I stepped off the bus, backpack digging into my shoulders, and squinted at the campus. Too many people. Too loud. Too… everything. Students streamed past in groups, laughing, talking, carrying coffee like they owned the place. Me? I was just existing.
I kept my hands in my pockets, trying to shrink into myself. Every confident step someone else took made me feel slower, smaller, more invisible. Somehow, I had made it this far, and yet my chest kept tightening like the world had reserved a special section of anxiety just for me.
I followed the current of students toward the lecture hall. Some were checking schedules, others chatting with friends, a few already standing in line at the doors. I didn't know where my classroom was, of course. I wandered, glancing at signs, hoping nobody noticed the clueless guy pacing awkwardly. Finally, I found the number above a door. Slight relief.
Inside, the hall was buzzing. Chairs scraped floors, notebooks snapped open, people laughed, whispered greetings. I shuffled in, scanning for an empty seat, trying not to bump into anyone. Of course, my backpack caught the edge of a chair, sending a small clatter across the room. Heads turned. I froze, muttered "Sorry," and bolted to the nearest empty seat like a coward.
The introductions began. Names, hometowns, majors. I dreaded my turn. Of course, when it came, my voice cracked like a dying animal.
"Uh… I'm… Jae Han," I croaked. A few polite chuckles. "Computer Science / Data Science… yeah." Smooth. Perfect. I practically sprinted back to my seat, hiding behind my notebook, muttering silent prayers for the floor to swallow me whole.
Settling in, I tried to focus on anything besides my own embarrassment. The room was alive with energy — laughter, whispers, chairs scraping — a reminder that I didn't belong here. And then, out of the corner of my eye… she was there.
Not dramatic. Not cinematic. Just… sitting calmly, pulling out her bag, scanning the room, adjusting her notebook like she had nothing to worry about. Her presence drew my attention without permission. Small gestures — the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the soft laugh she gave at a comment someone made, the quiet focus in her eyes — held me captive.
I tried not to stare. I failed.
From the corner of my vision, I noticed another guy waving at her. Tall, confident, smiling like he already owned this place. My rival, though I didn't know it yet, had claimed some invisible space around her.
Finally, introductions ended. Relief? Maybe. My chest still thumped like a drum in a tiny, sad parade. That's when the guy sitting next to me leaned over, grinning.
"Hey, I'm Jason Lee," he said. "Don't sweat the intros. Everyone sucks at those. But seriously… who do you think is the most beautiful girl here?"
I blinked. Did he really just ask that?
Jason laughed at my frozen expression. "Come on, man. You've been staring at someone. Admit it."
I wanted to die. Or vanish. Or both.
"Uh… I don't know," I mumbled.
Jason shook his head. "Bullshit. You're human. You noticed her. It's fine. Just… try not to make it obvious."
I nodded. Tried to focus on my notebook again. Failed immediately. Every glance she made — adjusting her hair, smiling at someone across the room, laughing softly — kept pulling my attention back. I didn't know her name. Didn't know anything. And yet, somehow, that small presence in the middle of the room made me hyper-aware of every mistake I'd ever made, every awkward step I'd ever taken.
Finally, a classmate whispered her name to someone nearby. "Emily Kim," they said. A jolt went through me. Emily Kim. Design major — Graphic / UX / Digital Media, apparently. I noted that quietly, pretending to be absorbed in my notes, though my brain refused to cooperate.
Jason nudged me again. "Ten minutes of staring, man. You're pathetic. But it's fine. We'll survive this together."
I didn't argue. Didn't fight. Just slumped back in my seat and tried to disappear into my notebook again, failing spectacularly.
I glanced again at the tall guy who had waved at Emily. His name was Michael Chen, Business major. He had a laugh that could fill a room and a way of moving that made it obvious why Emily had smiled at him. I didn't know if he was charming, nice, or just lucky. Probably all of the above. My chest sank a little.
Jason leaned closer, whispering, "Don't worry, man. You'll figure something out… eventually. Maybe."
I sighed, stared at my blank notebook, and thought about tomorrow. About Emily. About Michael. About all the tiny, awkward steps I'd have to take just to exist in this place without being invisible.
Walking through the campus, fumbling my way to class, watching everyone else act like they belonged, and finally noticing Emily — it wasn't an epiphany. Just a slow, sharp realization: I was painfully aware of being a loner, painfully aware of awkwardness, and painfully aware that I was watching people who seemed to live effortlessly while I existed quietly in the background.
And somehow… that was enough. Enough to notice her. Enough to note my rival. Enough to know that tomorrow, the day after, and the days after that, I'd keep watching. And maybe — not now, not yet — I'd have to do something about it.
First day. Already embarrassed. Already observing. Already painfully aware. And for the first time, the quiet hope that maybe something could happen… just a tiny flicker.