Journal Entry – October 12
"I try to smile, try to fit in, but it's like my smile is too small, like it doesn't matter in a world that speaks so loudly. I'm tired of pretending. Tired of being the girl they look at, but don't really see. Maybe one day I'll find a voice that's louder than all the noise."
Vanessa snapped the journal closed, a determined look crossing her face. The professor's voice faded as the words on the page became more real to her than anything around her. She was tired. Tired of the emptiness. Tired of the silence in her heart.
But the world was still spinning. The lessons, the campus, the friends, all moving forward like they always did. And Vanessa?
She would have to find a way to make her presence known. She would have to find a way to be heard.
Chapter 2: NOTICED
It started with the rain.
The kind that crept up on you without warning—soft at first, then sudden and heavy, drenching the world in minutes. Vanessa had barely stepped out of her last lecture when the clouds gave way. She let out a small groan, clutching her notebook to her chest as students scrambled for shelter. She hadn't brought an umbrella, of course. She never did. The weather app always lied anyway.
She dashed across the walkway, her slippers slapping against the wet concrete. Her heart pounded—not just from the cold or the sudden downpour, but from the all-too-familiar anxiety that came from being seen. Her soaked blouse clung to her skin, outlining more than she was comfortable with, and she hated the way people's eyes lingered. Hated how exposed she felt.
She found cover beneath the cafeteria's extended roof, her breath coming in soft gasps. She wasn't alone. A few students had gathered there, mostly guys from other departments, laughing over suya and drinks like the sky wasn't falling outside.
And then—him.
He wasn't laughing like the others. He was standing a few steps apart, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching the rain like it held the answers to a question he hadn't asked yet. Tall, maybe 6'1, with a lean, athletic build that suggested early morning jogs or football practice. His skin was the color of roasted chestnuts—deep, warm, striking. His hair was cropped low, and his jaw was defined, sharp enough to carve silence from noise.
But it was his eyes that caught her first. Dark, thoughtful, piercing—but not in a way that made her shrink. They had this quiet pull, like he wasn't just looking at her, but into her.
Their eyes met.
And unlike every other time, she didn't look away first.
He did. But only to smile. A slow, genuine, slightly crooked smile that made her stomach dip in a way that felt dangerous and new.
"Looks like the rain had other plans for you too," he said, his voice low, slightly raspy.
Vanessa's lips twitched. "Yeah. Weather forecast said clear skies." She looked down at her soaked blouse and let out a half-laugh. "I should sue them."
He chuckled—a sound that curled at the edges of her heart. "You should. That's false hope, emotional damage, and assault—all in one."
She laughed more freely now. Something about him peeled away her guarded layers.
"I'm Joel," he said, shifting to stand beside her under the roof.
"Vanessa," she replied, the name suddenly feeling lighter on her tongue.
"Microbiology, right? 100 level?"
She blinked. "Yeah… how did you—?"
"I've seen you around. You're always writing in that brown journal."
Her heart skipped. He'd noticed that?
"You noticed?" she asked softly, disbelief lacing her voice.
He nodded, smile softening. "Yeah. You sit under that tree near Faculty Block. You always look like you're writing the next bestseller."
Vanessa laughed, heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'm not. I just… like writing."
"I think it's cool." He looked at her again, this time longer. "Not many people sit with themselves the way you do. It's rare."
No one had ever said anything like that to her before. Most people thought her quietness meant she was antisocial, shy, or too deep for her own good. But Joel… he didn't just see her stillness—he respected it.
They stood together in silence for a few moments, watching the rain blur the world outside the cafeteria. Vanessa could hear her heart beating louder than the storm. She snuck a glance at him again—his profile was even more beautiful up close. Strong nose, full lashes, the way his fingers tapped thoughtfully against his arms. He smelled faintly of mint and rain—fresh and comforting.
"You're a writer," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.
She blinked. "How do you know?"
"Writers are observers," he replied, tilting his head toward her. "And you… you notice everything. Even when you're not trying to."
Vanessa didn't know what to say. No boy had ever looked at her like that before—like she was interesting, not just attractive. Like he was trying to read her, not undress her.
"You're in Biochemistry?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Yeah. 400 level. I'm the class rep, actually."
Vanessa raised her brows, impressed. "That explains the confidence."
He grinned. "That, and the fact that I like talking to smart, beautiful girls stranded in the rain."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "Smooth."
"Guilty," he said with a chuckle. "But it's true."
The rain began to slow, turning to a light drizzle. But neither of them moved. The air between them had shifted, warm and electric.
"You want to grab a drink or something?" he asked, looking toward the cafeteria doors. "It's still wet out, and I'm not ready to run into the storm again. Plus, you owe me a story—something from that famous journal."
Vanessa hesitated—but only for a second. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel the need to hide. Something about Joel made her feel safe. Like he wouldn't judge the broken parts or the quiet ones.
"Okay," she said with a soft smile. "But I'm warning you, my journal entries are more sad girl poetry than bestsellers."
"I'll take it," he replied, pushing the door open for her. "I like poetry."
Inside, the cafeteria buzzed with chatter and the clinking of trays. Joel found them a table near the window. He bought her a bottle of water and jollof rice—said she looked like someone who hadn't eaten all day. He was right.
They talked. About books, music, what it meant to be invisible in a world that praised loudness. Joel listened—not the kind of nod-and-smile listening most guys did. He really listened. Asked questions. Waited for answers. He laughed at her jokes, remembered details, and even shared a few of his own fears—how exhausting it was to always have to "hold it together" because he was a leader. How people expected him to be composed, even when he was falling apart.
"I feel like I can breathe around you," he admitted quietly.
Vanessa smiled. "Me too."
They talked until the cafeteria emptied. Until the clouds cleared. Until the silence between them felt more intimate than any words could offer.
And as he walked her back to her hostel, their fingers brushed. She didn't pull away.
He didn't either.