part 4_ The White Scarf and the Beginning of Love

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I held the white scarf tightly against my chest—the soft wool still smelled of home, of my mother's warmth, and now it would carry a piece of me to him.

Every heartbeat whispered the same prayer:

"Tomorrow… please, let me see him again."

[The Next Morning]

The air was cold, biting at my cheeks, but inside, the heat of my nerves was burning.

With the scarf clutched tightly in my hands, I stepped onto the bus.

My legs were trembling as I walked to my usual seat.

At that moment, it felt as if only I and that seat existed in the whole world.

Carefully, I folded the scarf—like it was a precious secret.

I placed it on the seat, my hand resting on it for a few seconds as if leaving part of my soul there.

Taking a deep breath, I turned quickly and stepped off the bus.

With my head down, I walked fast, not wanting anyone to see me.

Each step felt heavy, my mind spinning with questions:

"What if he doesn't take it? What if he doesn't even notice?"

That night, I couldn't sleep at all.

Thousands of scenarios played in my head:

In one, he wrapped the scarf around his neck and smiled.

In another, he brought it back to me and asked, "Is this yours?"

Each scene repeated over and over.

[The Following Morning]

My hands were sweating despite the freezing air.

I arrived at the station, my heart pounding like crazy.

The bus came.

I climbed on and sat in my usual seat.

The scarf wasn't there—it was gone.

My chest tightened.

Did he take it?

Or… someone else?

The bus rolled toward the next stop.

My breath caught in my throat.

Every second dragged on endlessly.

And then…

✨ End of Chapter One – Part 4: The White Scarf and the Beginning of Love