He didn't sit in the window seat today.
That's how I knew something had changed.
He came in late. Took a spot in the back, head down, hood up.
No notebook. No flower. Not even a glance in my direction.
And maybe he didn't mean anything by it. Maybe I'm just overthinking again.
But still—
I felt it.
That quiet shift.
That distance that wasn't there yesterday.
I kept telling myself not to read too much into things.
"He's just tired."
"Maybe he had a rough morning."
"It doesn't mean anything."
But it felt like it meant everything.
After class, I lingered. Pretend to organize my notes just to see if he'd look my way.
He didn't.
He walked out with a word. Didn't even paused at the door.
Talia asked me if I was okay. I told her I was fine.
What else was I supposed to say? "I'm unravelling because a boy who barely speaks didn't look at me today?" I'd sound ridiculous.
But isn't that the thing about emotions? They don't ask for permission before they crash in and wreck you.
It's not like we were anything. Not really.
Just glances. Small moments. Little sketches in the corners of paper.
But I thought… maybe.
And now I'm not sure what I thought at all.
Almost isn't always enough. And maybe this is the part where I start to forget how it felt when he first said my name.