Nunca Pensaste Quedarte

Chapter 2

Yara's POV

“You look like you crawled straight out of hell,” Dia teased.

Normally, I would’ve laughed. Today, I didn’t.

I just walked past her and dropped into my seat without a word

It was his fault.

I didn’t even understand why my heart was pounding so hard—was it embarrassment, humiliation, or something far more dangerous? Each thud echoed in my ears, loud and restless.

Whatever that feeling was, I needed it to calm down. It wasn’t worth racing like this. He wasn’t worth the chaos in my chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Dia asked, leaning closer.

“Nothing. Just our return demo later,” I replied too quickly.

It was a lie.

“Girl, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You always ace your return demos. There’s no reason to be nervous.”

I forced a small nod, pretending she was right, pretending that the pounding in my chest had anything to do with the skills lab and not with him.

Our instructor stepped into the laboratory, the sharp scent of antiseptic and metal instantly quieting the room.

“For your return demonstration,” she began, setting her clipboard down, “I won’t be here to monitor you.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the class. Confused glances. Raised brows. Someone dropped a pen.

“Your seniors will be the ones evaluating you,” she added.

A bad feeling settled in my stomach.

This can’t be good.

“Please welcome your seniors—Rhea, Jayden, and Maxwell.”

She motioned toward the door.

The moment they stepped inside, the room seemed to shrink. And so did my lungs.

What the heck is happening to me?

For a second, everything blurred at the edges. My heart started pounding—hard, frantic—like it was trying to break free from my chest. Each beat echoed in my ears, loud enough to drown out the whispers around me. It felt like something was clawing its way up my throat, desperate to escape.

As if—

“Ms. Yara, do you have any concerns?”Her voice cut through the noise. I blinked.

My hand was raised.

I didn’t even remember lifting it.

“Uh—may I go out for a moment?” I asked, the words stumbling over each other. It was the only excuse I could think of.

She studied me briefly before nodding. “Go ahead. We’ll start in five minutes.”

Five minutes.

I stood up on unsteady legs and walked out of the laboratory, feeling detached from my own body—like my soul had stepped out ahead of me and forgotten to wait.

What is wrong with me?

When I returned to class, I still felt like I was floating—like my feet hadn’t quite touched the ground yet.

I slipped into my seat and forced myself to focus, even pinching my arm under the desk.

"Get it together."

“Hey, girly,” Dia whispered, nudging me with her elbow. “Who are you choosing?”

“Huh?” I blinked at her.

“For the return demo. We have to pick a senior evaluator, remember? So… who’s it going to be?”

Oh. Right.

The room suddenly felt smaller. I had this strange sensation that someone was watching me—waiting. As if the wrong answer would sink its teeth into me.

“Uhmm… maybe Jayden?” I said, though it came out more like a question.

Dia’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? After you rejected him?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off.

“That was so last year, Dia.” I said with a light laugh.

But my chest tightened anyway.

Rhea and I had never gotten along—not after what happened before. Choosing her would be academic suicide. And Max? He wasn’t even an option in my mind. I didn’t have the courage to stand in front of him, let alone risk earning a zero under his gaze.

So yes, I’d rather face my old suitor—the one I once turned down—than stand in front of someone who could reduce me to nothing with a single score sheet.

At least with Jayden, I knew what kind of danger I was walking into.

I was the last to perform the return demo, probably because I was last in line. Now, I regretted stepping away to the restroom earlier.

Every gaze in the room felt sharp, almost predatory, as if I were prey under the scrutiny of someone who knew exactly what they were looking for.

And Maxwell… he was the hunter. Calm. Patient. Every subtle movement of mine under his watchful eyes made my pulse quicken.

I pinched myself, trying to steady the tremor in my hands and the flutter in my chest before stepping up.

Jayden’s sweet, reassuring smile across the room offered a momentary anchor, but another gaze cut through everything else—intense, almost unbearable. I couldn’t place it.

Rhea, still upset? Dia, worried I’d make a mistake? My stomach twisted, but deep down I knew—it wasn’t them. Whoever it was, the weight of that look pressed on me more than anything else in the room, making my heart pound like it might burst.

I swallowed hard. “That’s it. Thank you, sir,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. And just like that, the tension lifted from my shoulders as though an invisible weight had been removed.

“You did great, Yara,” Jayden said softly, but my attention had already drifted.

Because Maxwell was looking at me. Not just looking—holding me in a gaze so intense I felt like he could see every thought racing behind my eyes.

When he spoke, his voice wasn’t just praise. It was low, deliberate, and meant only for me.

“I am so proud of you. Great job.”

Heat pooled in my chest. My breath hitched. The applause, the room, everything faded into the background. Just his eyes.

Just that look that made my skin tingle and my mind spin. It was more than pride. It was admiration, focus… something dangerous, something electric.

I wanted to say something—anything—but my words tangled up in my throat. I could only meet his gaze, feeling the fluttering of my heart echo the unspoken tension between us.

"What was that?" I whispered to myself, my chest tightening.

I shook my head, pretending it was nothing. Again. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

I forced myself to focus on my books, burying the flutter in my chest, as if it weren’t there. As if all the memories weren’t clawing their way back. Because I didn’t want to go back…

Flashback:

“Hi, Mingming.” I greeted the cats softly, brushing my fingers through the fur of one that circled my legs.

“How are you?” I added, as though they might answer.

Stray cats were everywhere around our school, and I was grateful that some people cared—our guard included. At the entrance, a small plate of food for cats and dogs welcomed anyone who wanted to feed them.

But today, in the garden, I spotted a new face—a small, scrawny cat—and thankfully, I had my bag of treats with me.

I knelt down, murmuring to it, tossing crumbs near its paws. My heart always warmed at moments like this.

Then I sensed it—a presence behind me. My body stiffened.

“Hey… sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” a voice said.

He sat down beside me, careful, respectful. The cat now perched comfortably between us.

“I always feed them. They’re really cute" he said, his tone casual, innocent.

“I do too,” I admitted, glancing at the little creature.

“You’re naughty. You’ve already been fed, and yet you still eat like no one else gives you food.” I pouted, frowning at the cat as if scolding it. “You tricked me.”

A soft laugh brushed past my ears. “Your pouting… it’s adorable.” he said, still smiling.

My heart stuttered.

“What’s your name?” he asked, genuinely curious.

I grinned. “Just call me… cat feeder.”

And without waiting for his reply, I stood, letting the cat linger, and walked away—without saying goodbye.

Later, I learned from a few classmates that he was a senior, a year ahead of us. He had a reputation: smart, talented, strikingly handsome. No wonder people admired him.

Even after that day, I kept seeing him. Always feeding the strays, always gentle, always unbothered by the dirt or discomfort.

Then one afternoon, I saw him differently.

I was walking home when I spotted him crouched beside a homeless man. Two burgers and other food lay in a paper bag. He wasn’t afraid of the dirt, the stares, the uniform he wore—pure, pristine white.

He sat on the ground, talking to the man as if they were equals. Age didn’t matter. School didn’t matter. Barriers didn’t exist.

And in that moment, something shifted. Something inside me broke and rewrote itself.

I realized, with quiet certainty, that I liked him.

Not just liked. Something deeper. Something real.

After that day, I realized I was falling for him. Quietly, carefully. I made sure Jana and Dia didn’t notice—I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t want to jinx this fragile little spark growing inside me.

I watched him from afar, silently. Every smile he gave, every small gesture, every victory—I stored them all like precious little treasures. I went to his events, cheered from the crowd, and left anonymous messages on the freedom wall just to see him smile, even if he’d never know it was me.

But now… I wanted more. I wanted to stop hiding.

I baked brownies—his favorite. And a small red velvet cake, just for him. My hands had trembled while frosting it, but I convinced myself it didn’t matter.

I wasn’t expecting anything. After all, we’d only talked once. I liked him from a distance, and that had always been enough.

I told myself it didn’t matter if he didn’t feel the same; even if he rejected me, I could go back to admiring him silently. At least I’d tried.

The day he won Mr. Representative, my heart thumped so fast it felt like it might burst. I rehearsed my words in my head over and over as I walked toward him. And then I froze, my stomach dropping.

He was laughing with his friends.

“You have a lot of fans. Can I take a picture of you, Maxwell?” one said, joking.

“Someone said, ‘Go Maxwell, or not, you’re still my number one crush."another teased. They laughed.

Not him. His voice was cold, slicing through the laughter. “Stop that. I don’t like any of them.”

A hollow ache settled in my chest.

“Then who do you like… Rhea?”

Rhea

Rhea. Rhea. Rhea. The word repeated itself in my head like a cruel echo. My lips went dry, my hands clammy. I had brought a piece of my heart with me in that cake and those brownies, and now… it felt like it had been shattered before I could even offer it.

I turned and left. The corridor blurred as my tears fell, hot and shameful. I didn’t even try. I didn’t even say a word.

Later, I faced myself in the restroom mirror.

My eyes were red, brimming with tears I couldn’t stop. My reflection stared back at me, teary and trembling.

“I… I wasn’t expecting anything,” I whispered to the glass. My voice cracked, and I blinked rapidly, trying to hold it back. “Then why… why does it hurt like this?”

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to tell myself to move on. But as I stared at my own reflection, I realized the truth—I didn’t just like him from afar. I had fallen. And now, seeing him belong to someone else… it was the heaviest, most beautiful pain I had ever felt.

Every heartbeat screamed his name. Every tear a reminder. And I wondered, helplessly.

After that day, rumors started swirling—Maxwell and Rhea, together. I didn’t need anyone to confirm it; the whispers were enough. Every snippet, every sly comment, felt like a quiet, undeniable truth.

It took me a long time to move on. Funny, really—because we never even had a story. No memories to hold onto, no shared laughter… just a fleeting “what if” that never became “us.”

Our story had ended before it even began.

___ end of flashback

And I promised myself—never again. I won’t be that fool. Not again. Not for someone who wasn’t mine to begin with.