Lily was quiet for a while after finishing her story.
Lia watched her carefully, small fingers folded in her lap. Then she spoke, her voice gentle.
"So… what did you do next, Grandma?"
Lily smiled faintly, the kind of smile that barely touched her lips.
"I did what I always did," she said softly.
"I disappeared into myself."
After that moment at the gate, my heart refused to settle.
Not fast. Not loud.
Just… uneasy.
I walked deeper into the campus, clutching my bag tighter than necessary, the strap digging slightly into my shoulder. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Don't think about it.
It was nothing.
Just a coincidence.
But my mind didn't listen.
Every few steps, the memory replayed — the brief meeting of our eyes, the calm in his gaze, the way my chest had thumped before I could stop it.
This is why you shouldn't look at people, I scolded myself.
You panic. You overthink. You embarrass yourself.
I slowed near one of the buildings and stopped in front of a notice board crowded with papers and faded posters. I stared at it without really seeing anything.
Which classroom was it again?
Why are there so many rooms?
Students passed me easily, confidently — their footsteps sure, their conversations light. They looked like they belonged here. Like they knew exactly where they were going.
My heart began to beat faster.
Not from excitement.
From something familiar.
Fear.
Should I ask someone?
No… don't bother them.
They probably won't even notice you.
I stood there a little too long.
No one cares anyway, I thought quietly.
I'm just another quiet face in the crowd.
An ugly, invisible one.
The words came naturally — as if they had lived inside me for years.
Lia frowned when she heard that.
"Grandma…" she said softly. "That's not true."
Lily blinked, pulled back into the present.
"I've seen your younger photos," Lia continued, smiling.
"You were so cute. Long black hair, brown eyes… your skin glowed. And your cheeks — so chubby."
She laughed lightly.
"And that little dimple near your mouth when you smiled."
Lily froze.
No one had said that to her in a very long time.
Something quiet settled in her chest — not happiness, not sadness — just stillness.
Someone had said something similar once before.
A very long time ago.
She didn't say that part out loud.
She only smiled at Lia and nodded gently.
Back then, I finally gathered enough courage to stop someone walking past.
"E-excuse me," I said softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Do you know where the art lecture is?"
The girl pointed quickly, already turning away.
"Second floor. Left."
"Thank you," I murmured.
She didn't hear me.
I walked into the classroom and took a seat near the back, like always. When I pulled out my sketchbook, my fingers relaxed for the first time that day.
This is why I'm here, I told myself.
This is the only place I don't feel wrong.
As soon as my pencil touched the paper, the world softened. The noise around me faded. My thoughts slowed. Lines formed. Shapes made sense.
I didn't need to speak.
I didn't need to explain myself.
Drawing listened to me when people didn't.
That was why I chose this major.
Not because I wanted to be seen.
But because I wanted somewhere to breathe.
Lily looked at Lia and smiled gently.
"I walked into that class like nothing mattered," she said.
"Because for a little while… nothing else did."
She rested her hands in her lap.
"I didn't know then," she added softly,
"that some people see us long before we learn how to see ourselves."
---
The lecture hall slowly filled with noise.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags dropped. Laughter spilled easily between people who had only just met.
I sat quietly, watching.
It amazed me how fast people became close.
Someone leaned over to whisper a joke. Another shared snacks. Names were exchanged like they were nothing — simple, effortless.
I tried not to stare.
This is normal, I thought.
This is how people are.
I turned slightly toward the girl beside me.
"Um… is this your first year too?" I asked softly.
She nodded, distracted, eyes already drifting elsewhere.
"Yeah."
Before I could say anything more, someone called her name from the back. She smiled brightly and turned away.
Conversation over.
I stared down at my notebook.
Of course.
It happened again later.
And again.
Small attempts. Quiet words. Short replies that faded too fast.
No one was rude.
No one was cruel.
They just… didn't stay.
That somehow hurt more.
By the time the lecturer began speaking, my chest felt heavy — not painfully, just enough to notice.
It okay, I told myself gently.
You're used to this.
I pressed my pen harder against the paper, grounding myself.
You don't need anyone.
You never did.
And then — without warning — the past crept in.
You're useless.
You can't do anything right.
My hand stilled.
Why are you like this?
Can't you be normal?
My mother's face blurred through memory. My siblings' disappointment echoed — not angry, just tired.
That was worse.
I blinked hard.
Stop.
That was before.
This is now.
The lecturer paused.
Everyone stood.
Class change.
Reality rushed back all at once. I stood too — slower than everyone else — my heart aching from words that were no longer being said, but had never really left.
By the end of the day, I felt exhausted in a quiet way.
Not tired from learning.
Tired from holding myself together.
I walked toward the bus stop, the air warm against my skin. Voices surrounded me — overlapping, distant.
And then… him.
Not in front of me.
Not beside me.
Only in my mind.
The way his eyes had met mine earlier replayed again.
I stopped walking.
Why am I thinking about him?
Heat crept into my cheeks. I glanced around, embarrassed for no reason at all.
Don't be obvious, I scolded myself.
Maybe he takes this bus too.
The thought made my chest feel light — and immediately uncomfortable.
The bus arrived. I stepped inside, scanning the seats without meaning to.
He wasn't there.
Of course he wasn't.
Something inside me sank quietly.
I sat by the window and watched the road blur past.
It's fine, I told myself.
You don't even know him.
Still, the moment replayed again and again.
And I didn't understand why.
---
Lily stopped speaking.
Lia waited.
Then she asked gently, "Grandma… were you lonely back then?"
Lily smiled — not sadly, not bitterly.
"I was," she said honestly.
"But I didn't know how to say it. So I learned how to live with it."
She squeezed Lia's hand.
"Feeling lonely doesn't mean something is wrong with you," she whispered.
"Sometimes it just means you haven't been seen yet."
The next morning came too quickly.The sky was pale and quiet, the air cool enough to wake me fully. I stood at the bus stop with my bag held close to my chest, my eyes fixed on the empty road ahead.
Maybe today.
The bus arrived.
He wasn't there.
The next day, my eyes searched again.
And the next.
Each morning followed the same rhythm. The same stop. The same waiting. And each time, a small, fragile hope appeared in my chest before I could stop it.
I didn't know his name.
Didn't know anything about him.
And yet… I wanted to see him again.
Just once.
---
That morning, I chose a seat near the back of the bus, by the window. I rested my forehead lightly against the cool glass, watching buildings and trees slide past in a soft blur.
He won't come, I told myself.
Stop hoping.
The doors opened.
I didn't look at first.
Then something shifted in my vision.
My fingers tightened slightly around my bag. I glanced up — then immediately looked down again, pretending to adjust the strap.
No. Don't stare.
Don't make it obvious.
My heart began to beat faster.
I peeked again.
It was him.
He stepped onto the bus, hair slightly messy, shoulders relaxed, face looking tired but gentle. For a moment, everything around me seemed to quiet — like the world had lowered its volume.
He looked around briefly… then took the seat right in front of me.
My heart skipped.
Now all she could see was the back of his head.
His soft, fluffy hair.
Without realizing it, a small smile formed on her lips.
He came today.
Then she heard it
he coughed.
Once.
Then again.
Her smile faded into worry.
Oh…
He doesn't sound well.
Her chest tightened for a reason she didn't understand.
Is he sick?
Did he sleep properly?
A strange thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it.
I want to touch his hair.
Just once.
I want to tell him it's okay… that he'll be fine.
Her eyes widened.
What am I thinking?
Her heart started racing—not gently this time, but wildly.
This isn't me.
I don't think like this.
Why do I care so much?
She pressed her hands against her bag, grounding herself.
Calm down.
He's just someone you saw once.
But her heart didn't agree.
It fluttered quietly, stubbornly.
---
Lily paused in her story, covering her mouth slightly as she laughed under her breath.
Lia's eyes sparkled.
"Grandma," she teased, "were you blushing?"
Lily looked away, cheeks warm even now.
"…Maybe," she admitted softly.
She smiled, embarrassed—but fond.She looked back at Lia gently.
"You know my dear, seeing him that morning… made the my day feel lighter."
End of Chapter 2