1. ep introduction of both ml and fl

Oakridge High buzzed with energy, but Aira moved like she was part of another world.

While students filled the courtyard with chatter and laughter, she quietly slipped through the gates, hoodie over her head, backpack hanging off one shoulder, her steps calm and measured. She didn’t smile. She didn’t wave. She didn’t need to.

People noticed her — not because she stood out, but because she didn’t try to.

 

I don't like her always maintain wall around her why don't spoke to anyone everyone trys to approach her to talk her but “She’s so weird,” a girl whispered behind her.

“Keeps to herself. Doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“Yeah. But she’s not rude. Just… cold. Like aa human version of a locked phone.”

Aira heard it all. She always did. But she never reacted. That was her secret — if you don't give people your attention, they eventually lose interest.

 

In class, she sat by the window, third row from the back. She liked the view. She liked the silence. She especially liked not having to make eye contact.

Then the door opened.

A late student walked in, tall and lean with disheveled black hair, a leather strap bag slung over one shoulder. His smirk made half the girls in the room sigh out loud.

Reyan.

“Back from Europe,” someone whispered.

“He’s still hot,” another added.

“He’s still a player,” a third muttered.

The teacher barely looked up. “Reyan, you’re late. Take the seat beside Aira.”

Great.

 

He sat down with a low grunt, dropping his bag with a thud. Aira didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes on her notebook. She could feel him glance sideways, but she didn’t flinch.

He tapped his pen, paused, then clicked it open.

“You don’t need to click that,” she said quietly.

Reyan blinked. “Sorry?”

Aira didn’t look at him. “It’s already open.”

He looked down. The pen was, in fact, already open. He smiled slowly.

“You talk?” he asked, amused.

“Only when it matters,” she said.

“Cool,” Reyan muttered, chuckling under his breath.

 

Lunch break.

Aira sat alone in the courtyard, sketching in a small notebook — not that anyone could see what was inside. Reyan, across the campus at the popular table, leaned back in his chair, drinking soda.

“Who’s that girl you’re sitting next to?” a guy asked him.

“Aira,” Reyan replied. “Doesn’t talk much.”

“She pretty?”

He shrugged. “She’s... something. Hard to describe. Like a locked room in a library.”

 

After school.

Aira walked past the bike racks. Reyan was leaning against his motorbike, joking with a girl. His voice dropped when he noticed Aira.

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t break her stride. Didn’t care.

And Reyan?

For once, he didn’t smile.

Narration (Reyan’s POV):

"Most girls a want me to notice them.

She doesn’t even glance.

So why do I keep watching?"

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