not sure. Maybe I should head home."
Xia tilted her head, studying me.
"You said that yesterday too."
"I'll ask my mom first," I said quietly.
She nodded, understanding that meant maybe—which, for me, was already a step forward.
Outside, the air smelled faintly of autumn leaves and food from the nearby stalls.
I took out my phone and typed a quick message.
Yiyi: Mom, is it okay if I go out with my friends for a bit after school?
Mom: Of course. Just don't stay out too late, okay?
Yiyi: I won't.
I stared at the screen for a moment before slipping my phone into my bag.
"She said yes."
Xia's expression brightened instantly.
"Good! The others will be thrilled. Come on!"
The arcade was as loud and colorful as ever—flashing lights, rapid digital music, the sharp clatter of buttons being hit far too quickly.
My friends dove into the chaos immediately, laughing as they challenged each other at rhythm games and racing machines.
I wasn't good at either, but their laughter was contagious.
When they dragged me into the photo booth, I smiled for the camera almost without thinking.
The photos came out full of color and bright expressions—Lin Xia flashing a peace sign, someone sticking their tongue out, and me smiling just enough to blend in.
Afterward, we bought bubble tea from the shop near the station.
The sweetness of brown sugar pearls lingered on my tongue as the sky deepened to a faint purple.
It was getting late, so we started walking home together.
Our route passed the school gate, where a few students from after-school clubs were heading out—among them, the basketball team.
They were laughing loudly, slinging their bags over their shoulders, still in their practice shirts.
I recognized Li Rui immediately.
"Hey, look who it is!" one of his friends called. "The girls from Class 2-A!"
Xia whispered, "Oh no, here we go again," trying not to laugh.
The boys slowed, falling into step near us.
"So," one of them said casually, "we're thinking of hanging out tomorrow. Grab food, maybe shoot some hoops. You girls should come."
The invitation floated easily—playful, confident.
My friends exchanged glances, and one of them answered before I could even breathe.
"Sure, why not? Sounds fun!"
Li Rui hadn't said anything yet.
His friends gave him looks—that look—the kind that said ask her already.
One even shoved him gently forward.
He stumbled a little, scratching the back of his neck.
"Uh... Zhao Yiyi," he began, voice softer than usual, "are you... free tomorrow?"
I blinked, caught off guard again.
For a brief moment, everyone froze, watching, waiting.
The air felt heavier with their expectations.
I offered a faint, polite smile—the same one I always used when I didn't know how to respond.
"I'm not sure," I said. "I'll have to see."
He nodded quickly.
"Right. Of course. Just... let me know."
"Sure."
As we continued walking, the boys' laughter returned, the tension dissolving as fast as it had come.
But my friends exchanged looks behind me—knowing, amused, far too curious.
When we finally parted ways at the intersection, Lin Xia leaned closer, her voice low and teasing.
"You know, he's not going to give up easily."
I exhaled, watching the evening traffic blur into streaks of light.
"Why is he so persistent?" I murmured.
"And why are you all so eager to push me toward him?"
Xia smiled—soft, patient.
"Because we want you to open up a little. You don't always have to be so careful, Yiyi."
Careful.
That word lingered long after we said goodbye.