She's Josephine…
I stared at her in disbelief. After everything, after all the wondering and what-ifs—I had found her. Someone I once cared about deeply… and someone who, at least once, had cared for me too.
Without thinking, I rose slowly from my seat. My heart pounded as a thousand emotions crashed over me—relief, confusion, joy, and a sharp, aching uncertainty. She looked different now. There was something colder in her poise, something sharper in her eyes. Still beautiful, still familiar… but different.
Was she the same Josephine I remembered?
Just then, she turned. Our eyes met.
She squinted slightly, as if trying to place a distant memory, then tilted her head and smirked. "Well… well… this place just got interesting," she said, her voice smooth, tinged with quiet mischief.
The class stirred. Gasps filled the room like ripples across still water. Whispers buzzed behind cupped hands, as if they all feared what her presence might mean.
Miss Paulina's voice cut through the tension. "And what exactly do you mean by that, Josephine?"
Josephine didn't miss a beat. Her eyes flicked lazily back to the teacher. "I've just sighted the new intake," she said, with a half-smile that felt more like a warning than a welcome. "I'll make sure she feels… safe."
The room fell silent. Then, slowly, all eyes turned to me.
Miss Paulina quickly restored order, and class began. The teacher at the front—tall and soft-spoken—cleared his throat and smiled gently.
"Well," he said, "nothing heavy for today. I'd like each of you to write a short piece about yourself. Just a few lines. When you're done, drop it on my desk. That'll help us get started."
He sat down, giving us space to write.
Josephine sat three rows away. I could just see her from the corner of my eye. I tried to focus on the assignment, but my thoughts kept drifting. My gaze flicked toward her again and again.
She didn't look back often. But when she did, her eyes were unreadable—sharp, cool. Each time we locked eyes, she would scoff under her breath and glance away, as if I was the last person she wanted to acknowledge.
Was she angry?
Had she changed?
Did she still remember who I was… who we were?
I didn't know. But one thing was certain—Josephine wasn't just part of my past anymore. She was here. And whatever story was about to unfold… she was now a part of it.
As time passed, one by one, the students rose and dropped their papers on the teacher's desk. I quickly scribbled a few words onto mine—barely coherent thoughts clouded by the tension in my chest—and walked up to submit it too.
"Alright then, I—" the teacher began, but was cut off by the sharp ring of the bell.
"Oof," he chuckled lightly. "Well, we'll continue from where we stopped tomorrow."
Almost immediately, the class erupted into quiet movement. Students stood in small groups, chatting softly as they filtered out of the room. I stood too, heart pounding, eyes scanning for her. I was ready—desperate—to speak with Josephine. But before I could take a single step in her direction…
"Ah, and Cecilia," the teacher called, "please show Mia around the building. Help her feel at home."
A girl with short braids and round glasses turned toward me, offering a gentle smile and a polite nod.
I hesitated. My gaze darted to where Josephine had been sitting.
Empty.
She was already gone.
Just like that.
Again.