The next morning felt a bit different.
Not because the weather changed. Not because anything big happened.
But because he felt something shift inside him.
A very small change. Like a closed door opening just a little.
She noticed it.
He didnât look through her anymore. He looked at her.
Not with love or care. Just with awareness.
But to her, that was enough.
So, like always, she left him a note on his desk.
âTodayâs sky looks sleepy. Wanna race the clouds?â
He read it. Didnât smile. Didnât reply.
But this time, he didnât throw it away. He kept it inside his book.
At lunch, she sat next to him again. Uninvited. As always.
He didnât say anything. He didnât touch his food.
She placed a chocolate bar near him.
âFor when life tastes bitter,â she said.
He sighed. âWhy are you doing this?â
âDoing what?â she asked, pretending not to understand.
âAll of this. Notes. Sitting with me. Acting like weâre friends.â
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âIâm trying to be annoying,â she smiled. âAnd I think Iâm doing it well.â
He looked away. âPeople left me alone before you came.â
âMaybe thatâs the problem,â she said softly.
He didnât answer.
She sat quietly next to him. No more talking. Just stayed there.
He thought he hated it.
But maybe⦠he didnât.
The next few days, she was everywhere.
She waved at him in the hallway.
She waited for him after class.
She gave him random things â a red feather, a broken pen, a piece of paper with a silly quote.
Each thing came with a weird comment:
âThis is as lost as you.â
âThis is as quiet as you.â
âThis reminded me of you.â
He found her annoying. Loud. Strange.
But still, she was the only one who even noticed him.
That made it hard to push her away.
One day, he finally shouted.
âWhy wonât you stop?â
She didnât look scared. âWhy should I?â
âI donât want your friendship!â
She didnât smile this time.
âThen Iâll be something else,â she said quietly.
âWhat does that even mean?â
âIâll be a bird. Or a breeze. Or just a headache. You choose.â
She stood up and said,
âIâm not leaving. Not until you tell me what your favorite sky looks like.â
Then she walked away.
And he didnât know what hurt more â that she leftâ¦
or that she always came back.
The next day, he waited.
No note.
No voice during lunch.
No one in the hallway.
She was gone.
He felt something strange. Not sadness. Not anger.
He missed her.
Later that day, he found a small paper under his desk.
It was messy and torn. It said:
âIâll stop if you want. But I hope you donât.
Because maybe you donât need a friendâ¦
â¦but you deserve one.â
No name. No smile. Just that.
That night, he didnât cry.
He didnât smile either.
He just stared at the window and whispered,
ââ¦maybe I donât mind the noise anymore.â
And in that silence, something new began to grow:
Trust.