School felt the same as always—gray walls, buzzing lights, the constant hum of voices that weren't meant for her. She walked through the hallway with her head down, drifting between groups of people who never really saw her. Her bag felt heavier than usual, though maybe that was just the weight of another endless day.
When she stepped into class, the energy was different. People were whispering, laughing, shuffling in their seats with a kind of excitement that rarely filled the room. It didn't take long to find out why.
At the front of the class stood a new student. His name was Kai. The teacher introduced him, but her voice was drowned out by the rustling whispers and the soft giggles of the girls already leaning toward each other, already analyzing him like he was something to be owned.
Kai was tall, with sharp shoulders that made his frame stand out even in the loose school uniform. His hair was jet black, falling in uneven strands that framed his face and sometimes drifted into his eyes when he moved. And those eyes—dark, bottomless, almost unsettling—were the kind that held weight, the kind that seemed to know things they shouldn't. His skin was pale against the black of his hair and eyes, giving him a striking presence that was impossible to ignore. He carried himself quietly, hands shoved in his pockets, as though the attention didn't touch him at all, as though he had been through far worse than whispers in a classroom. He looked around the room.
That was when it happened.
His gaze met hers.
It wasn't quick, not like the careless glances people threw at her before looking past her as if she didn't exist. He looked into her eyes—really looked. And for a moment, everything around her fell silent.
There was something in his expression, something she had never seen directed at her before. Not judgment. Not mockery. Not indifference. It was sadness, the kind of sadness that felt heavy and familiar. Like he knew. Like he could see through every mask she had ever worn and recognize the weight she carried beneath it.
Her chest tightened, and she quickly looked away, staring at the desk as though the wood grain could anchor her. She could still feel the echo of his eyes on her, like a light she wasn't sure she wanted but couldn't ignore.
Around her, her fake friends whispered about how handsome he was, about how he would never even notice someone like her. She nodded along, forcing the same hollow smile as always, pretending their words didn't cut.
But inside, a question grew—sharp, persistent.
Why had he looked at her that way?
And as she kept smiling, nodding, pretending, she glanced up for just a second—only to see him watching her again. His dark eyes weren't curious this time. They were knowing. His expression shifted, the sadness deepening, as if he could see straight through her forced laughter, as if he recognized that none of it was real.