When something small suddenly means everything
The exam bell rang, and a wave of relief washed over me. I put down my pen, exhaled deeply, and leaned back in my chair. The past hour had been a whirlwind of stress, scribbling answers, and second-guessing myself. As the invigilator gave the all-clear, I gathered my things in a flurry—books, notes, calculator—and shoved them into my bag.
I just wanted to get out of there.
In my rush, I didn't even notice the pencil that rolled off my desk and onto the floor.
I walked out of the classroom, the hallway buzzing with students either celebrating or groaning about the exam. My mind was still wrapped around a question I wasn't sure I got right when I suddenly felt something—gentle but firm—wrap around my wrist.
I turned around.
He was there.
He held my hand. Not by accident. Not in a clumsy bump-into-you kind of way. He actually held it—warm, steady, and so natural that for a split second, the whole hallway faded away.
My heart stopped. Or maybe it sped up—I couldn't even tell anymore. Everything felt like a blur, except for the way his hand felt around mine. My feet were still on the ground, but my thoughts were floating somewhere above my head. It was like I was drowning in the sky—lost in a moment too sweet, too confusing to fully grasp.
Then he smiled—softly, almost like he didn't want to startle me—and said,
"Hey... you forgot your pencil."
That's when I noticed it—my old, worn-out pencil with bite marks on the end, resting in his free hand. I laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed at how flustered I felt. I reached out to take it from him, and as our fingers brushed again, a strange shiver ran up my arm.
"Thanks," I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
"You're welcome," he replied with a little shrug and walked back into the classroom, leaving me standing there with my heart in my throat and my pencil in my hand.
I turned to find my friends waiting at the end of the hallway. And of course—they saw everything. The second I reached them, they exploded into giggles and teasing.
"Oooooh, was that him?" "He totally likes you!" "That wasn't just about a pencil, girl!"
I tried to play it off, brushing them away with a laugh, but my cheeks were burning. I couldn't stop replaying the moment in my head—the way he looked at me, the warmth in his hand, the little grin on his face. It was just a pencil… right?
Or was it something else?
Was he always that kind? That sweet? Or was there something more behind that small gesture?
I couldn't tell. And honestly, I didn't really want to answer the question right away.
All I knew was, for the rest of the day, I couldn't stop smiling.
And maybe—just maybe—that moment was the start of something more.