The practice ground looked ordinary that afternoon.
Voices overlapped, instructions echoed, and students moved around without much thought. It was just another school practice session—nothing special, nothing memorable. At least, that's what it felt like until she arrived.
She walked in quietly, wearing a red hoodie that stood out against the dull colors around her. Sunglasses covered her eyes, and her hair looked slightly untidy, as if she hadn't tried too hard to fix it. In her hand was a microphone, held with calm confidence. Around her stood nearly thirty other girls, all talking, laughing, adjusting themselves.
Yet somehow, she didn't disappear into the crowd.
From a distance, Raz noticed her—not because she was loud, not because she was trying to attract attention, but because she was different. There was a certain spark in her eyes, something subtle but powerful. Even behind the sunglasses, it felt like her presence carried its own light.
Raz had seen many faces before. New students, seniors, juniors—faces came and went. But this one stayed.
He couldn't explain why.
She wasn't looking at anyone in particular. She wasn't smiling unnecessarily. She simply stood there, listening, holding the mic, focused. And that focus made her glow in a way that was impossible to ignore.
For a brief moment, Raz forgot about the practice, the noise, and even himself.
It felt like time slowed down—not dramatically, not magically—but just enough for that moment to settle deep inside him.
He realized something then:
Sometimes, attraction doesn't come with reasons.
It doesn't ask for permission.
It doesn't arrive with logic.
It arrives quietly…
like a girl in a red hoodie,
standing in a crowd,
yet somehow standing apart.
Raz didn't talk to her that day.
There was no conversation, no introduction, no exchanged smiles.
But when the practice ended and everyone walked away, one thing stayed behind—
A memory.
And sometimes, a single memory is enough to start a story.