Chapter 1 – A New Seat

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......

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