Across the Hall

Mia Santos never believed in love at first sight. Not in the movies. Not in books. And certainly not in the middle of Westfield Senior High School, where the floors smelled like disinfectant and students rushed through the hallways with half-finished homework and lukewarm coffee. But then she saw him. It was an ordinary Thursday morning. She was walking to her Chemistry class, earbuds in, pretending the music drowned out the noise around her. That’s when she passed Room 204—and paused. He was sitting by the window, hunched over a sketchpad, his pencil moving swiftly across the page. Headphones on, completely detached from the chaos outside his classroom. He didn’t look up, didn’t flinch. The late morning sunlight poured in beside him, casting soft light on his dark hair. For a second, Mia stood there, watching. Wondering. Then someone bumped into her, muttered an apology, and the spell broke. She didn’t know who he was. Just that he had calm energy and an aura of stillness that felt oddly magnetic in a place that never slowed down. His name, she later learned, was Liam Reyes. A transferee from Cebu. Quiet. Loner. Always drawing. Some people called him mysterious. Others called him weird. Mia didn’t care what they said. From that day on, she found herself walking past Room 204 more often—sometimes deliberately late to class, just to catch a glimpse. Sometimes, he was drawing. Sometimes, he was simply staring out the window. But he was always there. She didn’t speak to him. Not yet. Not until Humanities Week arrived. That was when their names were called together during group assignments, and fate—without asking—decided to finally throw them into the same orbit.