CHAPTER 5: HIDDEN FEELINGS AND REVELATIONS

From a trembling reflection in the sacred waters of the Masina of the water Tsaka, a white silhouette rises, bathed in a soft, unreal light. Rasoalao is reborn, her skin radiating a silent glow, outshining even the stars. She ascends, gliding beyond the embrace of the rivers, and with her, the water trembles in admiration—the forest too, and the animals.

Those mosa, masters of the hunt, howl at the sight of her walking upon the clear air. The vorondolo whirl around her but cannot truly approach due to her brilliance. The kary, lurking in the shadows, observe her with mute fear.

Nothing can hold her back now. She rises, untouchable, beyond the treetops and lifeless breaths. Neither the giant Rapeto, nor men, nor the wind will ever reach her again.

In the mirror of the waters, her radiance dances—an eternal offering to the Masina that cradled her. Now, she watches from the azure every night, a distant presence, an admirable and admired sight for all, yet intimate with none. Only the water that birthed her still whispers her name.

Here comes Miaro, stepping through the grand entrance once again. Again. As with every entrance she makes, the sight of her never grows old. But today, she doesn't have to hide behind a mask of seriousness. She scans each face but sees no one—or at least, not the one she's looking for. So, she enters the classroom, full of enthusiasm.

In class, she copies her lessons lazily. She rests her right cheek heavily against her hand as if it might collapse onto the desk at any moment. Her body drapes across the wooden bench, almost serpentine. The boys behind her shamelessly take in the scene. But she is a beauty—what man could remain indifferent to her elegant curves and that provocative posture? No one! Because everyone is secretly watching her from their own corners.

Even the teacher notices. He wants to tell her to sit properly, but she already is—more than properly, in fact. And then, she sits at the far-right side, second place next to the window—a discreet corner of the classroom. The kind of spot where geniuses like Miaro settle for such postures, out of sheer laziness. The teacher figures that since Miaro already masters all these lessons, revising hardly matters to her. After all, it's early December. There's not much left to do except prepare for the summer exams. Yes, in Madagascar, summer begins in December.

Tsiaro, the class delegate, stands in front of Miaro. Miaro wants to ask her about her friend's class, but hesitation holds her back. Whenever she asks for something, she usually explains the reason behind her request. But how could she possibly explain this one to Tsiaro?

Tsiaro also glances at Miaro from time to time. It's the first time she's seen her wearing glasses. But even with them, Miaro remains beautiful. Tsiaro herself wears glasses, so she doesn't really understand why it feels different on Miaro. Maybe it's just a girl thing—who knows?

Finally, Miaro breaks the silence.

— "I liked your friend who came here last Friday."

— "You mean Kanto? She's the class delegate of Second Eight."

— "… So that's her name." She murmurs.

— "Hm? What did you say?"

— "Oh, nothing… uh… She seems nice. I like her." Miaro says, trying to win Tsiaro over.

— "Come on, you like everyone, don't you? That's why everyone likes you."

Miaro just smiles. A meaningless smile, because deep down, she hates everyone with every fiber of her being. Because, in the end, no one really likes her for who she is.

— "I'd like to eat with you today. If that's okay."

But before Tsiaro can answer, Miaro's so-called "friend"—the one who always insists on sitting next to her—shoves herself into the conversation.

— "Oh, sweetheart. How do you expect them to afford a 5,000-ariary meal?"

— "She's right. We usually bring food from home. 5,000 ariary is too much for us."

— "See?"

— "Oh… but I wasn't planning on taking you to that restaurant. Their food is delicious, but I doubt it would actually fill you up… However, if you want to try it, I could always cover your meals."

She says this so casually, as if she were just a child offering pretty lollipops.

Impressed but mostly stunned by what she just heard, Tsiaro finally responds:

— "Alright, Miaro… We can eat together. But please, spare me that restaurant. It's… kind of scary."

The name of the girl who always considers herself Miaro's friend is Sitraka. I finally invoke her name because this is probably the last time she will appear in this story. But Sitraka—despite the image this novel might give her—is a reliable and kind person. She felt more than anyone else the light that radiated from Miaro. She sensed it so strongly, like a revelation, filling her entire being. She loved it. She wanted to get closer to it. And she grasped it as best she could. She wanted to protect this wonder because she also sensed its fragility. But now, as she watches the harmony between Miaro and Tsiaro, as she sees Miaro's smile, she understands. She realizes that if she stays too close, she might be the one to destroy this wonder. So from now on, she will still be there, but only as an observer.

So, during recess, Miaro follows Tsiaro to the second-year class, section eight, to announce to Kanto that they are going to become the best, best, best friends in the world. Haha… That's what she wants others to believe, and it's what she's trying to make herself believe. 

She keeps replaying this reasoning in her head on the way. Over and over again. Her shoulders rise up to her cheeks. Her eyes stay fixed on the ground: "Haintso showed me that I should surround myself with people who don't focus too much on my outward image. Tsiaro and Kanto fit that perfectly. Haintso showed me that happiness comes from a simple choice—to take control—and that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm not searching for it. Because Haintso showed me that being social can, despite everything, still mean putting myself first. Haintso showed me how to be cool, how to be inspiring… how to smile… how to breathe… how to breathe ?..."

—"Are you okay, Miaro?" 

She feels the warmth of a voice behind her, a soft vibration that echoes her thoughts. It's barely a whisper, but her heart stops instantly. Her body knows before her mind even reacts. 

Haintso.

She turns around too quickly, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. He's there, standing, his gaze slightly tilted toward her, that eternal calm smile resting on his lips. The same gaze that has unsettled her since the very first day. A moment suspended. A moment where she wants to say a thousand things, but no words come.

And before she can even manage a simple "hello," another voice cuts in.

—"Haintso, still as studious as ever, I see?"

It's Kanto, her tone laced with sarcasm. She steps forward, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, her expression deceptively light.

—"Shouldn't you finish copying your lessons before the second class?" she adds.

Haintso looks surprised.

—"Yeah, but…"

—"Listen, Haintso. It's just… the image we want to maintain, you know? We can't afford too much mixing."

Miaro looks lost. She doesn't understand what's happening.

Haintso glances at her for a moment, then at Kanto, before offering that same serene, almost amused smile.

—"I see."

He steps back calmly, without insisting, without showing the slightest discomfort. He moves toward a row of desks further away. Miaro would remember this place for a long time. You see, in a high school, there are spots that are easy to notice: 

First row: Reserved for the class representative, the top student. Second row, by the window: For the intelligent but detached student. They rank in the top ten but have no interest in being first. The back rows: The troublemakers. Those who come to class just to have fun. And finally, the extras: Ordinary students. Neither too dumb nor too smart, neither troublemakers nor particularly kind. They are just... there.

Haintso belongs to the last category. He seems so insignificant. He sits there, copying his notes, invisible to everyone. It's no surprise that teachers don't notice his absences. No one expects much from him. A simple excuse is enough to brush aside anything he does, because whether he is there or not… it makes no difference. After all, he doesn't exist. And those who don't exist—nobody ever asks them questions.

Miaro tries to focus on Kanto, on the conversation, on the image she wants to project. But deep down, every time her eyes drift to the back of the classroom and meet Haintso's, her heart tightens a little more.

And it was always like that every time she entered this classroom. Whether Haintso was there or not, her gaze always drifted toward that seat. Eventually, Kanto noticed, though she found it hard to believe.

—"Miaro, you seem preoccupied. What's on your mind?"

Miaro offered a faint smile.

—"Nothing in particular, just... thoughts."

—"Sorry, but it seems to me that you often look towards... Haintso? When you come here."

Miaro just smiled slightly.

—"Really? I hadn't noticed."

She said it nonchalantly because, even when she tried to approach him, others often got in the way. She was always surrounded by friends, admirers, while Haintso would slip away quickly. All she could do was watch him and silently hope that the invisible wall between them would one day crumble.

At this point, Miaro constantly thinks about Haintso. She's not even aware that she's doing it anymore. The rest of the world seems to fade away for her. She goes through her daily routine without questioning anything—because the only questions she asks herself are: "Where is Haintso?" when she enters the second-year class. If he's there: "What do that look and smile mean?". If he's not: "What is he doing right now?". And then, completely irrational thoughts creep in: "What if he's dating an older woman? No, impossible… right?". It sounds ridiculous, but it's entirely plausible. Haintso seems more mature than normal high school students. And if he's absent so often for… carnal pleasures? Well, that would explain why he's so thin. Not to mention how secretive he is... That kind of thing.

So when Rija notices her sad and thoughtful expression at the birthday party of…

Ah, woe is me! Forgive the lack of coherence. Do you remember Santatra's ultimate, mega party mentioned back in Chapter Three? Yes? Well, time flies when you're lost in your own head.

That's even more true for me than for Miaro, who has completely skipped over her exams, her vacation… Basically, we've been detached from reality. And just like that—without even realizing it—we find ourselves here, weeks later, at Santatra's party.

Then Rija shakes us up a bit:

Hey! If it isn't Miaro. This place must be just another beautiful palace for you to visit. Nothing interesting.

Nothing interesting, huh?

This place is up there, somewhere in Antaninarenina. From here, you get a stunning view of the bustling city center below, from Analakely to Ambohijatovo. Meanwhile, perched high above in Antaninarenina, the air feels lighter, almost unreal.

The sun is slowly setting, painting the sky with a burning gradient where orange melts into shades of purple and liquid gold. At this altitude, at this precise moment, you feel suspended between day and night, as if time itself is hesitating to tip over.

Below, I tell you, Analakely and Ambohijatovo come alive in a luminous ballet. The streetlights flicker on one by one, dotting the alleyways with golden glows, while the neon signs begin to shimmer. The organized chaos of the city center becomes a mesmerizing spectacle—the distant honking of horns blends into the rhythm of the night, weaving through the endless flow of movement. The city's energy pulses—vivid, electrifying.

From this spacious terrace, the city's bustle feels both close and distant. You can make out laughter rising from a nearby café, whispers carried by the wind. It's the kind of place where you could stay for hours, watching the endless motion of the world below while letting yourself drift in the softness of the moment.

This is what Miaro feels when she sees through her poetic eyes. What Rija describes, however, is the grand image of this place. On this terrace by the pool, when Rija looks down, the disorder disgusts him. And here, standing next to Miaro, he feels more like a noble prince beside the princess at this ball. Here, the only people present are those who will one day rule this country.

And he's right. Everyone here works tirelessly to maintain the image and legacy of their parents. Take Santatra, the host of this party—she is the daughter of one of Madagascar's largest firms. The estate they stand on literally belongs to her. Her father has been buying her properties since she was young, and by developing those, she's been able to acquire even bigger assets like this one. And everyone here comes from a similar mold.

Miaro, for example, owns luxury hotels in every province. Rija, on the other hand, has millions in his bank account—money his internationally renowned surgeon mother deposits for him every month as an apology for never being home.

Which makes his reasoning plausible. He wants to play the prince.

Because, honestly, let's look at Rija. Even as a high school student, he is rich and handsome. He already stands at one meter eighty with seventy-five kilos. He's not particularly muscular, but his body is developing well thanks to basketball. He has a striking face—perfectly square, fair-skinned, with smooth hair.

Everyone sees him as a future king. And even though this is his first time attending this party, he's already friends with everyone, and everyone respects him.

And at this moment, as everyone watches Rija talking to Miaro, among all the handsome boys chasing after her, he undoubtedly has the best profile. So, he launches his campaign.

—"You look so beautiful in that dress, Miaro."

—"Thank you," Miaro replies with a smile.

—"Would you like to dance?"

—"No, thank you. I'm feeling a bit tired right now."

Then Santatra joins the conversation.

—"Oh my, isn't this my best friend, Miaro?" she exclaims, hugging her tightly.

—"Sorry to interrupt your lovely conversation, but I want both of you to toast with us… By the way, you two make such a beautiful couple. You should totally date."

—"Isn't that right?" Rija adds smoothly.

But then Hantsa steps in as well.

—"Did you forget that I'm already dating Rija, Santatra?"

—"Oh… looks like we have a love triangle here," Santatra teases.

Everyone laughs.

Yes, no one really takes Hantsa's claim seriously.

And so, they step inside.

From the moment they enter, the atmosphere hits like a wave of heat, pulsing with the rhythm of the music. The dense lights spread across the walls, casting neon reflections that intertwine with the shifting shadows.

A vast dance floor stretches at the center, an open invitation to lose oneself, while colorful beams sweep across the space with almost hypnotic precision. It feels like an open-air nightclub, where every detail has been meticulously designed to elevate the moment.

Everywhere around, cozy lounges offer respite to tired dancers. Plush sofas, armchairs arranged in intimate circles, and low tables adorned with vibrant cocktails create an atmosphere of effortless indulgence. These students don't need supervision—freedom reigns here.

It's a striking contrast between the wild energy of the dance floor and the refined tranquility of the resting spaces.

Further ahead, a lavish buffet stretches out, overflowing with gourmet delights and decadent sweets. Right beside it, an illuminated bar catches the eye—glasses clinking, liquor flowing like whispered promises. Moderation doesn't hold a national ID here.

In short, one could get drunk on the atmosphere alone—no alcohol required.

After several dances and intense social interactions, everyone begins to settle down and take a breather. There's a calmer atmosphere now, with groups forming around the lounges, the buffet, and the bar. Miaro, already at the end of her patience, is sitting with Rija and a few other friends. Taking advantage of this moment of rest and the attention of others, Rija presses on.

—"Admit it, Miaro, we'd make the perfect couple, right? Look around you, everyone thinks so."

Miaro feels more and more suffocated. She's already put up with her so-called friends making decisions for her, Rija's advances which seem like a public game, and the overwhelming high-society atmosphere. She's looking for a way out, but instead, this Hantsa throws out even more exhausting words like:

—"Rija, my baby, you're already mine. And Miaro never dates anyone, I'm telling you. Everyone knows that. She's too focused on her studies. She's afraid to commit to anyone."

She says, currently drunk. But in a moment of exasperation, Miaro blurts something out, maybe in a sharp or sarcastic tone:

—"Lol, don't you think that if I'm rejecting you, it's because I already have someone?"

Silence falls. Everyone reacts with shocked or intrigued expressions. Santatra, who's busy flirting with her boyfriend, asks in surprise:

—"What? With who?"

Miaro hesitates for a split second, but she doesn't want to lose face. So, she blurts out the first name that comes to her mind:

—"His name is Haintso."

—"… Haintso?"

We all exchange puzzled glances: "Who is that?", "Maybe a student from her school?" But neither the circle, nor Hantsa, nor Rija knows such a name: Haintso? Everyone suspects some character might exist. For Rija, it's clear it's not him, so it must be someone else. He could always see it in Miaro's eyes. It's as if this princess is constantly chasing a shadow. And there, finally, is the name of this dreadful creature.

—"This guy sounds interesting. Can you tell us about him? Unless he doesn't exist."

But he does exist. And Miaro knows it. How many times has she wanted to share his incredible charisma? How many times has she called upon this dream? This image that she would have liked to erase, but which is still deeply embedded in her mind. "This guy, guy, is Haintso," she tells herself, loud at first, but then she lets herself go:

—"He's... calm and mysterious, with a half-smile that hides a lot of things. (Then quickly becoming completely absorbed) He has this intense gaze that makes you feel special, as if... he knows everything about you. More than you know yourself... like he knows everything about everyone... When you look at him, you see the world in a different light, as if he just rebuilt it before your eyes... And when he takes your hand, the whole world ceases to exist in front of you."

Everyone is astonished. They all sense the hidden emotion in Miaro. However, what Miaro feels in this moment is embarrassment. But she can no longer control what she's doing. So when a friend asks again:

—"Wow, that sounds amazing. How did you two meet?"

She instinctively replies:

—"Ah… yes, we met at the library. He helped me with some books, and since then, we often meet there... I go there for a little break."

No need to explain that last sentence. Guilty and anxious, she reflects on what she just did. Far from the laughter and conversations, she lets herself be overwhelmed by the weight of her lie and wonders how she's going to handle the situation with Haintso. She's panicking: "Oh my God, what did I say?", "Why did I lie? What got into me?", "Now I'll have to live with this lie, and Haintso had nothing to do with this. How am I going to explain it to him? How will I make everything go back to normal? Oh my God…"