The new school did not welcome her with comfort. It welcomed her with silence. New corridors, unfamiliar faces, conversations that carried no memory of who she used to be.
For the first time in years, she was just another name on the attendance list. No history. No heartbreak attached to her identity.
She had changed more than her surroundings. She spoke less. Observed more. Pain had sharpened her awareness.
She no longer rushed into friendships or offered her trust without thought. There was a quiet strength in her now — cautious, experienced, guarded.
And then she noticed him.
It wasn't dramatic. No cinematic moment. Just a glance that lasted a second too long. He did not try too hard. Did not force conversation. But there was something steady in the way he looked at her — not curiosity, not pity. Recognition.
Days passed. The glances became familiar. The silence between them felt less awkward, more intentional. She didn't understand why her heart felt unsettled again.
She had promised herself she would not repeat old mistakes.
But this did not feel like a mistake.
This felt different.