The fan hummed lazily against the ceiling, turning in slow, uneven circles as if it, too, was tired from the day. The scent of chalk dust floated in the air, mixing with the faint perfume of freshly sharpened pencils. It was late afternoon, the hour when sunlight turned gold and poured through the narrow windows, painting long stripes across the wooden desks.

Irisa stood at the doorway for a moment, clutching her notebook to her chest. It wasn’t her first time entering a classroom, of course, but new places had a way of making her feel like every eye was on her. She scanned the room for an empty seat, her eyes flickering over strangers’ faces, the murmur of quiet conversations in the background.

She had joined this tuition for one reason — to study hard and improve her grades. This wasn’t the place for distractions, she had told herself the night before. No unnecessary talking, no wasting time. Just focus.

Her gaze landed on a seat near the middle row. Not too close to the front to be noticed by the teacher for every little question, and not so far back that she might miss something important. She slid into the chair quietly, placing her bag down with careful precision. Pens arranged by color, notebook open to a fresh page — small rituals to give her a sense of control.

A few moments later, the door opened again. Another new student stepped inside.

Ren walked in with an easy, unhurried pace, as though the classroom wasn’t new to him at all. He wore a white shirt, sleeves rolled casually at the elbows, and carried only a notebook and a single pen. His hair, a little messy, fell over his forehead, and he brushed it aside absently as he looked around for a seat.

His eyes swept across the room once — and paused. For no particular reason he could name, they lingered on the girl in the middle row. She was bent slightly over her notebook, flipping through the timetable printed at the back. Her brows drew together in concentration, and in that simple moment, he noticed the curve of her handwriting, the way her pen tapped lightly against the paper when she was thinking.

Ren didn’t overthink it. He took a seat toward the back, close enough to see her if he glanced up, far enough that he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. He didn’t speak to her. Not yet.

The teacher arrived shortly after, calling for silence. Conversations died down, and the classroom settled into the familiar rhythm of lessons — chalk tapping against the blackboard, the turning of pages, the occasional squeak of a chair leg against the floor.

Irisa listened carefully, writing in neat lines, her focus sharp. But once or twice, without meaning to, she caught sight of someone in the corner of her vision — the boy in the back. He wasn’t looking at her directly; sometimes he was writing, sometimes leaning back in his chair as if thinking. Yet, there was a quiet awareness there, something unspoken.

Neither of them spoke that day. No introductions, no small talk. But in the stillness between the teacher’s words, something subtle began to take root — the first quiet spark of curiosity.

When class ended, Irisa packed her things methodically, making sure every page was in place. She walked out without glancing back. Ren left a few seconds later, watching her disappear into the sunlight streaming through the open door.

They were just two new students in a tuition class.

Strangers sharing the same air.

But sometimes, stories begin exactly like that — without anyone realizing they’ve already begun.

To be continued......

Days slipped into one another like pages turning in a quiet book. Tuition was never meant to be exciting — an extra two hours after school, full of equations, grammar rules, and problem sets that stretched endlessly across notebooks. For Irisa, it was routine. She came in, took her seat, focused on the teacher, and left with hardly a pause in between.

And yet, without her realizing it, her presence had become a small orbit in someone else’s world.

Ren had noticed her from the first day, but now, as classes went on, his glances grew longer, more frequent. He watched the way her hair caught the light from the window, how she tilted her head slightly when she didn’t understand something, or how she pressed her lips together when she was determined to solve a problem. He never spoke to her, not directly. But he found himself memorizing little details, as if those quiet observations stitched her closer into his thoughts.

Irisa remained unaware. Her notebook filled with notes in neat, careful handwriting, margins decorated with the occasional absent-minded doodle. To her, tuition was still only about studies.

But others began to notice what Ren tried so hard to keep subtle.

One afternoon, during the short break between lessons, Irisa sat with two of her classmates, girls she’d gotten a little closer to over the past week. They chatted idly about homework and the teacher’s quirks, laughter soft under the steady whir of the ceiling fan.

Then, one of them leaned closer, her voice dropping mischievously.

“Do you know… someone here likes you.”

The words were simple, but they carried a weight that made Irisa’s pen pause mid-scribble.

She blinked, looking from one friend to the other. “What do you mean?”

The girls exchanged knowing smiles, clearly delighted with the secret they held.

“We can’t tell you who. Not yet. But trust me, he’s here. And he notices you more than you think.”

Irisa’s heart skipped, just once. The idea that someone — anyone — might be looking at her differently was both strange and… unexpectedly pleasant. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and quickly bent her head down, pretending to re-read her notes.

“Stop it,” she murmured, though the corners of her lips fought against a smile. “You’re just teasing me.”

But the girls only giggled and exchanged glances, leaving her with a flutter in her chest she couldn’t quite name.

That night, as she sat at her desk at home, revising the day’s lessons, the thought returned unbidden. Someone likes you. She shook her head, scolding herself. It didn’t matter. This tuition was for studies, nothing else. She had promised herself she wouldn’t be distracted.

And yet, when she closed her eyes, the classroom returned to her — the scent of chalk, the sound of pages turning, the quiet hum of the fan. And somewhere in that picture, though she tried not to admit it, was the boy who always sat a few rows back.

The next day, her eyes wandered without meaning to. Just once. Just to see. And there he was, looking at his notebook, tapping his pen lightly against the desk. When he looked up suddenly, her heart stumbled, and she quickly turned away, burying herself in her notes.

Ren, from his side, noticed the smallest change — how she shifted in her seat, how her friends giggled softly when he walked by. He didn’t know if she knew. He didn’t know if she even cared. But something told him that the distance between them was slowly, invisibly, beginning to shrink.

Neither spoke. Not yet. But the air between them felt different now, charged with an awareness that hadn’t been there before.

It was still only the beginning — two students sitting in the same classroom, their names not yet exchanged. But sometimes, beginnings don’t arrive with fireworks. They arrive quietly, like a whisper between friends, like a secret carried in laughter.

Irisa still told herself her focus was on studies. And Ren still told himself that silence was enough. But deep down, both of them had started to feel the same thing — that something was waiting, just ahead, to change everything.

To be continued.....

The last class before the summer break ended with the teacher’s voice echoing reminders about homework and upcoming tests. Chairs scraped against the floor, notebooks snapped shut, and students poured out of the tuition center with the easy laughter of freedom.

Irisa gathered her things carefully, slipping her pens into their case, stacking her notebooks one by one. Her friends chattered excitedly beside her about travel plans and family visits. She smiled faintly at their energy, though her own summer looked quieter — just her, her books, and the long afternoons ahead.

Behind her, Ren packed up more casually, slipping his notebook into his bag without much thought. As he stood, his eyes flickered toward the middle row where she sat. He wanted, just once, to say something before the long gap of the holidays stretched between them. But the words stuck somewhere in his throat. So instead, he simply watched her walk out of the room, the sunlight catching her hair for a moment before the door closed behind her.

And then she was gone.

---

Summer began.

For Irisa, the days fell into a rhythm of late mornings, quiet afternoons, and evenings spent at her desk. She revised lessons, wrote out neat notes, and read chapters that she thought she’d never have time for during tuition. She was content, mostly. But sometimes, when the house grew too quiet and the pages of her notebook seemed too blank, her mind drifted back to the classroom.

To the way her friends had giggled when they told her that someone liked her.

To the way she had felt that flutter in her chest, even though she had brushed it off.

And sometimes, unwillingly, her thoughts wandered further back — to the boy who sat a few rows behind.

Ren.

She hadn’t spoken to him, not once. But his presence had lingered with her, like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake off. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she was only curious because of what her friends had said. And yet, every time she sat down to study, she wondered — was he studying too? Was he thinking of her the way she was thinking of him?

---

For Ren, the summer felt longer than he expected. At first, he welcomed the break, imagining lazy mornings without alarm clocks and afternoons spent however he pleased. But after a few days, the absence grew noticeable.

He missed the steady rhythm of tuition — the scratch of chalk on the board, the quiet murmur of lessons. More than that, he missed the sight of her. The way she sat upright, listening carefully, her pen poised like she was ready to capture every word.

Sometimes, he caught himself staring at his phone, his hand itching to search her name, to find some way of reaching out. But he didn’t even know if she would want that. They had never spoken. He didn’t want to ruin whatever fragile thread was already there. So he stayed silent, carrying her image with him through the long summer afternoons.

---

Days turned into weeks. The heat deepened, the air heavy and still. And yet, both of them, in their separate worlds, found themselves thinking of each other more often than they admitted.

For Irisa, it was in the way she paused in the middle of a sentence, her pen hovering, her mind slipping away to a memory she shouldn’t be holding onto. For Ren, it was in the way he replayed her small expressions in his head, her quiet concentration, the smile she gave her friends when she thought no one was watching.

Neither of them spoke of it to anyone.

But the summer had left its mark — invisible, quiet, and undeniable.

---

When the holidays finally ended, Irisa packed her bag again for tuition, her heart beating faster than she expected. It wasn’t just about going back to studies. Somewhere inside her, she knew there was another reason her pulse quickened.

And when Ren walked back into the tuition room that first day after the break, his eyes searched almost immediately for her. He told himself it was only habit, but the truth was simpler than that. He had missed her — and now, seeing her again, he realized just how much.

What Irisa didn’t expect, though, was that the boy who had once looked at her so often would suddenly seem different. Distant. Almost as if the summer had erased something between them.

And that change — that quiet shift — was what left her heart unsettled as she sat down for the first class of the new term.

To be continued.....