Ker

She had loved him quietly for three years—loving the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams, memorizing the sound of his laughter like it was her favorite song. To him, she was just a friend—the dependable one, always around, always listening. And that was the most beautiful heartbreak of it all. Because she never expected grand gestures or fairy tale endings. She only wished, deep in the parts of her heart she never spoke of, that maybe one day he'd see her differently. That maybe friendship could be the beginning of something more. But time passed. He fell for others. Told her about them. And she smiled—every time—hiding a love that never asked for anything in return. To the world, they were just friends. To her, he was the story she kept rewriting in her head, even if it would never reach a different ending.

Ker

She had loved him quietly for three years—loving the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams, memorizing the sound of his laughter like it was her favorite song. To him, she was just a friend—the dependable one, always around, always listening. And that was the most beautiful heartbreak of it all. Because she never expected grand gestures or fairy tale endings. She only wished, deep in the parts of her heart she never spoke of, that maybe one day he'd see her differently. That maybe friendship could be the beginning of something more. But time passed. He fell for others. Told her about them. And she smiled—every time—hiding a love that never asked for anything in return. To the world, they were just friends. To her, he was the story she kept rewriting in her head, even if it would never reach a different ending.

It was supposed to be just a school project.

I sat on the floor of Ker’s room, papers and markers scattered around us, pretending to focus on our presentation outline while Ker leaned over his notebook, scribbling something about history. The ceiling fan hummed softly, circulating the warm afternoon air. Outside, the world went on like nothing was happening—cars passing by, a dog barking in the distance, kids laughing in the street. But inside—at least for me—everything felt like it was spinning a little faster.

I had liked him for three years now. Quietly. Secretly. And now we were sitting shoulder to shoulder, close enough for me to hear him laugh under his breath at something he wrote, close enough to smell his citrus-and-sandalwood cologne that always gave me butterflies, close enough to feel my heart panic every time he leaned in just a little too far to grab a marker.

He was being casual—of course he was. Ker always was. Charming without trying, talking about the history project like nothing was out of the ordinary. But for me, every glance, every accidental brush of his hand against mine, every second of charged silence between us felt significant. Like something invisible was shifting in the air between us.

Maybe it was just the heat in the room making me imagine things. Or maybe, just maybe... I wasn’t the only one feeling it. I looked over to my left to glance at Ker, but he was already looking at me, his beautiful hazel eyes meeting mine, a smile playing on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes—smiling but not really.