Vivian Sterling - present
Vivian pressed her hand against the cool metal handle of the double doors and pushed them open with a gentle creak. The sound was familiar eerily familiar and it made her chest tighten. It had been ten years since she last walked these halls, and yet, for one fleeting second, she felt like she was eighteen again.
The air smelled the same too: floor wax, faintly burnt coffee from the teacher's lounge, and the chalky scent of old textbooks. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. For a woman who had wandered from place to place most of her life, scents like these anchored her. The school hadn't changed. The walls were still lined with faded student artwork, motivational posters that looked like they had been here since the 90s, and trophy cases glimmering under the hallway lights.
She was twenty-eight now, a grown woman with responsibilities, deadlines, and the occasional late-night worry about bills. And yet here she was, walking through the halls of her teenage years, the very place where she'd once laughed, cried, and most of all met.
𝘙𝘶𝘢𝘯..
Her heels clicked softly against the tiles as she strolled down the hall, her pace unhurried. With each step, her fingertips brushed across the cool lockers. She half expected one of them to pop open with a slam, a student dashing out a textbook or shoving in a backpack at the last second before the bell rang.
The lockers whispered back at her in memories scenes of whispered secrets, scribbled notes, laughter bouncing against the metal doors. She almost swore she could hear echoes of her younger self, fumbling with a stubborn lock she never quite mastered, cheeks burning when someone teased her for being late to class again.
"Good morning, Mr. Gil" Vivian greeted warmly when she spotted a familiar figure ahead.
The old janitor was still there stooped a little more, his hair whiter than before, but unmistakably the same Mr. Gil who had been a fixture of the school for decades. His uniform looked fresh and pressed, though his heavy ring of keys still clanked against his belt as he shuffled along with his mop bucket.
He lifted his head and squinted at her before recognition dawned in his eyes.
"Well, I'll be damned " he muttered. "Vivian. Didn't think I'd see you back here."
Vivian smiled, a warmth filling her chest. "It's good to see you, Mr. Gil. How are the kids treating you these days?"
Mr. Gil let out a long huff, rolling his eyes. "Same as always. Just like you and the others used to running through the halls, making messes, thinking the world belongs to them."
Vivian laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the hallway. "That does sound like us. Well, they're still kids. Let them enjoy themselves a little."
"Yeah, yeah" Mr. Gil grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "I've been enduring it for thirty years, and I'll probably be enduring it until the day I drop."
Vivian tilted her head, her smile softening. "Thirty years... you really have been here through it all, haven't you?"
"Too long if you ask me," he muttered, though there was a flicker of pride in his eyes.
"Well, keep enduring it just a little longer, Mr. Gil. You're part of what makes this school what it is."
"Flattery won't make me mop any faster," he said, but she could tell he was secretly pleased.
"Goodbye, Mr. Gil. Enjoy your day."
He huffed again before pushing his mop bucket into a classroom. The door creaked shut behind him, leaving Vivian alone once more with her thoughts.
Her smile lingered as she stood in the hallway, memories tugging at her. She remembered how Mr. Gil used to chase students out of the halls with that same grumpy look on his face. She remembered the time Ruan had gotten in trouble for riding his skateboard down the corridor, and how Mr. Gil had confiscated it, calling it "evidence of foolishness."
Ruan.
The name echoed in her mind, heavy with memories.
And yet, somehow, their paths had crossed. Somehow, that untouchable boy had become her closest friend. But also lovers.
Vivian let out a long breath, her chest aching as the weight of nostalgia pressed down on her.
She glanced at her watch. Five more minutes until the students came rushing in, flooding the halls with noise and life.
When she entered her classroom the very same classroom she had once sat in as a teenager the room was quiet and still. Rows of desks stood neatly in place, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and casting warm patterns on the floor. She ran her hand along the nearest desk, the wood smooth beneath her fingers.
"Hmmm..." she murmured, looking around. "Every time I walk into this place, it feels like going back ten years."
Her voice was soft, as though she were speaking to the empty chairs themselves, as if they might understand.
She could almost see her classmates again laughing, whispering, passing notes. And at the back of the room, leaning casually in his seat with that infuriating grin, Ruan.
Her lips parted as a memory slid into focus.
The first time she'd seen him up close. She had been the new girl, nervous, awkward, clutching her books to her chest like a shield. She'd slipped into class late that morning, cheeks flaming, hoping to vanish into the back row. But the only empty seat was beside him Ruan, the boy everyone seemed to know.
He had looked at her, smirk tugging at his lips, and whispered, "You always make an entrance like that?"
Her stomach had dropped. The whole class laughed softly, but not cruelly. Somehow, his teasing made her feel seen, not humiliated.
That was the beginning.
Vivian shook her head at the memory, brushing invisible dust from her desk. So much had begun right here, in this very room. Laughter, secrets, friendship that turned into something she still couldn't quite name without her throat tightening.
The bell hadn't rung yet, but already she could hear faint footsteps echoing down the hallway. Soon, students would burst in, filling the air with chatter and energy, and she would return to the present. But for now, she let herself sink into the past just for a little while longer.
She whispered to the empty room, as though the ghosts of her teenage years might be listening. "It feels like yesterday, Ruan."
Her voice cracked softly, and she drew in a steadying breath.
Ten years later, the memories still lived here, pressed between the bricks and the pages of notebooks long thrown away. And so did he.
.
.
.
The shrill ring of the school bell cut through the silence like a blade, jolting Vivian from her thoughts. She straightened quickly, the old reflex returning how many times had she once jumped at that very sound, scrambling to get to class before the second bell?
Now, she sat at the teacher's desk, hands folded neatly, watching as the once-empty hallways outside came alive.
Footsteps thundered, laughter erupted, and the clatter of lockers being slammed shut echoed down the corridor. Moments later, the door to her classroom swung open, and students began to pour in. They came in groups, chattering, bumping shoulders, tugging each other's backpacks. Some looked excited, others nervous, but all carried that unmistakable air of youth the restless energy of lives just beginning.
Vivian's chest tightened.
She watched them with a bittersweet ache, as though she were looking through a window into her own past. She saw herself in their faces in the shy girl clutching her notebook, in the loud boy slapping his friend's shoulder as he laughed too hard, in the quiet student slipping quickly to the back row hoping not to be noticed.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘴. 𝘔𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘶𝘢𝘯...
The thought of his name was like a weight pressing against her heart. She wished, fiercely and suddenly, that she could go back just for one day. To be young again. To feel her heart race at the smallest glance. To live in that blur of teenage chaos and young love once more.
But time had marched on, unrelenting. And she was no longer a girl. She was their teacher now.
The students trickled to their desks, voices gradually quieting as they settled in. A few cast curious glances at her, probably wondering what kind of teacher she would be. Vivian let them get comfortable, giving them a few moments before she rose from her chair.
"Good morning, class" she said, her voice carrying warmly across the room. "I'm your new English teacher, Ms. Sterling."
She paused for a moment, scanning the faces that looked back at her some polite, some skeptical, some already daydreaming about anything other than school.
"Now" she continued, "most teachers prefer to be called by their last name. But I'd like you to call me by my first name Vivian."
The corners of her lips curved into a smile. She wanted them to feel at ease, to feel that she wasn't just another strict authority figure. She wanted to be approachable. And maybe, deep down, part of her longed to blur the lines a little to still feel connected to the student she had once been in this very room.
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then a voice came from the back of the room.
"Ms. Sterling" a boy drawled lazily, "do we really have to do work on the first day?"
A ripple of laughter moved through the class. Vivian's smile didn't waver.
"Well" she replied lightly, folding her arms, "I could make you write an essay right now..." She let the words hang dramatically, earning a few groans. Then she tilted her head, her smile softening. "Or... I could tell you a story."
That got their attention.
A girl in the first row straightened eagerly. "Wait... you went to Wesley High School, didn't you?"
Vivian nodded. "Yes. This very one."
Another student, sitting off to the right, raised his brows. "Did you graduate from here too?"
Vivian laughed, shaking her head in mock offense. "Of course I did. Don't I look like a proud graduate?"
The class chuckled at her playful tone, some relaxing visibly.
"Well" another voice chimed in, this one from a boy lounging against his desk near the window, "if you really went here, then let's hear about it. Tell us your wonderful experience at Wesley."
A murmur of agreement spread through the room. Some students leaned forward, genuinely intrigued. Others smirked, clearly more interested in hearing a teacher embarrass herself than in any real story. But Vivian didn't mind.
She glanced around at their faces, her smile tugging wider. They don't know what they're asking for, she thought. They don't know the kind of memories this place holds for me.
"Well then" she said softly, her voice laced with nostalgia, "let's start from the very beginning."
The classroom quieted as she sat on the edge of her desk, folding her hands in her lap. Her gaze drifted around the room, but in her mind she wasn't seeing her students anymore. She was seeing herself ten years younger, wide-eyed and unsure, clutching her books as she walked into this very classroom for the first time.
She took a deep breath..