The days of the following week stretched out, each one braided with the anticipation Sharon couldn't quite hide. Every morning she listened more intently to classmates' stories about Sid his boldness on the football field, the mischief, the laughter he left echoing down school corridors. She found herself smiling at details, tucking away rumors as if piecing together a secret puzzle, even as she told herself it didn't matter if he came or not.
But Sid never arrived. The desk in the corner where she imagined he'd sit remained stubbornly empty, and with every passing day, Sharon's excitement blurred softly into impatience and a tentative worry she refused to name.
Sia watched all this from just out of reach. She, too, listened to the Sid stories though in her chest, anticipation burned with a different ache: a private hope that he might notice her when he finally arrived. Each time Sharon casually mentioned Sid's absence, Sia felt her own nerves tighten; she counted the days by his missed appearances, telling herself it was just curiosity, not disappointment. But the truth was raw: she wanted Sid's gaze to find her first, wanted him to see her in the way she sometimes caught herself looking at him in memory.
One afternoon, frustrated by the slow unraveling of hope, Sharon approached Mrs. Anjali. She kept her tone light, masking her nervousness with practiced indifference. "Ma'am, will that new boy Sid still be joining us? Just curious, since you mentioned it last week."
Mrs. Anjali didn't miss a beat, offering a warm smile. "Sid is sorting out some school timetable issues, that's all. He'll be here soon."
Sharon let out a breath she'd been holding. "Oh, okay," she replied, feigning nonchalance she didn't quite feel.
Across the room, Sia caught the exchange. Jealousy pinched at her the way Sharon wondered about Sid, the way Mrs. Anjali spoke of him with such easy fondness. Sia wished the conversation would stop, wished Sharon's interest would fade. Deep down, she hoped Sid would come and, just once, see her the way she saw him: not as a bystander, but as someone worth stopping for.
When Mrs. Anjali left the room, another student from Sid's old school jumped into the gap. "You know about Sid, right? So many girlfriends legend, trust me. Once saw him with a girl behind the library seriously bold!" The stories cascaded: Sid's rumored kisses, the charm, the chaos.
Sharon listened quietly, neither judgmental nor breathless, storing away each new piece. Sia's expression dulled; she didn't want to hear about Sid's kisses or all the girls that used to circle him. She tried to tune it out, tried not to compare herself to those unseen faces.
Meanwhile, in a different part of the city, Sid was tangled in end-of-term schedules and too many promises. At odd hours, when the world went quiet for a beat, his mind wandered back to the study class, to the possibility of stepping through that door and finding what, exactly? He didn't know, except that he hadn't forgotten Sharon's steady eyes or the strange gravity she carried.
Back in the classroom, two girls sat side by side: Sharon, her curiosity bright but contained, and Sia, quietly humming with hope and uncertainty, wondering if longing alone could ever tilt the scales in her favor.