something unexpected

"Made my day"

It was a Saturday morning, the kind of day most of us looked forward to sleeping in, escaping the dull routines of the week. But not today. Our phones buzzed early, a message from the class group: "Mandatory theory class at 10 a.m." Groans filled the air as we dragged ourselves out of bed. It felt unfair — a theory class on a weekend?

By the time I reached campus, the sun was already blazing high, pouring golden heat onto everything it touched. The air was heavy, like it had soaked up every bit of sunlight and turned it into a thick, draining weight. Even standing still felt exhausting, as though the sun was pulling energy straight out of our bones.

My friends and I found a shaded corner outside the classroom, complaining half-heartedly, fanning ourselves with notebooks, and exchanging stories from the week. We laughed, we gossiped — the usual — anything to delay the moment we had to step into that sweltering classroom.

Then came the call. Our teacher appeared at the doorway, waving us in with that familiar stern look. We straightened up, gathered our things, and walked in with a collective sigh of surrender.

As I stepped inside and took my seat near the corner by the window, I noticed him.

He wasn't anyone special, at least that's what I told myself. Just another face in the crowd, another classmate, someone I had probably passed by dozens of times without really seeing. But today, for some reason, he looked different. Or maybe I was just seeing him differently.

He sat a few rows away, the sunlight from the window falling on his shoulder, giving his already sharp features an even more dramatic edge. I tried to shake the thoughts away. You're just tired, I told myself. It's the heat messing with your head.

Still, my eyes kept drifting back to him. And then — he looked up. Our eyes met for a second. Just one second. But it was enough to make my stomach twist in that strange, fluttery way. I quickly looked away, heart unexpectedly racing. That didn't happen, I tried to convince myself. Just a coincidence.

The class dragged on endlessly. Words swam on the board, and my attention flickered in and out. All I could think about was that fleeting moment, those eyes that had caught mine.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the class ended. The room emptied quickly, students rushing to escape the heat and the boredom. I lingered a bit, mostly out of habit, tying my shoelace that had somehow come undone.

I sat on one of the benches just outside the room, head down, fingers looping the laces into a knot when I felt it — that feeling again. That odd, heavy sense of being watched. I slowly lifted my head, and there he was, standing not far off, his eyes fixed on me.

My breath caught. But the moment I noticed him, he shifted his gaze, pretending to listen to something his friend was saying. He nodded slowly, casually — too casually — like he hadn't just been staring at me.

You're imagining things, I told myself again. It's nothing.

We started walking home, me and my friends, chatting like usual. He and his group trailed behind us, talking among themselves. I tried not to be aware of him, to focus on my friends' conversation, but curiosity tugged at me.

I glanced over my shoulder.

And there it was again.

He was looking at me.

Not just a passing glance this time — a steady gaze, like he was trying to read something written on my face. And then, as soon as our eyes met, he turned back to his friend, said something quickly, and tilted his head in that smooth, almost shy way.

I didn't know what it meant. I didn't even know if it meant anything at all.

But something about it stayed with me — something silent and strange and soft.

And maybe… maybe it wasn't just a dream after all.