The classroom buzzed with low chatter, the occasional scraping of chairs, and the rhythmic clicking of pens. But Lucas sat in silence, his gaze unfocused as he stared out the window.
The lesson was already halfway through, but the words on the board meant nothing. His pen rested idle in his hand. His thoughts were elsewhere, far from equations and lectures.
Sandra.
It always came back to her.
He could still remember the first time he saw her. He was just fourteen, awkward, uncertain, trying to survive high school like everyone else. She was a senior. Confident. Graceful. Her laughter carried like music across the school courtyard.
But it wasn't just her beauty that captured him.
It was her serve.
She had been on the tennis court, her movements fluid and sharp, her right arm slicing through the air with perfect precision. He had never watched a match before that day, but something about the way she moved made his heart ache.
He fell for her instantly.
And in the days after, without thinking, he picked up a racket.
At first, it was just an excuse, a way to be closer to her. But soon, the court became his second home. She noticed his efforts. Started helping him train. Gave him pointers. Watched him play with a warm smile and a teasing nudge.
Lucas trained harder than anyone. He rose quickly, talent and obsession fueling every match.
Then came the accident.
It was a rainy weekend. She'd slipped on the stairs outside the library, and the fall fractured her right arm. At first, they thought it would heal fine. But complications followed, nerve issues. Her hand sometimes went numb. Sharp pain would spike out of nowhere when she tried to swing. The doctors said she could still live normally… just not play normally.
Sandra had laughed it off, at least in front of everyone. But Lucas saw it, the way she watched the court from the sidelines, the way her fingers flexed and curled when the pain returned. She had lost a piece of herself.
And he had made her a promise.
"I'll play for you," he told her once under the bleachers, when her eyes shimmered with tears she pretended weren't there. "I'll keep playing until I become someone worth watching."
She had smiled then, soft and sad. "You already are, Lucas."
They had grown close. Best friends, people said. Always seen together. But no matter how close he got, there was always a line she never let him cross.
Because her heart had already belonged to someone else.
Her boyfriend, Aiden, a quiet and charming boy who had once been the top tennis player in the college. He'd transferred to Japan a year ago to study sports science, but even now, Sandra still spoke about him with that same soft look in her eyes.
Lucas never stood a chance.
He knew it. And still, he couldn't stop trying.
---
A shadow passed his desk.
"Lucas?"
He blinked and turned.
Evan was standing beside him, holding something in his hands, a sandwich, wrapped in a paper towel, slightly squished but clearly made with care.
"You looked kind of… lost," Evan said, softly. "I, uh, made this for breakfast. Thought you might want it."
Lucas stared at the sandwich, then up at Evan.
"Why?" he asked, not coldly, just… confused.
Evan shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know. You looked like you didn't eat."
Lucas took the sandwich slowly, their fingers brushing for a second.
"…Thanks," he said, voice quieter than usual.
Evan smiled a little and sat back at his desk, pulling out his notebook.
Lucas looked down at the sandwich in his hands.
Simple. Kind. Unasked for.