The note stayed folded in Joya's pocket all day, like a quiet secret pressed close to her heart. Every time she touched it, her pulse quickened. Sudom's words were simple, yet they echoed louder than anything he had ever said before.
She watched him more carefully now.
In class, he sat a little straighter when she spoke. When their eyes met, he didn't look away as quickly as before. It wasn't obvious enough for others to notice, but Joya felt it. Something had shifted, subtle as a change in the air before rain.
After school, they walked together toward the gate. The road felt familiar, yet different. Their conversation stayed light, ordinary things about homework and teachers, but beneath every word, something unspoken lingered.
Sudom slowed his steps. "You've been quiet today," he said gently.
Joya smiled, unsure of what to say. "Just thinking."
He nodded, as if he understood more than he let on. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. His lips parted, then closed again.
That silence felt heavier than words.
When they reached the corner where they usually parted ways, Sudom hesitated. "Joya," he said softly.
She looked up, her heart already racing.
But instead of finishing the thought, he only smiled. "See you tomorrow."
She watched him ride away, her emotions tangled between hope and uncertainty. He was closer now, closer than ever before. Yet the distance hadn't disappeared completely.
That night, Joya lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every glance, every pause, every almost-word.
Was he afraid to understand her feelings…
or was he slowly realizing his own?