Monday! The start of the week—and school. Even though going six days a week is boring and exhausting, at least my friends can make my day better and hype me up. Maybe we can even gossip about the secret relationship between our history and science teachers too, haha.
I woke up feeling sick. No, actually… being sick. My body ached so badly that even in my sleep, I had curled up tightly. I touched my forehead. Shit—it's hotter than my K-pop bias. My head was pounding so hard, I felt like my brain wanted to escape my skull.
Then all the events from yesterday came rushing back. It's all his fault! Ugh. That only made my headache worse.
If he hadn't splashed water all over me, I wouldn't be sick today. He even ruined my brand-new clothes and had the audacity to not even apologize.
Feeling down and completely drained, I slowly got up to take some medicine—slower than a snail. My back ached like crazy; I looked like a 90-year-old grandma, barely able to walk.
After taking the medicine, I gulped down a full cup of water to cool myself down. Then I went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee—I wasn't in the mood to eat anything else. I'd eat later.
Surprisingly, the coffee actually helped me wake up, which hardly ever happens. I went to the bathroom to splash water on my face and brush my teeth. I usually take a quick shower, but given my state, I decided to skip it.
I quickly changed into my uniform: just a white blouse and black skirt. Since it was fall, I added thick tights and a cotton undershirt to stay warm.
I went to my study table to grab my phone off the charger. Turns out I had a message from Emma—my best friend.
📩 From: Bestie
How are you? Why didn't you pick up my calls last night? I tried so hard to reach you.
Wait… did she call me last night? I checked my recent calls. Five missed calls from Emma.
I immediately typed a message back.
📩To: Bestie
Hi! Sorry for not picking up your calls. I wasn`t feeling well yesterday and my phone was dead.
She replied almost instantly.
📩From: Bestie
Ohh… OK! Are you coming today?
📩To: Bestie
Yeah! Of course, I don't want to ruin my perfect attendance.
Sigh. Dragging myself to the door, I grabbed my keys. Just as I was about to leave, I remembered the cold weather from yesterday… and that arrogant stranger.
Ugh! Don't think about him.
I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside. When I finally got to school, I hurried to my locker—and there was Emma, standing beside it. She greeted me with a smile that quickly shifted into concern.
"Wow, you look sleep-deprived and really pale. Are you alright?"
Great. Just great.
"I just caught a cold," I said, bored.
"Ugh, class is starting. Let's go," I added.
The bell rang just as we stepped into the classroom. The teacher hurried us to our seats—she seemed a bit happy today, unlike me.
Everyone was chattering. My head hurt; I hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. I decided to lay my head on the desk. Let's just say I was reading with my eyes closed.
The classroom smelled like cheap perfume and marker ink. Someone laughed too loudly behind me. Another person kept tapping their pen over and over, as if trying to test my patience.
"As usual," the teacher began, her voice floating above the noise, "we need to talk about—"
As usual, she started babbling.
Maybe it was something important. Probably exams. Or deadlines. Or futures I was too tired to care about.
The classroom door opened.
Whispers rippled across the room—must be a new student.
I didn't look up.
Transfer students came and went in this school like seasonal colds—announced, whispered about, forgotten. Still, the chatter shifted.
I could feel everyone leaning in, trying to see who it was.
"Oh," the teacher said, her voice lifting in a way it never did. "You must be our new student."
Her heels clicked as she walked toward the door. I could practically picture it without seeing—straight posture, softened smile. She was young, late twenties at most, and suddenly very aware of herself.
"Class," she continued, practically glowing, "we have a transfer student joining us today. Please be nice."
Footsteps echoed through the classroom, crisp and deliberate.
Some people gasped. Chairs creaked as heads turned, whispers rippling like a wave across the room.
Then a voice cut through the chatter—confident, arrogant, undeniably rich.
The events of yesterday came rushing back, unbidden.
Wait… I know that voice.
My forehead, still pressed to the desk, suddenly felt heavy with heat.
The moment I looked up… our eyes met.
Crap. Monday really isn't a good start.