It was nothing like the dream.
In the dream, everything was light—soft, glowing, golden. The air shimmered with possibility, and the world felt like it was holding its breath just for me. In the dream, he smiled at me, not just with his lips, but with his entire being, as if I were the only person that mattered.
But reality was different. Everything felt heavier. The skies were always overcast, even when the sun was shining. My chest carried an invisible weight I couldn't shake off. The hallways of school, once neutral and unremarkable, now seemed darker, colder. Every locker clang, every footstep echoed like a reminder that I was alone in a world that didn't know what I was feeling.
And yet, even in that darkness, I stood. I stood because I knew if I didn't act, I'd stay trapped in that silence forever. My fingers trembled as I held my phone. My heart beat so loud I was sure someone across the street could hear it. I opened his profile—his photo smiling, carefree, confident—and I hesitated.
What if he thinks I'm weird? What if he laughs with his friends about it?
But then again, what if he doesn't?
With a shaky breath, I pressed the button and sent him a friend request.
The moment after felt like falling. A kind of free-fall where time slowed down and my thoughts raced—regret, hope, panic, excitement—all tangled up in one messy heartbeat.
I tried to distract myself. Homework. Music. Cleaning my desk. Checking my phone every five seconds.
And then it happened.
A soft ding.
Notification: Friend request accepted.
I stared at the screen, blinking, not entirely sure I believed it. My heart flipped in a way that felt both terrifying and beautiful. He had accepted. He accepted.
I was so happy I laughed—quietly, nervously, as if the moment might break if I made too much noise. It was a small thing, just a click, really—but to me, it was the start of something.
Days passed, and something changed.
He liked one of my posts. A photo I almost didn't share. Just a simple picture of my sketchbook, nothing special. But he liked it. Not just a mindless scroll-like—he paused on it. Looked at it. Reacted to it. And for that brief moment, I felt seen.
At school, he started to glance at me. Not in the passing, accidental way people look at each other in crowded places. These were moments—intentional, quiet moments—when his gaze lingered. In the middle of class, during lunch, even in the hallway.
He didn't wave. He didn't talk to me. Not yet.
But his eyes did.
They met mine and held just long enough to say something without words. A silent acknowledgment. Like he knew I was there. Like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to notice me too—not just as another face in the classroom, but as someone real. Someone worth seeing.
And that was enough—for now. Because sometimes, the smallest beginnings carry the most meaning. And sometimes, even in a world that feels heavy and dark, a single look can light everything up again.
Let's see what will happen next .....