The humid air of a new state pressed in on Han the moment he stepped off the bus, a stark contrast to the familiar chill of his hometown. He was here, alone, in a bustling city far from everything he knew, to start college. Everything truly felt 'new' – the vibrant colours, the cacophony of languages, even the way the trees swayed in the unfamiliar breeze.
His first day in class was a whirlwind of introductions he barely caught, and faces he couldn't quite meet. He tried to focus, but the occasional chattering and rustling above the ceiling tiles were a constant distraction. Then, a bold, furry head peeked in through the open window, followed by another, and another. Monkeys. Real, live monkeys, casually observing the lecture from the windowsill, some even scampering across the open beams of the classroom. It was surreal, but Han, an introvert through and through, merely offered a weak, nervous smile when a classmate chuckled beside him. The whole day, he felt like a ghost, unable to initiate conversation, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth whenever an opportunity arose. He just nodded, mumbled, and hoped no one noticed how truly out of place he felt.
The second day dawned with a fresh wave of anxiety, but a flicker of hope too. He walked into the same classroom, the monkey audience already present, draped over pipes and sills like furry, judgmental statues. Han found his usual seat towards the back. As he settled down, his gaze drifted across the room, past the usual clusters of students, and then it stopped.
There she was.
She had short, practical hair that framed a bright, earnest face, her eyes alight with an easy curiosity. She was laughing at something a friend beside her had said, a genuine, unforced sound that seemed to cut through the hum of the classroom. Han felt a peculiar jolt, like a skipped heartbeat, then a rush of heat to his cheeks. It wasn't just attraction; it was an undeniable, overwhelming sense of rightness. It was love at first sight, cliche though it felt. He quickly looked away, his heart thrumming against his ribs, suddenly hyper-aware of his own awkward presence.
The morning classes dragged on, Han stealing glances at her whenever he dared. After the final bell rang, signifying the end of the morning session, their art teacher announced a classwork assignment: "For today, I want you all to partner up and draw each other. Focus on capturing their essence, not just their features."
A wave of panic washed over Han. This was it. His chance, perhaps, to talk to her. But how? What would he say? He watched as others quickly paired off, the small-talk and laughter filling the room. He mentally rehearsed opening lines, each one sounding more ridiculous than the last. His gaze flickered to her again. She was looking around, a slight frown of thought on her face, as if searching for a partner. Han’s palms grew sweaty. Now or never, he thought, but the words wouldn't form.
Just as he was about to retreat into himself, a clear, sweet voice cut through the noise, making him jump.
"Han, right?"
He froze. She was looking directly at him, a slight, tentative smile on her lips. His brain scrambled for a coherent response.
"Ah… ahh, yes!" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "How can I… how can I help you, miss?"
A small, amused crinkle appeared at the corner of her eyes. "Oh, you don't have to call me 'miss'. I'm Liya." She paused, then gestured vaguely at the room. "For the classwork, everyone else seems to have paired up. Can we… can we draw each other?"
Han's face, already flushed, went a shade deeper. His mind screamed YES! but his mouth struggled to catch up. "Yes! Yes, sure, of course!" he blurted out, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He felt the blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
Liya's smile widened. "Great! Okay then, let's start."
They rearranged their desks, facing each other. The air between them, once thick with Han's shyness, now crackled with a different kind of energy. Han picked up his charcoal, his hand trembling slightly. He looked at her, really looked at her, memorizing the curve of her short hair, the intelligent spark in her eyes, the gentle line of her jaw. He poured every one of his newfound feelings into the drawing, trying to capture not just her form, but the warmth and kindness he’d glimpsed.
Time seemed to melt away. The sounds of the monkeys outside, the chatter of other students – it all faded into the background. It was just Han, Liya, and the silent, intense act of creation.
Finally, the teacher called for them to show their work. Han’s heart hammered as Liya took his sketchpad. Her eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips.
"Wow," she breathed, her gaze fixed on the meticulous, loving portrait of herself. "Han, this is… this is amazing! You drew me so nicely!" There was genuine surprise and delight in her voice.
Han mumbled something inaudible, his blush flaring up again, but a proud warmth spread through his chest.
Liya looked up, her bright eyes meeting his. "We should be friends, Han. Seriously. Tell me, what's your email? And your contact number?"
He gaped for a second, then fumbled for his phone, his fingers shaky but quick. He rattled off his email address and then his phone number, mentally replaying the words, “We should be friends.”
"Got it!" she said, a triumphant smile on her face. "See you around, Han!"
"Yeah… you too, Liya," he managed, as they gathered their things and headed for the door, going their separate ways.
Han walked out of the classroom, out of the building, and didn't stop until he was back in the quiet sanctuary of his dorm room. He collapsed onto his bed, a dazed, blissful smile spreading across his face. The image of her looking at his drawing, her surprised happiness, replayed in his mind. He was still blushing, a deep, persistent flush that reached all the way to his toes. The new state, the unfamiliar college, even the monkeys – none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was Liya. He was falling for her, all over again, and this time, he knew her name.
