Chapter 3: A Quiet Invitation

Reaching our class, we parted to our seats.

She walked towards the back of the room, slipping into her usual chair.

I took my seat at the front.

She was surrounded by her group of friends within seconds, her carefree laughter blending effortlessly with theirs.

It was always like this.

Her cold, almost detached personality didn't push people away..... it pulled them in. They admired it. The way she carried herself, the way she never seemed to care too much.

And me?

I sat next to my ■■■?■■, someone far quieter.

A familiar feeling settled in my chest.

Like I can t■ust her....

[ .... ]

————————————————————

That night, I dreamt.

I didn't know why, but I found myself speaking before I even realized it.

The words slipped out— half formed, unfinished.

I told her about my dream.

But not the whole thing.

Never the whole thing.

I didn't tell her about what I saw in the video tape of my seventh birthday.

I didn't tell her that it was the last time h■r / my family was truly happy.

That for one day— just one day— there were no shadows under my father's eyes, no exhaustion dragging down my mother's shoulders.

No hunger.

Just us.

Just laughter.

Just my father lifting me onto his shoulders, spinning me around until the world blurred and all I could hear was his deep, booming laugh.

Just my mother, clapping along, her face bright —brighter than I ever remembered.

Just the smell of real food filling our home, my parents sneaking bites off each other's plates, teasing, giggling-

Like love was still easy for them.

Just my father pulling me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead, whispering—

"See, sweetheart? We're gonna be okay. We'll always be okay."

And sh■ believed him.

Of course, sh■ had.

Because sh■ was seven.

And at seven, sh■ / I thought parents could do anything.

That their promises were unbreakable.

That no matter what, they would find a way.

[ … ]

I told her about that day.

The day sh■ / I woke up to something wrong.

A voice – my father's. Soft at first. Then louder. And louder.

Until it wasn't just a voice anymore—

But something breaking.

Something too late to fix.

I told her how he wasn't convincing my mother to hold on.

He was begging her not to leave.

Not physically.

But in the way that mattered.

I told her how his hands trembled as he held her face, whispering, "Tell me it's not true. Tell me it was just one mistake. Just one."

I told her how my mother stayed silent, how she wouldn't meet his eyes, how her lips didn't deny it.

How h■r / my father broke right in front of h■r / me.

How his voice cracked when he whispered, "We're a family. Please. We can fix this."

And I told her about me, or what I thought was me.

How I sat in the corner, knees pulled to my chest, pretending I didn't understand.

But sh■ did.

Even at ■■?■, sh■ / I Understood.

I understood that please only works when the other person wants to stay.

That love, the thing h■r father held onto so tightly— was already gone.

That no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight for something that wasn't his anymore.

Those eyes he had.. Slowly getting ripped from it's hopeful future, to a hopeless reality.

Him believing he could lead us to a better life, now changed into a desperate measure, not accepting the real world's f■te brought upon him.

Although its just a dream, I found myself too involved with h■r— who carried my face...

It was also bruised. Although the dream never told me why.

And the dream faded.

It was weird how I remembered every detail.

——————————————————

When I woke up, the weight of it clung to me, but I shook it off. It was just a dream. That's all it was.

Besides— today was my birthday.

Ohh Waitttt— does she remember my birthday?

A small, ridiculous part of me hoped she did.

I wasn't sure why.

Maybe because, if she did, it meant she cared enough to hold onto something small. Something mine.

Deciding I needed to know, I asked her in a very casual tone, because that's what ■■■?■■ do.

"Brooo, remember what day today isss??

She blinked, tilting her head. "March 2… What about it?"

I felt something inside me sink.

But before it could settle -

Her eyes widened. "Oh wait— ohh flipp —HAPPY BIR —"

I clamped my hand over her mouth before she could finish.

I sighed in relief, glancing around the room.

Nobody seemed to bat an eye.

"That was so close-- bruh"

I smiled, rubbing the back of my neck.

Then, without really thinking, I asked —

"Ohh, and by the way, any plans on coming to my house to celebrate my birthday?"

My voice wavered slightly.

I hadn't meant for it to.

I didn't even know why I was hoping so badly that she'd say yes.

She blinked at me before grinning.

"Yeahh— why wouldn't I?"

She said it so easily.

Like it wasn't even a question.

Like it was obvious.

For a second, I just stared.

A laugh bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

"Yeah… why wouldn't you."

My voice was quieter this time.

Less playful.

More uncertain.

[ … ]

I glanced at her.

She didn't seem to notice the shift in my tone.

Or if she did, she pretended not to.

Her mind was already elsewhere— probably picturing the food, knowing her.

And me?

I looked at the back of the room.

I was stuck on the memory of the first and only time I'd ever invited HER.

The way she had rejected it.

So effortlessly.

So carelessly.

Like it meant nothing at all.

After that, I stopped inviting people.

Because rejection hurts.

More than people realize.

More than I knew how to handle.

And yet—

I turned to look at her again.

My seatmate, my ■■■?■■.

She had said yes.

Just like that.

.... I thought she wouldn't accept.. Just like her-

[ … ]

————————————————————

Something in me stirred.

Without thinking, I grabbed my seatmate's shoulders, shaking her lightly.

"Whaaaa— are you serious??? Whatttt —"

I wasn't even sure why I was so excited.

But she only laughed.

"So.… what time?"

"Well, don't be late! It'll start at 6:00 in the afternoon, but I'm sure it'll start an hour late due to late guests."

She raised an eyebrow. "So... 7:00 pm, then?"

I nodded aggressively.

For the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely happy.

And then—

The class representative took a seat at the front of the room, clapping their hands together.

"Alright, guys!! The subject teacher for this hour won't be coming in today, so she said we can do whatever we want until her time ends."

The classroom erupted into cheers.

A rare free period.

For most students, it was a good thing.

For me…

I wasn't so sure.

Because the silence always felt heavier for me than it did for everyone else.

[ .... ]

Since gadgets weren't allowed in our school, most students filled the time by chatting or playing whatever games they could come up with, since teachers rarely came.

I usually ended up hoping for that rare chance,

That a teacher would still show up and fill the silence.

My seatmate, though?

She thrived in it.

She could joke, play, distract herself so easily—while I sat there, struggling to fill the silence between us.

And yet, even when I tried to talk to her, our conversations never lasted long.

She'd always ind a way to cut them short, her attention drifting elsewhere.

She never really shared herself with anyone.

And as much as I wanted to open up to her, to let her in, I felt like I was the only one who cared enough to try.

So, after a while... I stopped.

—————————————————

I shook the thoughts away, forcing a grin. Maybe it was a weak attempt at masking everything, but it was something.

She caught my expression and, for a moment, gave me a small smile in return.

Because when my eyes met hers again…

Her face was the same as before. Quiet. Distant. Unreadable.

She sat by the window, sunlight casting shadows over her face.

And for a split second, I thought I saw something there.

Something distant. Something unreadable.

Something I wasn't sure I wanted to understand.

I swallowed.

Can I really trust [ Jane ]?

Can I really call her my ■■■?■■—?

Info 1:

[ ■■■?■■ – means = not sure if a friend or foe. ]