Chapter 3- The Red Hairclip

Luna sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her camera roll, swiping past silly selfies, notes, and pictures of the sky.

Her finger hovered over a photo she had taken last spring—cherry blossoms falling across the school’s old courtyard.

It always made her chest ache a little, though she didn’t know why.

She brushed it off and dropped the phone beside her.

Just then, Rhea’s text popped up.

Rhea: Did Zane murder you during practice orrrr did you two fall in love already? 😏

Luna rolled her eyes and replied:

Luna: Shut up. He didn’t even talk. Like literally mute. Who does that?

Rhea: People who are secretly falling for you 👀

Luna: I’d rather marry a rock.

---

Meanwhile, Zane stood on his balcony, headphones on, strumming his old acoustic guitar absentmindedly.

His fingers moved smoothly, but his thoughts were tangled.

He shouldn’t care.

He shouldn't be curious about whether Luna still liked strawberry milk or if she still smiled with her eyes before she laughed.

But he was. And it was driving him insane.

Because she didn’t recognize him.

And he didn’t have the courage to tell her.

Not after what happened.

---

The next day, the school buzzed with excitement—it was "Flashback Friday."

A themed day where students brought items or pictures from their childhood to pin up on a classroom memory wall.

“Ugh, cringe,” Luna muttered, tossing random old photos into her bag as she walked to school.

One fell to the floor.

She picked it up and blinked.

A blurry picture—two small kids on a swing set.

One had long pigtails. The other… jet-black hair.

She didn’t remember who took it.

But something about the boy’s smile tugged at her.

---

In class, students rushed to stick up their memory items.

Zane didn’t participate. Obviously.

He walked in late as usual, hands in pockets, and eyes flicking toward the chaos. He planned to sit down and ignore it all.

Until he saw that photo.

Pinned right in the center of the memory wall.

The swing. The cherry blossoms.

And her.

It was her.

Luna.

His Luna.

He hadn’t made it up. She was the girl from all those years ago.

His heart skipped a beat, and before he could stop himself, he reached into his bag and pulled something out.

A tiny red hairclip—faded and slightly bent, but still holding its shape.

He didn’t pin it. He didn’t show anyone.

He just held it… and stared.

---

Later during lunch, Luna was sitting on the stairs, sipping strawberry milk, flipping through her childhood scrapbook.

She jumped when Zane walked over, looking as emotionless as ever.

“What do you want?” she muttered.

Zane didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her.

A red hairclip.

Luna blinked, confused. “What’s this?”

Zane shrugged slightly. “Yours.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t—”

But she froze.

Memories hit her like waves.

The cherry blossom tree.

A swing.

A little boy with stormy gray eyes… whispering,

“Don’t be scared. We’ve got this.”

Luna stared at the clip in her hand like it was magic.

“You…” she whispered.

Zane looked down, his voice quiet. “You forgot.”

“No,” she said, heart pounding. “I didn’t forget. I just… didn’t know it was you.”

Silence fell between them.

A soft, raw silence.

Then she looked up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zane hesitated.

“Because people change,” he said finally. “And I’m not him anymore.”

She tilted her head, eyes glimmering. “Maybe not. But he’s still in there somewhere.”

Zane looked at her—really looked at her—and for once, didn’t say anything cold or sarcastic.

Instead, he said softly, “You kept the picture.”

“And you kept the clip,” she smiled gently.

---

For the first time since the school year began… they sat beside each other.

No arguments.

No glares.

Just quiet. And something new beginning to bloom.

---

To Be Continued…

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