When Hate Writes Back
Chapter 15 — Tiny Hints
The next day, I tried to focus in class, but my mind kept wandering.
It was nothing new — Keifer was there, leaning back in his chair, smirking like he knew something I didn't. Every little action, every sarcastic comment, tugged at something inside me. And the nagging thought refused to leave: Could he…?
During lunch, I found myself scrolling through old messages from my pen pal. Nostalgia mixed with unease as I read lines I had cherished for years. Then, one particular message made my breath catch:
"You'll notice the smallest details soon enough. Pay attention to the way he moves, the words he chooses, the little things he doesn't even realize he's doing. That's when the truth will hit you."
I stared at it. The truth…?
Just then, Keifer bumped into my shoulder — not hard, just a casual, almost clumsy touch as he passed. "Watch it, Jay," he said, smirking.
My chest skipped a beat. That clumsy little bump — my pen pal had mentioned it once, years ago, describing how they noticed the "small gestures no one else sees, the moments that reveal who a person really is."
I froze, staring at him. Was it just coincidence? My pen pal was vague — always cryptic — but the parallel made my stomach twist.
Estelle, sitting across from me, noticed my sudden distraction. "What is it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing," I whispered, but my fingers trembled slightly as I typed a quick note to my pen pal later that night:
"Something small happened today. I don't know if it means anything, but… it felt familiar. Too familiar."
"Good," came the reply, calm as ever. "Notice. Pieces are falling into place, little by little. Keep watching. Trust your instincts."
I sank back into my chair, heart pounding. The hint was tiny — almost laughably insignificant — but it was there. A sliver of possibility that the boy I hated at school and the boy I loved online might not be two separate people after all.
Oblivious. Completely oblivious.
And yet, the tension, the teasing, the sparks… it was growing, making my chest ache in ways I couldn't explain.