Lin An
I had been sitting by the window since morning, my cheek resting against my palm, watching the sky press heavier and darker with each passing minute—as if it might break and weep without warning. The air felt thick, restless, carrying the smell of rain that had not yet fallen.
The class was about to begin, but the room buzzed with chatter, a low roar of voices bouncing between the walls. No one seemed in any hurry to quiet down—until the door opened and our teacher stepped in.
"Alright, everyone, settle down," said Teacher Anna, her presence instantly taming the noise. We shuffled into our seats. I didn't bother to lift my head.
I barely registered her words until they shifted into something new. "So—hello, students. Today I'm introducing you to a new classmate. An Ran. She's in her last year of high school and will be studying with you all."
The name caught on my ear, but only for a second. A faint echo. A strange pull in the chest that I brushed aside.
"An Ran, you can sit wherever you want," the teacher continued.
And then came the voice—light, almost casual, but clear enough to cut through the room. "There."
My head turned. She was pointing directly at my seat.
That's when I saw her.
A faint smile curved her lips—though it wasn't the kind meant for strangers. It was the kind that said, I know you. The kind that unsettled something deep inside me.
"Fine, go," the teacher said, stepping aside.
She crossed the room slowly, unhurried. Her hair—straight, sleek—fell like black silk down her back, parted cleanly in the middle. And those eyes… those dark, sharp eyes that didn't leave mine for even a second, holding me there as if the rest of the room no longer existed.
She sat down beside me, the space between us suddenly feeling far smaller than it was.
And with her sitting there, a hundred thoughts crowded my mind—unwelcome, pressing at the edges. I kept pushing them aside, forcing them back into the dark corners where I'd left them years ago. Letting them in would do no good.
I didn't know anything. I told myself that over and over. I didn't know.
So, I clung to what I did know. After class—go home. Eat. Head to work. Come back. Work some more. That was my life. My steady, unshaken routine.
Sometimes, yes, it bent under the weight of unexpected errands or obligations. But most days, it was predictable. Safe. And I intended to keep it that way.