My name is Nilou, and I'm a very stupid girl.
I could never figure out complex problems. I had no idea about astronomy, mathematics, linguistics—any of those scholarly subjects. I always ranked last in every exam.
Every time I was in class, I wanted to listen carefully, but as the teacher kept talking… and talking… and talking…
Watching the teacher's mouth opening and closing like a fish blowing bubbles, my head would start spinning. Before I knew it, I'd fall asleep at my desk.
My classmates said I snored when I slept and that my mouth opened and closed like a little fish.
After I got home, I asked my parents to buy me a fish. I stared at it for over ten minutes, then looked in the mirror—opening and closing my mouth, again and again.
Hehe, I really did look like a fish blowing bubbles.
I realized I still had a strength: at least my body language was good. I could imitate a fish blowing bubbles perfectly!
…But what was the use of that?
It wouldn't make Mom and Dad proud, and it certainly wouldn't help me become popular among the other kids.
I was still the girl no one expected anything from.
But as the saying goes, "Everyone has a chance to shine if they find the right stage." Eventually, I found mine: dancing!
When I was eight years old, a dance teacher noticed me by chance. I began studying under her, and not long after, I got my first chance to perform at the Grand Bazaar.
Before I went on stage, my teacher told me not to be nervous. "It's your first time. Just do your best," she said.
I told myself the same thing.
Backstage, I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, imagining that I was blowing bubbles. I pretended all my nerves were trapped inside those bubbles. As each bubble popped—pop!—my nervousness floated away.
…But I was still nervous.
When I stepped onto the stage, the residents of the Grand Bazaar welcomed me with warm applause. But in their eyes, I could still see disappointment.
They had come expecting the master's performance—but instead, a completely inexperienced girl was standing there.
I was so nervous, I made several mistakes.
I sneaked a glance at the audience. Just as I feared—disappointment. Some people looked bored. A few were even whispering to each other.
Then I saw him.
A little boy around my age, staring straight at me. His mouth was opened wider than a fish's, his eyes round like a goldfish's.
—What did that mean?!
Was he amazed that someone who danced so poorly was allowed on stage? Was he making fun of me for being dumb?
I got so angry! I had to dance better. I had to prove to him that at least I had one thing I was good at.
I danced with all my strength, pouring everything into it. By the time I stepped off stage, I was panting like a fish blowing bubbles.
But Master praised me. She said I did very well—especially in the second half, where she could already see a dancer's grace.
I ran out from backstage, excited to tell that boy—only to find he was already gone.
…What a shame. I didn't even know his name.
Thankfully, he returned to the Zubayr Theater the next day. I saw him again from backstage, his eyes full of anticipation.
What was he looking forward to? The master's performance, maybe? …Could it really be me?
I didn't have a performance scheduled that day, but I begged Master to let me dance anyway.
The moment I stepped onto the stage, I saw his eyes light up.
Was he… really here for me?
…So, someone actually expected something from me?
I looked into his eyes. He watched my every move as I danced. I don't even remember how I finished—it felt like the best performance of my life.
Afterward, I ran off stage to find him—but again, he had left.
This time, guards had chased him away.
Judging by the way he dressed, I could tell he was from a noble family—someone important.
How could a girl like me, born a commoner, stupid and talentless, ever be worthy of someone like him?
Still, he came back. Again and again.
And each time, I noticed it: sadness in his eyes, loneliness.
Why was he lonely?
Why did I feel sad, just seeing him like that?
I danced harder each time. And maybe it was my imagination—but whenever I finished, that loneliness seemed to vanish from his gaze.
…No, it wasn't my imagination.
From that day on, he came to every single one of my performances.
Each time, he brought sadness with him—and each time, he left lighter.
2,315 days. 815 performances. 815 moments where our eyes met.
His eyes were like the clearest night sky, and his pupils like stars gleaming within it.
And what did he see when he looked at me?
He was becoming more and more handsome.
And me? I was becoming more and more beautiful… Hehe. It's okay to secretly praise myself, right?
My name is Nilou. I'm a very stupid girl. I can't understand complex things. I used to just sit there and blow bubbles like a fish.
No one ever expected anything from me.
But now, there's someone who was saved—because of me.
The scholars of the Causality School once said that human needs can be divided into five levels: physiological, safety, emotional, esteem, and finally—self-actualization.
If I wanted to be academic about it, I'd say the reason he became the most important person in my heart is because he gave me "self-actualization."
But honestly, some things don't need such complicated explanations. It's enough to just believe what's in your heart.
2,315 days. 815 performances. 815 shared glances.
He only has to look at me, and his loneliness fades.
And when I look at him, I gain courage.
Am I dancing because I love dancing?
Or is it because of the applause in the Grand Bazaar?
Or… am I dancing for the person who always sits in the audience?
When I was fourteen, he sent me a Patisara flower through his guards.
Was that a coincidence?
The legend of the Patisara traces back to the Goddess of Flowers. It symbolizes romance and devotion.
I wanted to rush to find him. But he was still surrounded by guards. Would I just cause him trouble?
Could I express my feelings through dance? Would that annoy him?
Was I just being too sentimental?
…
I like Patisaras. I like him.
…
When I turned fifteen, he suddenly broke away from his guards and rushed into my dressing room.
I was stunned—but then, overjoyed.
We finally had our first conversation. He told me his name was Yilan.
What a beautiful name. Could the "Lan" in his name stand for Patisara?
I learned that all the times the theater faced trouble, it was him—quietly helping us behind the scenes.
He'd always been protecting me, like a knight.
And then, he said the words I'd dreamed of hearing:
"I like you."
"Please be my fiancée."
But…
Why did he say "repay" first?
The kind of pure feeling I longed for… shouldn't be tied to repayment.
I refused, almost instinctively. But before I could explain myself—he laughed and walked away.
…There was sorrow in that laugh.
I must've said the wrong thing. Again.
Nilou, you really are a stupid girl.
After that day, he never came to see my dances again. My world felt empty. Without him in the audience, I didn't even feel like dancing.
I searched and searched until I finally found out where he lived.
But when I saw him again, his eyes had changed.
They weren't like stars anymore. They were cloudy, filled with pain.
It made my heart ache.
I didn't know how to comfort him. I'm not good with words. But I could invite him to see me dance again. Maybe that would help—just like before.
But he rejected me. He even tried to drive me away.
Still, I couldn't leave. If I did, then everything between us would end.
So I asked him for help—any excuse to stay connected.
But again, I said the wrong thing.
His eyes became even more unfamiliar. And then… he asked me to do something terrible.
I know it's wrong. But I'm stupid, and when I speak, I always mess things up.
If doing that could erase the barrier between us—the word "repay"—then I was willing to do it.
My name is Nilou. I'm a very stupid girl. I never understand complex things. I always say the wrong thing.
But if someday, through this clumsy way, I can remove the distance between us and bring back what we once had—
Me, dancing on stage.
And him, watching from the crowd.
If we could return to that pure connection…
Would he be willing to have a love with me—sparkling and beautiful, like a prince and princess in a fairy tale?
…
[As if holding something most precious, you embrace the green memory, kneel before Nahida, and tears fall like a spring…]