Chapter 1 – A Quiet Day
Muhammed Ali had arrived at the classroom earlier than usual.
He sat by the window.
Placed his bag quietly on the floor.
The class hadn't filled up yet.
He didn't like noise.
People talking loudly,
trying to prove themselves…
All of it felt unnecessary to him.
For Muhammed Ali,
the important things were usually silent.
He looked outside.
The sky was cloudy.
"Another ordinary day," he thought.
The door opened.
Students began to enter the classroom.
Among them was a girl who seemed to walk quietly,
as if she didn't want to be noticed.
Without realizing it, Muhammed Ali looked at her.
She sat down at one of the back desks.
As she tucked her hair behind her ear,
she lifted her head for just a moment.
Their eyes met.
It lasted only a second.
But Muhammed Ali felt his heart
speed up for no clear reason.
He quickly turned his gaze back to the window.
"Don't overthink it," he told himself.
"It was just a moment."
Yet throughout the lesson,
he couldn't focus.
During the break, the classroom emptied.
Muhammed Ali stayed in his seat.
He liked the silence.
Suddenly, the girl's notebook fell to the floor.
Muhammed Ali stood up instinctively.
He picked it up and handed it to her.
— "I think this is yours."
The girl looked surprised, then smiled.
— "Thank you."
A short silence followed.
Muhammed Ali didn't know what to say.
Most of the time, he never did.
The bell rang.
The girl left the classroom.
Muhammed Ali sat back down.
But for the first time,
there was a strange feeling inside him.
It wasn't happiness…
nor was it discomfort.
Just this thought:
"Today wasn't ordinary."
"..."
A Quiet Day (Second Half)
The next lesson began.
Muhammed Ali tried to focus on the board,
but his thoughts kept drifting away.
Every now and then,
his eyes moved on their own.
To the back of the classroom.
The girl was sitting there quietly,
listening, writing,
existing without trying to stand out.
That was what caught his attention.
She wasn't loud.
She wasn't trying to be noticed.
Just like him.
"Why do I care?" he thought.
He looked back at his notebook.
The words on the page meant nothing.
Lunch break came.
Students rushed out,
laughing, shouting,
talking about things Muhammed Ali never felt close to.
He walked slowly through the corridor.
At the end of the hall, near the stairs,
he saw her again.
She was standing alone,
looking at her phone.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Say something.
No, don't.
It would be awkward.
He walked past her.
But just as he did—
— "Hey."
He stopped.
He turned around.
She was looking at him.
— "Thanks again… for earlier."
Muhammed Ali nodded slightly.
— "No problem."
Another silence.
But this one felt different.
Short…
yet warm.
— "You're pretty quiet," she said.
He didn't deny it.
— "So are you."
She smiled.
Not wide.
Not forced.
Just real.
— "Maybe."
The bell rang again.
— "See you," she said softly,
and walked away.
Muhammed Ali stood there for a moment.
His chest felt light.
And that surprised him.
That evening,
Muhammed Ali lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He replayed the day in his mind.
The glance.
The silence.
The short conversation.
Nothing special.
Yet…
everything felt different.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time in a long while,
he wasn't thinking about tomorrow with boredom.
He was curious.
And curiosity,
he knew,
was dangerous