I didn't plan anything that morning. There was no big decision waiting for me, no change in direction. I simply walked to school like always, with a bag that felt too big on my small back and thoughts that felt too heavy for a child my age.
At the school gate, someone called my name.
"Hey."
The voice was flat, a little lazy. I stopped. A boy stood there, lightly kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe. His uniform was wrinkled, his bag heavier than it should have been, and his hair looked like it was always cut in a rush.
I knew him not from this life, but from the one I had already lived and lost.
"You're late," he said. There was no accusation in his tone, just… waiting. I looked at him a second longer than I should have. He was still here. In my previous life, I had almost forgotten him. Not because he wasn't important, but because I was too busy growing up alone.
"Did you oversleep?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Oh."
That was all. He didn't ask why. He didn't care. We walked into the schoolyard side by side, our steps slow, almost lazy. There was no meaningful conversation, no big question, and somehow that made my chest feel tight.
In class, he took the seat next to mine without asking, as if it had always been that way.
"Your pencil," he said, pointing.
One had rolled off my desk. I picked it up. "Thanks." He nodded once and opened his book. That was the end of it, yet a quiet thought settled in my mind. People like this don't disappear without a reason.
During break, I sat alone like usual. He returned with two small bread rolls from the cafeteria and placed one on my desk without a word.
"I'm not hungry," he said as he sat down.
I knew it was a lie. The bread was warm, simple, nothing special, but my fingers trembled slightly when I held it. In my previous life, no one had ever done something like this for me.
"You've been quiet lately," he said suddenly.
I froze. The question was simple, almost harmless, but coming from him, it felt dangerous.
"I've always been quiet," I answered after a pause.
He looked at me for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright."
He didn't push, didn't try to understand, and for the first time since I came back, I felt safe.
After school, we walked home together. The sky was cloudy, and the sea breeze carried the same salty smell as yesterday.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Home."
"Oh. Me too."
The answer felt right.
At the entrance to the alley leading to my house, I stopped. He stopped as well.
"You live here, right?"
I nodded.
"Oh."
He stood there awkwardly, as if he forgot what he was supposed to do next. After a few seconds, he raised his hand in a small wave.
"Let's walk together again tomorrow."
It wasn't a question. He turned around and walked away. I stood there for a long time, watching his small figure disappear down the road.
In my previous life, I never noticed when we stopped walking together. This time, I remembered one thing with painful clarity. If this world ever pulls me away someday, this boy will be the first one left behind and maybe the first one I don't want to leave behind.