The morning after the secret meeting was gray.
Rain hung in the air, heavy and sticky, and the streets glistened wet as she walked to school.
Every step felt like walking through fog – not the one outside, but the one inside her.
She had barely slept.
Again and again she saw him before her: his face, half in shadow, the twitch of his hand just before he almost touched her.
And his words, burning like a wound in her heart:
"Better forget about me."
How was she supposed to do that?
How do you forget someone who taught you how to breathe – and then makes your heart stop?
She couldn't.
Even if she wanted to, she couldn't.
---
At school, everything was as usual – and yet completely different.
Vanessa talked too loudly, laughed too shrilly, showing off her phone again, but the words sounded as if from a great distance.
All she noticed was him.
Two rows ahead of her.
Head lowered, pen in hand – but she knew he wasn't writing anything.
