Tuesday morning was different.
Not in an obvious way. The classroom still hummed with the same chatter. The courtyard still held its usual sunlight. The teachers still droned through the day's lessons with the same rhythm as always. But to me, it felt different because of one thing—he had said my name.
Ren Jiayun.
It echoed in my mind even as I copied notes from the blackboard. No one had ever spoken my name like that before, casually, like it belonged in his mouth. Not forced. Not hesitant. Just… natural.
I tried not to look at him too often, but my eyes wandered anyway. He was by the window again, of course, a faint breeze ruffling his hair. He had a strange way of existing in the classroom—present, but not confined. Even when he was quiet, he drew attention. People leaned toward him without realizing it.
During the first half of the morning, nothing unusual happened. He didn't speak to me. I didn't expect him to. I told myself that yesterday had just been a small moment, a fleeting kindness he would forget by the next day.
But then, just before the lunch bell, something shifted.
The teacher announced a paired assignment. A history presentation. The class erupted in a soft wave of whispers as everyone scrambled to choose their partners. I stayed seated, quietly organizing my notes, knowing exactly what would happen.
I was always the one left for last.
It wasn't that people disliked me. I was simply… forgettable. Neat. Reliable. Not exciting enough to fight over.
The teacher scanned the room. "Yixin," she said finally, "you can partner with—"
"Me," a voice interrupted.
I froze.
Ren Jiayun stood with one hand in his pocket, his expression unreadable but his voice steady. "I'll work with her."
The room went oddly quiet for a second. I felt eyes on me.
The teacher hesitated, clearly surprised. "Alright… Ren and Yixin, then."
I swallowed, unsure how to react as he walked toward my desk and leaned casually against it. "Looks like we're partners," he said, his tone light, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I managed a small nod. "I guess so."
He glanced at my notebook. "You've probably already memorized half the chapter."
I blinked. "Not memorized, but… I read ahead."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Good. Saves us both time."
For the rest of the class, he stayed by my desk. Not hovering, not invasive—just there. He flipped through the textbook lazily, occasionally asking me what I thought about the topic. Not because he needed the answer, I realized, but because he wanted to hear me speak.
When the bell finally rang, we agreed to meet after school in the library to start working.
It was a small thing. A simple assignment. But my chest felt strange all afternoon, as if something was quietly rearranging itself inside me.
After the final bell, I gathered my books and walked to the library. It was quiet there, the smell of paper and old wood filling the air. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long, soft shadows across the tables.
He was already there.
Ren sat at the far end, his chair tilted slightly back, a history book open in front of him. He looked up as I approached, his eyes catching the light in a way that made my steps falter for just a moment.
"You're late," he said, though his tone held no real reproach.
"I'm five minutes early," I replied, checking the clock.
He smirked faintly. "Exactly. Late for me."
I sat across from him, unsure how to respond to that. He closed the book with a soft thud and rested his chin on his hand. "So, how do you want to do this?"
I opened my notebook carefully. "We could divide the topic. I can handle the timeline and key figures, and you could—"
"I'd rather not divide it," he interrupted smoothly. "Let's do it together. Makes it easier."
I hesitated. "Together?"
He leaned back slightly. "You don't like working with people, do you?"
"It's not that," I said quickly. "I just… I'm used to working alone."
He tilted his head, studying me. "You're always alone."
The words weren't harsh. They were simply an observation, but they made me feel suddenly seen in a way I wasn't prepared for.
"I don't mind it," I said softly.
"Maybe you don't," he murmured. "But still… you're different."
There it was again. Different.
Before I could reply, he reached over and flipped my notebook toward him. His fingers brushed the edge of the page lightly as he scanned my handwriting—neat, precise, every word carefully written. "You really do this for every subject?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it helps me remember," I answered simply.
He hummed thoughtfully, then set the notebook down. "You're the type who plans everything ahead, aren't you?"
I hesitated. "…Is that a bad thing?"
His lips curved into a small smile. "Not bad. Just… very you."
We worked quietly after that. I read aloud from the textbook while he took brief notes, though his handwriting was just as messy as I remembered. Sometimes he asked a question that made me stop and think in a way I hadn't before. Other times, he made a quiet comment that almost felt like a joke, though I couldn't always tell if he was serious.
Time passed strangely. Slow and fast all at once.
By the time we finished outlining the presentation, the library was nearly empty. The soft orange glow of the setting sun spilled across the table, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist.
As we packed up, he paused.
"You always walk home alone, right?"
I nodded cautiously.
He slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'll walk with you."
I blinked. "You don't have to—"
"I know." His gaze met mine steadily. "I want to."
So we walked.
The streets were quiet, the air cool and clean after the last few days of rain. We didn't talk much. But it wasn't an awkward silence—it was the kind that felt almost… safe.
Halfway down the road, he stopped and glanced at a small bakery. "Wait here."
Before I could ask why, he slipped inside. A minute later, he returned with two warm buns wrapped in paper. He handed one to me without a word.
I stared at it, then at him. "Why?"
"You didn't eat much at lunch," he said simply.
My throat tightened slightly. "You noticed?"
He gave a small shrug, looking away. "I notice things."
We walked the rest of the way slowly, eating in quiet bites. When we reached the corner near my street, he stopped.
"This is where you turn, right?"
"Yes."
He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See you tomorrow, Yixin."
It was only the second time he said my name. But it felt just as soft. Just as careful.
As I watched him walk away, I realized something quietly terrifying.
I was starting to look forward to tomorrow.