It was a regular morning.
Clouds hung low like tired thoughts, and Haruki walked through the school gate with his usual quiet steps, unnoticed like always.
Except today,
Someone new was standing near the notice board.
A girl.
She wasn't doing anything special just standing, clutching her bag, looking around like she was searching for a place
to belong. Hair tied loose, eyes calm, no nervous smile, no fake confidence. She didn't notice Haruki.But he noticed her not the way others would. It wasn't attraction.
It was something softer, gentler. Like finding a sentence in a book that mirrors your thoughts. He didn't know her name. Didn't even plan to ask. But that moment stayed with him like a half-finished poem quiet, incomplete, yet unforgettable.
The bell rang.
Haruki walked into class as always last, head low, slipping quietly into the back corner, the one near the window. He liked that seat. It let him look outside without being seen.
But today, something felt different.
A few desks ahead, in the third row from the left, she sat. The new girl. Same calmness. Same soft stillness. Like she wasn't trying to fit in. Just existing. She sat alone, her eyes fixed on her notebook.
Not scrolling on her phone. Not talking. Just drawing small flowers in the margins of the page. Haruki stared for a second too long. Then looked away. Something about her reminded him of his own silence like maybe, just maybe, she was carrying a kind of quiet too. For the rest of the class, he didn't write anything. Didn't look at the board. He just listened not to the teacher, but to the strange calmness her presence brought into the room.
Not love.
Not even a crush.
Just comfort. Like seeing a shade of yourself in someone else and feeling less
alone because of it.
Class ended.
Chairs screeched, voices rose, and bags zipped but Haruki stayed seated, as always, waiting for the room to clear. She didn't rush either. She stood slowly, adjusted the strap of her bag, and walked past him. That should've been it just another stranger passing by. But then, for a fleeting second she looked at him. Not accidentally, Not casually, A real look. Their eyes met not for long, but long enough for something wordless to pass between them. She didn't smile. She didn't say anything, Just looked,And left. Haruki sat frozen, his fingers resting on the corner of his notebook.He didn't know what it meant. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing.
But after weeks of feeling invisible, even "nothing" felt like something. He wrote that night. Not pages just one line, over and over again:
"I saw her, and for a second, I thought she saw me too"
The school day ended
just like always. And just like always, Haruki didn't rush out. He walked the long way home the back streets, the vending machines, the faded posters.His escape route.
But today
Just ahead, on the narrow path beside the small bakery, she was there. The same girl. Walking alone, No friends, No noise,
Just her and the soft sound of her steps.
Haruki's heart beat a little louder. He didn't mean to follow her it just happened. The road was theirs now. But when she slowed down to tie her shoelace near the old temple gate, their eyes met again. And this time She spoke.
"Do you always take this path?"
Her voice was softer than he imagined not shy, just gentle.
Haruki froze for a second. Then gave the smallest nod.
"Yeah... it's quieter,"
he replied, almost in a whisper.
She smiled faintly. " I like quiet."
A pause.
Then she looked up at the evening sky.
"The clouds look heavy.like they've been holding in tears for too long."
Haruki blinked.He'd thought that exact thing moments ago.His notebook was full of sentences like that unspoken unnoticed.
"You write?"
she asked suddenly, without looking at him.
He hesitated.
"How do you know?"
She shrugged.
"You've got ink on your fingers."
He looked down, and smiled, just a little.
They walked side by side for a few more steps. No more words. Just silence. But it wasn't the usual kind. This silence didn't ache, It healed.
At the corner where their paths would split, she stopped. Looked at him again.
Not deeply, Not romantically, Just curiously. As if she wanted to know morbut wasn't ready to ask yet.
"Bye," she said softly.
"Bye," Haruki whispered back.
And just before she turned away, she said one more thing almost playfully
"Bring your pen tomorrow."
Then she was gone.
Haruki stood still, holding that sentence like it was a secret only he was allowed to hear.
That night, he didn't just write. He rewrote, Again and again one line
"She saw the ink but maybe, just maybe she'll see the story too."