🌒 EPISODE 1 — PART 1
"When I First Saw Her"
---
[Present – Night]
I've heard people say time heals all wounds…
But here I am, years later, lying awake under the same cracked ceiling, and the ache hasn't even faded — it has only learned how to stay quiet.
It's past midnight again. Avery Heights is asleep, but I'm not. I never am.
There's a streetlamp outside my window, flickering against the rain, casting shadows that remind me of the way she used to sit — silent, distant, unreachable.
Shandy Hart.
I don't say her name out loud anymore. It hurts differently when it echoes in a room with no one else in it.
But every time I close my eyes, I see her — not the way the world saw her, but the way I first did… that morning, when I was a boy who didn't yet know what heartbreak could become.
It's strange, isn't it? The cruel truth that the brightest memories are the ones that leave the deepest scars.
People think heartbreak begins with a goodbye.
They're wrong.
Mine began with a 'hello'.
---
[Flashback – The First Day]
I remember everything about that morning.
Mum called it a new beginning. I didn't understand why beginnings had to come with ironed uniforms and stiff shoes that hurt your ankles.
She stood in front of the mirror, fixing the collar of my blazer, smiling like she believed the world was kinder than it truly is.
"First impressions matter, Zubem," she said.
"Be polite. Be brave. And don't forget to smile."
I nodded, but I wasn't listening. I was busy studying my own reflection — a skinny boy with nervous eyes, wondering if school would be a battlefield or a promise.
I had never been to Avery Heights Primary before. I had only heard of it — the tall iron gates, the polished hallways, the children who walked like they already knew who they would become.
I didn't know it then, but I wasn't going there to learn.
I was going there to meet fate.
We left early. The sky was still misty, painted in silver and grey, as if the sun hadn't made up its mind yet. I remember clutching my backpack straps so tight my knuckles went pale.
Inside the car, I practiced things I would never say:
"Hello, my name is Zubem."
"Do you want to be friends?"
"Can I sit here?"
But I never said them. I never needed to. Because on that day, I didn't choose a friend.
I found a destiny disguised as a girl with quiet eyes.
---
When we arrived, the world exploded in noise — children laughing, crying, shouting. Overwhelming. I wanted to turn back. To disappear.
But then I saw her.
At first, she was just a silhouette by the field. Alone. Not laughing. Not speaking. Just watching the rain trace lines on the glass.
She had long hair tied loosely, like she hadn't tried to impress anyone. A sketchbook lay open on her laps. She didn't look like she belonged there — she looked like she was passing through time, untouched by it.
Shandy Hart.
I didn't know her name then.
All I knew was this:
She was the only person in that room who wasn't trying to be seen — and somehow, she was the only one I couldn't stop seeing.
My heartbeat did something strange. It didn't race. It paused — as if my entire body took a silent step toward her without moving at all.
I was too young to call it love.
But I was old enough to recognize significance.
---
That was the first moment.
The first thread in the fate I would spend my whole life tangled in.
---
---
[Flashback – Entering the Classroom]
"Go on, introduce yourself," my mother whispered, nudging me forward.
I didn't want to. Every instinct in me pulled backward. The room was a storm of strangers — kids racing between desks, groups forming like clouds, voices crashing into each other. Chaos.
But her…
She was stillness.
The teacher hadn't arrived yet. Children were already marking territories — bags on chairs, names scratched on wooden desks with metal rulers, laughter too loud for a Monday morning.
I stood at the doorway, invisible. Or so I thought.
"Hey, you lost?" someone laughed behind me.
I turned. A boy with red shoelaces and a crooked tie grinned at me. He didn't wait for an answer. He ran off, chasing his own noise.
I scanned the room again.
Most faces were easy to read — excitement, nerves, pride, mischief. But hers… hers was unreadable. Calm. Distant. She rested her chin on her palm, eyes half-lidded, watching raindrops race each other down the glass.
While everyone else raced forward to belong, she stayed still — as if belonging meant nothing to her.
And that's when it happened.
She looked up.
Not at me. Not directly. But in my direction.
And for a heartbeat I will never get back… I felt seen. Not loudly. Not brightly. Quietly — like a page recognizing its ink.
I froze. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. A slow, subtle confusion washed over me. Why her? Why instantly? I didn't know. I only knew something had shifted, and nothing would be the same after this.
---
[The First Word I Never Said]
I wanted to walk over. To say "Hi, I'm Zubem."
But my feet betrayed me. I turned instead, finding the furthest desk, pretending to search for a seat.
I didn't know yet that the universe doesn't wait for courage. It moves with or without you.
As I sat, I kept glancing her way — stealing looks between noisy conversations. She never joined the noise. Never smiled. Her finger traced patterns on the damp window, like she was drawing memories only she could see.
I thought she was sad.
But now, years later, as I lie in this dark room, I know better. She wasn't sad.
She was simply alone in a way no one understood — a kind of distance I would spend my life trying to cross.
---
[The Teacher Arrives]
The classroom hushed.
"Good morning, students," a tall woman said, stepping in. "I am Ms. Raine. Welcome to your first day of Primary Six."
We all stood.
"Find your seats. We'll begin with introductions."
Panic.
Each student went forward, saying their name, their hobbies, their favorite food. Applause, laughter, easy beginnings.
My turn was near.
My palms were sweating. I didn't want to speak. Not in front of her. Not in front of eyes that didn't care.
"Next. You in the navy blazer."
I stood.
"My name is… Zubem. Zubem Cole."
My voice cracked on the first syllable. A couple of kids snickered.
I swallowed.
"I like… drawing. And football."
I didn't. I lied. I didn't like football. I liked silence. I liked sitting alone at windows, watching rain.
I liked her.
"Thank you, Zubem," Ms. Raine nodded.
As I walked back, my eyes betrayed me — they drifted to her again.
She wasn't laughing. She wasn't even looking at me.
She was sketching in her book.
And in that moment, I made the first mistake of my life:
I wondered what — or who — she was drawing.
---
🌑 [Present – Night]
It's strange, lying here in the dark, remembering a day so bright.
People say we only remember the pain.
But I remember the beginning — the softness before the storm.
They don't know how dangerous innocence is.
They don't know that the first time I saw her… was the last time I ever saw the world without her in it.
---
---
That night felt longer than time itself. I laid on my back, eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling, tracing invisible lines with my thoughts. Sleep teased me but never arrived. My mind kept wandering—What if no one talks to me? What if I stutter? What if I trip and everyone laughs? I could already picture it—faces I'd never met, judging silently.
I wasn't scared of school. I was scared of the unknown.
Mum had told me, "Be yourself, Zuby." But what if myself wasn't good enough? I had always been the quiet kid—the observer, the boy who noticed everything but said nothing. I wondered if tomorrow I'd finally have a voice… or just remain the shadow in every room.
I rolled over to my side. The moonlight leaked through the thin curtains, colouring my room in silver. My school bag sat by the wardrobe, neatly packed hours ago. I'd checked it five times already—pencils, notebooks, ruler, lunch box. Everything was in order. Everything but me.
I sighed and closed my eyes, rehearsing imaginary conversations with strangers. I pictured myself laughing confidently, shaking hands, introducing myself with ease. But the real me? I could barely start a sentence without thinking ten times first.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
That thought became my lullaby.
---
Morning.
I woke up before the alarm. Before the sun, even. The sky outside was still tinted in dark blue, the world quiet, holding its breath. Today was the day. The first official day of a new chapter.
I sat up, heart thudding as if I was about to face a crowd. I slipped my feet into my slippers and walked to the tiny bathroom. The tiles were cold, and the mirror, slightly cracked at one corner, reflected a face I wasn't sure I recognised—my face, but restless, uncertain.
I splashed cold water on my skin. It shocked me awake, dragging me back from my spiralling thoughts.
You can do this, I told myself silently. You're not invisible. Not today.
I got dressed slowly, carefully, as if every fold of my uniform mattered. Grey trousers, crisp white shirt, blue tie. The fabric felt strange, stiff against my skin—brand new, almost like a costume I wasn't sure I was allowed to wear.
Mum peeked through the door.
"You're up early," she smiled, holding a plate. "Eat something."
I followed her to the small kitchen. The smell of fried eggs and bread greeted me. My stomach twisted—nerves, not hunger. She set the plate down and touched my shoulder gently.
"You'll be fine, Zuby."
Dad didn't say much. He was reading the newspaper, glasses sliding slightly down his nose. But when I picked up my bag, he looked at me and nodded—firm, trusting. That was his way of saying, I believe in you.
I stepped outside.
The air was fresh, the streets barely waking. The sky had begun to blush with sunrise. Each step toward that school felt heavier, like the earth itself was testing me.
I didn't know it then—didn't know that beyond those school gates, fate was waiting.
Didn't know she would be there.
The girl who would burn herself into my story…
The girl I would one day love so deeply it shattered me.
---
Alright… we continue. Still Episode 1 – Part 1, building toward that first encounter at school, where he sees her for the first time—not speaking yet, just a silent collision of souls he doesn't even understand.
---
First Day at School — The Moment That Changes Everything (Unknowingly)
---
The school gates towered ahead of me like the entrance to another world. Children in uniforms poured in, some laughing loudly, some chasing each other, some clinging to their parents' hands. I walked alone—hands in pockets, trying to look calm, even though my heartbeat was louder than my footsteps.
The security man at the gate barely glanced at me. That was fine. I was used to being unnoticed.
I followed the path toward the assembly ground, the sound of chattering voices swelling around me. I kept my gaze low, not ready to meet eyes or smiles. I didn't know anyone. I didn't want to look lost.
Then, it happened.
I didn't know I had lifted my head. I didn't know I was searching… for something.
But my eyes found her.
She stood across the courtyard, surrounded by friends yet somehow apart from them. Her laughter wasn't loud—it was soft, like she was careful with joy. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that danced in the breeze. She wasn't the most glamorous, not the type people gasp over… but there was something about her.
Something that pulled the world toward her without her trying.
I froze.
For a second, the noise around me dimmed, like life itself held its breath.
I didn't know her name. I didn't know her story. But in that single moment, I knew one thing with absolute, terrifying clarity:
I wanted to know her.
I wanted to know the sound of her thoughts.
I wanted to know why her eyes looked like they had lived twice.
I wanted to know what she hid inside that calm smile.
But I didn't move.
I just stood there—an observer to my own fate.
She didn't see me.
Of course she didn't.
Why would she?
To her, I was just another face in a sea of uniforms.
But to me… she was already different.
Already unforgettable.
I blinked, and the world resumed. A bell rang in the distance, calling us to assembly. Students shuffled into lines. My legs moved on their own, but my mind stayed with her.
I didn't know it yet, but that was the beginning.
The beginning of everything beautiful.
And everything that would one day break me.
---
The assembly ground smelled of dust, chalk, and morning sweat. Students stood in straight lines — boys on the left, girls on the right. I slipped into the line for new intakes, the "unknowns," the ones without history.
The principal stood on the platform, giving one of those welcome speeches nobody listens to. Around me, whispers floated—gossip, excitement, boredom. My eyes wandered again… searching.
And there she was.
A few lines to my right, standing perfectly still. Not fidgeting, not whispering, not restless like the others. Calm. Almost too calm for someone our age.
But it wasn't just her stillness.
It was her eyes.
She looked straight ahead, but her gaze wasn't here. It was somewhere else—far, far away, like she carried another world inside her. A world I suddenly wanted to enter.
And then—she laughed. Not loudly. Someone beside her must have whispered something, and she covered her mouth as she smiled.
I didn't hear the joke.
But I heard her.
Not with my ears.
With something deeper.
A prefect shouted, "Quiet!" and the courtyard fell silent. The national anthem began. Voices rose.
I didn't sing.
My lips moved, but no sound came out.
Because I was afraid.
Afraid of forgetting that voice.
Afraid that if I blinked too long, I'd lose sight of her in the crowd.
"Excuse me—shift," a boy beside me muttered, elbowing my arm.
I jerked slightly and looked away.
Because that's who I was.
The boy who moved aside.
The boy who didn't speak.
The boy who noticed everything…
and was noticed by no one.
When the anthem ended, the principal dismissed the juniors. The seniors stayed back for prefect announcements. My class was called — "Year Seven, follow Miss Daniels!"
I turned to follow the line.
But I looked back one last time.
She was gone.
Like she had only been there for a moment.
Like she was never real.
Like she was a dream I accidentally woke up from.
But I knew.
Oh God, I knew.
She was real.
And some part of me already belonged to her.
The Seat Beside Me Was Empty
---
They led us to our classroom—Year Seven, Room B—a sunlit space that smelled of new books and freshly wiped desks. I walked in quietly, the way I always do, and chose a seat by the window. Second row, far left.
I liked windows.
Windows don't talk, they don't judge. They just let you look out.
Students filled in slowly, laughing, dragging chairs, greeting old friends from primary school. I watched their reunions like someone watching a movie they weren't part of.
But my eyes weren't really searching for them.
They were searching for her.
Every time someone entered, my chest tightened—maybe this time…
A girl walked in. Not her.
Two boys, arguing over football.
Another group, loud, familiar, careless.
Not her.
Not her.
Not… her.
My seat stayed empty on the right. And I don't know why, but that emptiness felt louder than the noise around me.
"Hey bro, anyone sitting here?"
I blinked. A boy stood beside me, pointing at the empty desk. Skinny. Dark-skinned. Round glasses. He looked like the kind who always knew answers in class.
I shook my head. "No."
He sat. Nodded. "I'm Davis."
I nodded back. "Zubem."
He smiled. Friendly. Normal. The kind of person people talk to. The kind of person I wasn't.
The teacher walked in. Young. Serious. She wrote on the board:
ENGLISH LANGUAGE – MRS. KESTER
She turned to us. "I don't care if it's your first day. In my class, there are only two options—learn, or leave."
Laughter. Nervous, scattered.
I didn't laugh. I was still looking at the door.
Why isn't she here?
Was she in a different class? Different year? Was she even real?
I dropped my gaze to my table, tracing invisible lines on the wood. My chest felt tight, stupidly tight, like someone had placed a stone there.
I didn't know her.
I didn't know her name.
I didn't even know if I'd ever see her again.
But I knew this—
Something had already started in me.
Something I didn't understand.
Something I couldn't stop.
If she exists… I'll find her."
---
I barely heard Mrs. Kester's voice as she listed textbooks and school rules. Her words floated above me like air traffic—loud, present, but distant.
I wasn't really in that classroom.
I was still at the gate.
Still replaying the girl in the white shirt, the ribbon, the eyes I couldn't forget.
"Zubem."
My head snapped up.
Mrs. Kester was looking straight at me. "Can you read the school creed on page three?"
My heart thumped. I hadn't even opened the textbook.
Before I could speak, Davis slid his book toward me. Already opened. Already placed perfectly between us.
I read. Voice calm, eyes steady. No one knew my hands were trembling under the desk. No one ever knows. That's my talent—I break without sound.
A few students murmured after I finished.
"He reads like a writer."
"Calm voice."
"Cool guy."
I wasn't cool.
I was lost.
As the class moved on, I glanced at the door one last time.
She didn't come.
---
Lunchtime
The cafeteria was chaos—noise, laughter, metal trays clashing. I sat at the edge, by the wall. It was easier to breathe there.
Davis joined me. "You're quiet."
"I think a lot," I replied.
"About what?"
I almost said her.
I almost asked, Have you ever seen someone only once, and felt like you've known them forever?
But I stayed silent.
"Is this your first time in a big school?" Davis asked.
I nodded.
He smiled. "You'll get used to it."
I didn't answer.
Because what I felt wasn't nerves.
It was longing.
A name I didn't know,
a face I remembered too clearly,
a heartbeat I couldn't unhear.
---
The Whisper
On my way back to class, I overheard two girls talking near the staircase.
"She didn't come today again."
"Maybe she moved to another school."
"After everything that happened? I don't blame her."
I stopped walking.
Not on purpose. My feet just froze. Something in me said—
Listen.
"Do you think she'll ever return?" one asked.
The other sighed. "I don't know. But if she does… everyone will know."
They walked away, unaware I'd caught their fragments.
Her.
Was it her?
Were they talking about my girl in white?
---
That night, at home, I didn't touch my dinner. I stared at the ceiling, headphones on, music low.
And I whispered to no one:
> If she exists… I'll find her.
Not to speak. Not to claim.
Just to know she's real.
The Girl Who Wasn't Supposed to Return
---
The next morning, the sky was heavy with clouds, grey and swollen like it was holding back tears. I didn't take the bus. I walked. Slow. Hands in pockets. Thoughts ahead of me, like ghosts.
When I reached the school gates…
I didn't look for her.
At least, I told myself I wouldn't.
I lied.
---
In Class
"Bring out your notebooks," Mrs. Kester said. "We're doing introductions today."
Great. Names. Origins. Fake confidence. I hated it already.
One by one, they stood.
"I'm Tobi, I like football."
"I'm Vanessa, I love fashion."
"I'm Davis…" he glanced at me, "…and I make friends with introverts who act tough."
The class laughed. I smirked.
"My turn," I said quietly when it reached me.
"I'm Zubem. I think more than I speak."
Silence. Genuine silence. Not mockery. Not laughter. Just… understanding.
I sat.
Mrs. Kester nodded, impressed. "Thank you, Zubem."
Then it happened.
The door opened.
No knock. No excuse. Just the soft sound of hinges and a breeze.
Every head turned.
Mine was last.
It was her.
Same ribbon. Same eyes. Same impossibly calm presence.
But this time… she was real. Breathing. In my world, not my imagination.
She stood at the doorway, holding a transfer slip. The room felt too small to hold her.
Mrs. Kester blinked. Shocked.
"You… you came back."
Came back?
So it was her. The girl they thought had gone. The girl with a story. A storm behind her eyes.
"What's your name?" the teacher asked softly.
She hesitated. Just one heartbeat.
"Shandy."
Shandy.
The name settled in my chest like a bruise I didn't yet understand.
She scanned the class. Quick, polite. But for a second—
Just one second—
Her eyes met mine.
No smile.
No recognition.
Just a flicker.
A flicker that said:
I see you.
And that was it.
She walked past me. Sat two rows away. Opened her notebook.
But something had already begun.
Not love.
Not yet.
Something deeper.
A promise.
----
> "Some people walk into your life quietly.
But leave an echo that never stops."