I had known him since childhood, but we were strangers with familiar faces — classmates who never really noticed each other's existence. For years, we walked the same school halls, sat in the same classrooms, yet never exchanged a single word.
It wasn’t until class 9 that his name began to echo around me. The girls called him "monkey" — a teasing nickname that made no sense to me. I wasn’t interested. I kept to myself, focusing on my studies and my small world. But then, a rumor floated through the air like a breeze I couldn’t ignore: he was rude, they said. Weird.
Strangely, that caught my attention.
Curiosity bloomed where indifference had lived. I started to watch him quietly, realizing he was the boy I had seen all along. Now I knew his name. Ayu. I began to notice him more and more, silently observing. Without even realizing it, I started to take his side whenever people talked behind his back — . I didn't understand why I cared.
He began to occupy my thoughts. I even started dreaming about him.
I tried to focus on my studies, brushing it off as a silly distraction. But one day, a close friend told me, “You and Ayu would look great together.” I smiled… without even knowing why. That smile stayed with me longer than it should have.
Then came the end of class 10. Everyone was busy taking photos, celebrating the next chapter of life. But I felt a quiet sadness. I knew Ayu would be leaving this school. I searched for him that day, wanting to say goodbye… but he had already gone. My best friend held my hand and said, “Come on, honey. It’s our last day.” I let her pull me away, pretending to forget him.
But the universe wasn’t done with us.
In class 11, on a bored April Fool’s Day, my bestie and I started prank-calling old classmates. She handed me a number, the last one of the night. Tired, I texted, “Hello, I’m from hell. I’ve come to take you with me.”
The reply was instant: “Oh, I know who you are.”
He thought I was a close friend. I had no idea who he was. His profile picture was just a random anime character. He challenged me back, and soon we were arguing like two strangers who’d known each other for years. It was chaotic. It was hilarious.
That night, I realized he hadn’t blocked me. At midnight, I sent a soft, “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he replied.
The next day, curiosity took over. I messaged again, asking weird questions, trying to figure him out. Finally, I asked his name.
“I’m Madison,” he replied.
I laughed. “If you’re Madison, then I’m Victoria.”
The game went on, but I was determined to uncover the truth. I invited him to our school farewell. “You’re coming, right?” I asked.
“Obviously,” he replied.
I made a plan. I would call him when everyone was together. Whoever’s phone rang — that would be him.
But the moment came… and I forgot. Distracted by friends and the excitement of seeing old faces, I lost my chance.
The next day, I messaged him again. “Who are you really?”
His answer made my heart stop: “Dali.”
He knew my name.
“Who are you?!”
His reply: “Ayu.”
My heart skipped. It was him. The boy they called monkey. The boy I had watched from afar. The boy I accidentally pranked. I couldn’t believe it.
I double-checked with a friend — sent Ayu’s number and asked, “Whose number is this?”
“It’s Ayu’s.”
Embarrassed, I messaged him: “Let’s forget everything. Pretend like we never talked.”
“Alright,” he said.
And that was it. I tried to erase it. Tried to forget.
Two months later, a friend invited me to hang out with a group. I wore a simple black off-shoulder dress, nothing fancy. I wasn’t expecting anything. Then I saw him.
Ayu.
He acted normal. Like nothing ever happened.
We all laughed, ate, and enjoyed the evening. But people kept teasing us, trying to ship us. I played it off, nervous and flustered. When it was time to leave, my friend said, “Dali, it’s not safe to go home alone. Ayu, take her with you.”
I didn’t object.
At the bus stop, I only had a large note. Ayu paid for my fare before I could say anything. I blushed, too shy to thank him. We started walking, and I walked fast — maybe too fast.
“Wait,” he said.
I turned. “What?”
