The classroom felt colder than usual. She pressed her palms against the desk, trying to steady her shaking hands. Her heart wasn't in her notes, wasn't in the lecture—somewhere else, trapped in the tight, suffocating space between them.
She had seen it—the way he'd walked away, shoulders tense, jaw clenched. That distance… it felt like a wall she couldn't climb. And the worst part? She didn't know why.
Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly wiped them away before anyone could notice. Why did it hurt so much? It wasn't like she'd done anything wrong. She hadn't sought the senior's attention, hadn't wanted him. Everything in her chest had always been his. Always.
But he had let that wall rise. And she had no idea how to tear it down.
Is it me? Did I do something wrong?
Her throat tightened at the thought, and a sob threatened to escape. She turned her gaze to the window, hoping the sunlight would offer some comfort, but all it did was reflect her own helplessness back at her.
She remembered the last time he had smiled at her—the stolen, private smile after she explained the notes situation. That tiny acknowledgment should have eased the ache, but instead… it had made it worse. Because he had noticed, yes. But he hadn't come closer. He hadn't said anything.
What is wrong with him?
Her fingers fidgeted with the pen in her hand, crumpling the edge of the page without realizing it. She wanted to shout, to demand some clarity, some answer to the storm inside her chest. But what could she say?
"Why are you punishing me with your silence?" Too dramatic. Too childish. Too honest.
Her eyes burned, and she pressed her head into her hands. The tears that had been holding back finally slipped freely, hot and silent. She hated that she felt this way. Hated that she was hurting because someone else couldn't admit their own feelings.
And somewhere deep inside, a small, stubborn part of her whispered:
"He belongs to me. Even if he won't admit it… even if he won't see it. He's mine."
She clenched her fists under the desk. That thought should have been comforting, but it only made the ache sharper. Because she couldn't make him feel what she felt. She couldn't make him stay.
And that… that was breaking her.