The Day April Smiled at Me
Some days don't just happen — they stay, glowing softly in your memory.
(Siena's POV)
The morning sun spills through my window, painting the floor in golden stripes.
It's April 27 — my birthday.
I pull on my favorite pastel-blue top with tiny white flowers and my most comfortable jeans. My hair is tied up in a high ponytail, a few strands falling no matter how tightly I fix them. My fingers tremble just a little — nerves, maybe excitement — I can't tell which.
At the mirror, I whisper to myself, "You've got this, Siena."
By the time I reach school, Riya spots me first.
Birthday girl!" she shouts from down the hall.
I grin as she rushes to hug me, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs.
"You look so happy today," she says.
"It's my birthday," I laugh.
"Exactly. Birthdays always mean chaos," she teases.
I carry a small box of chocolates — the simple kind we all share in class. But my hands feel clumsy. My heart beats faster than it should.
When I enter the classroom, it's noisy and bright — voices, laughter, the clatter of chairs.
And then I notice him.
He's sitting at the last bench of the third row, near the window. Tall. Calm. A new face I've never seen before. The sunlight brushes against his hair, turning it gold at the edges. He's looking out the window, lost in thought.
Hey, Riya… who's that?" I whisper.
Riya leans closer.
"Oh, him? New student. Joined last week. Why?"
"No reason," I say quickly, but my voice wavers.
She grins.
"Sure. No reason."
I try to focus on giving chocolates to the first two rows. Smile. Hand them out. Move on. But somehow my steps drift further — closer to him.
"Siena! That's the last bench!"
Riya's whisper catches me off guard.
A soft laugh escapes from someone nearby. My cheeks burn. I turn quickly — and that's when he looks up.
Our eyes meet for the first time.He doesn't laugh. He just smiles — a small, quiet kind of smile that feels like the world slowing down for a heartbeat.
"Happy Birthday," he says gently.
I manage a smile back and hand him a chocolate, my hand slightly shaking.
Our fingers brush — only for a second — but it feels warm, like sunlight caught between two hands.
He offers his hand, and I shake it.
Simple. Ordinary. Yet my heart trips like it's running a race.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I hear teachers, laughter, the bell — but everything feels distant.
When the final class is about to begin, someone says,
"Last period's about to start — drink some water."
I open my bottle, pretending to sip, but my eyes find him again — sitting quietly at the back, sunlight wrapping around him.
And for some reason, everything suddenly feels new — the classroom, the light, even the air I'm breathing.
Maybe it's just the birthday feeling.
Or maybe… April really smiled at me today.