The driver said, in a calm voice befitting the morning cold:
"We have arrived, Miss Yuna."
I slowly lifted my gaze from the window, staring at the school building behind the windshield. Everything looked as it did yesterday: the high fences, the courtyard trees trying to appear alive, the familiar faces moving with indifference. For a brief moment, a strange impression came over me... as if time wasn't passing, as if every morning here was a pale copy of the one before.
I reached my hand toward the door handle, but his voice stopped me before I pushed it:
"Miss... Have a happy day."
I turned toward him unconsciously. He was smiling, a small warm smile, with no exaggeration or pretense. A short word, ordinary anywhere else, but it fell inside me like a stone in still water. A happy day... for me? No one had ever said that phrase to me before, or perhaps I didn't remember anyone saying it with genuine intention.
I found nothing to respond with except a faint smile, but it wasn't a courtesy; it came out of me as if the word itself had drawn it out. At that moment, I felt something strange forming in my chest, an unfamiliar sensation, as if something small and warm was trying to make its way through the coldness I had long grown accustomed to.
I got out of the car slowly and stepped toward the stairs leading to the building. I could still feel the shadow of my smile on my face, as if it refused to disappear. Why? I wondered as I watched the tips of my shoes ascend step after step. Why do I seem happy because of a few words? Was it because someone addressed me kindly without ulterior motive? Or because I simply wasn't used to something beautiful being directed at me with no expectation in return?
I was immersed in those thoughts, until the silence was broken by a different voice, a feminine voice with a clear tone, carrying something of strength mixed with surprise:
"Yuna! Why didn't you call me yesterday?"
I slowly turned toward the source of the voice. It was a girl standing at the entrance of the side hall. Her bright yellow hair hung in neat strands, and her green eyes behind small glasses added sharpness and elegance to her face. She stood confidently, as if she knew her worth well.
She took a few steps toward me, her eyebrows raised with an unspoken question:
"What's wrong with you? Why are you being cold, unlike your usual self?"
I took a moment to study her features. I didn't need much to realize who she was. Han Si-eul. The name crept up from my depths before I could summon it. In the "original story" — that mysterious thing I can't explain — Han Si-eul was the only person capable of standing by Yuna's side, the person who resembled her in something others couldn't understand.
But now... facing her, I felt a long distance separating me from what I was supposed to be with her. I didn't know what to say, nor why she was waiting for a warm response from me as she used to.
I lowered my gaze for a moment, then slowly raised my head, trying to find within myself remnants of the "Yuna" she might have known. I found only a strange calm enveloping my words:
"I wasn't... in the mood to call."
Han Si-eul said, in a voice filled with reproach and concern:
"I was sick yesterday, that's why I was absent from school. I expected you to call me as usual... every time you used to do that. I thought that bastard Eric was trying to hurt you, so I was worried."
I remained silent for moments, staring at her bright face with green eyes behind the glasses. Her words seemed warm, but they stirred a strange wave inside me, something between gratitude and confusion. Finally, I said in a low, hesitant voice:
"He did come..."
Genuine surprise appeared on her features, she leaned slightly toward me and said:
"What? What happened to you?"
I lowered my gaze to the ground, as if the words I was about to say carried heavy weight:
"The truth... I threatened him."
Her eyes widened even more, then she suddenly laughed, shook her head and said:
"Hah, stop joking, Yuna. Come on, let's go to class."
I walked beside her through the long hallway. Her steps were confident, carrying a steady rhythm as if she always knew where she was going, while I felt that each step of mine was just an attempt to stay attached. Han Si-eul was not like other girls: she was the daughter of one of the richest businessmen, true, but she was also the daughter of his third wife, so she was often looked down upon by the children of the other wives. However, no one could risk insulting her publicly; she knew how to defend herself, and she had a sharp personality that made others retreat before testing her.
When we reached the classroom door, she preceded me lightly, opened the door, and entered as if she owned the place. Some students whispered her name, and others greeted her with quick smiles. She stood in the middle of a wave of attention, while I remained behind her for a moment, watching everything from an invisible distance.
Han Si-eul sat in her usual seat near the window and gestured for me to sit beside her. I breathed slowly as I approached. I felt scattered glances from here and there: some curious, some carrying a familiar glint of disdain. No one ever approached me except for a reason, or to say something that might hurt. I was used to that, but the feeling of disconnection from others never became easier.
As I slowly opened my bag, I heard her nearby voice:
"Yuna, why is your face so pale?"
Before I could answer, she lightly reached out and touched my forehead with the tips of her cool, soft fingers. The gesture was natural for her, but it struck me with an incomprehensible current, a mixture of warmth and anxiety. I remained silent, watching her hand nearby, as if I didn't know how I was supposed to react to simple kindness.
She said, tilting her head slightly:
"Oh... you seem fine."
She smiled lightly, that same smile that made her green eyes appear clearer, then withdrew her hand and sat up straight, busying herself with arranging her books.
I looked around me, saw classmates talking, laughing, exchanging remarks. In the midst of all that movement, I felt I was floating on the edge of the scene, that I existed physically but with no roots connecting me to anything here. Even Han Si-eul, despite her closeness, had a thin wall between us, a wall created by the distance between what I was supposed to be and what I am now.
I placed my hand on the desk surface, watching my fingers that looked strange in the light filtering through the window. I tried to breathe calmly, to gather something resembling focus, but a vast, extended emptiness remained in my chest, not even filled by others' concern for me.
The bell rang announcing the start of class, and relative silence filled the room as the teacher entered. I remained watching the black dots on the board, thinking about the word the driver had said in the morning — "happy day" — and how it still echoed faintly in my ear, colliding with all the coldness surrounding me, leaving a small trace I didn't want to lose.