The Fence Between Us

Episode 6: After Eight Years, There You Were

The sea shimmered in blazing shades of crimson at sunset, and the wind whipped the thin flap of my coat as I stepped off the wooden pier alongside the other teachers, carrying our luggage, lesson plans, and an unnamable flutter in our hearts.

This island was smaller than I’d imagined. No vehicles, no horns—only the sound of waves breaking and children’s laughter echoing. Tin-roofed houses peeked out behind rows of coconut palms, bathed in the soft, golden glow of dusk.

An elderly teacher with silver hair and kind eyes greeted us:

— “Welcome, everyone! We’re so glad you’ve arrived.”

I smiled and nodded.

— “Thank you, ma’am.”

— “Right this way, please. I’ll show you your rooms.”

That first night passed in peaceful quiet. I’d been assigned to a tiny dorm room behind the school with space for two. The air smelled of old wood and salt, and outside my window, the sea’s gentle rhythm lulled me to sleep under a canopy of stars.

— “Here it is.”

I jumped at the sudden voice, then turned around.

— “Hello, I’m Grande.”

I replied, “Hello, I’m Leyla.”

Grande smiled warmly.

— “We’re roommates. We’ll help each other out, right?”

— “Of course.”

I stepped over to lift her luggage and arrange our belongings, and in those quiet moments, we got to know each other and chatted easily into the night.

The next morning, all the volunteer teachers gathered in an open yard near the island’s administrative center. A man in charge stood before us, his voice firm:

— “We will go over emergency procedures, living zones, and how to stay safe while you’re here.”

I stood quietly in line, notebook in hand, jotting everything down. The air felt tense—both foreign and solemn. But on this island, once torn by conflict, no one could afford to relax.

— “You’ll take a guided tour of the terrain. Please remember: if you see any suspicious signs—old mines, unknown individuals, or emergency signals—return immediately to the central station.”

Among the educators, my gaze drifted to the outskirts of the yard, where several figures in light-blue uniforms stood. They were the United Nations peacekeepers—blue helmets, neat combat fatigues, their faces calm to the point of coldness.

I stole a glance… then froze.

One of them—tall, broad-shouldered—stood slightly apart. The morning sun struck his shoulder, obscuring his face. But… that posture, that stillness…

So familiar.

So unmistakably Mathis.

I blinked hard as my heart slowed to a crawl. It couldn’t be him, here at the end of the map, among strangers on a remote island!

I swallowed.

Grande nudged my shoulder:

— “Hey, Leyla, what are you staring at?”

I fumbled, turning away:

— “Nothing. Just… focusing on the brief.”

Grande teased with a smirk:

— “Come on, don’t stare. But if you like peacekeepers, there are plenty of handsome ones here!”

I scolded gently:

— “Stop it. Pay attention, please!”

Grande laughed:

— “Alright, alright.”

The orientation concluded swiftly, and we were split into smaller groups for the site visit. Grande and I were in the second group, standing near the gate. As I adjusted my bag strap, a deep, familiar voice spoke from behind:

— “Excuse me, your group is taking the western route, right?”

I froze, my feet seeming glued to the ground. Instinctively, I took a step back—and collided into the body behind me.

It was him.

Mathis.

I gasped, and before I could say a word, his arm reached out to steady me by the shoulder.

A firm, fitting embrace. Not tight, but enough to keep me from falling— as if he feared I might vanish again.

— “Careful now,” he said, his low voice just like before—only closer. Closer than ever.

I didn’t dare look up.

My breath came in ragged gasps.

My body froze in that moment, each beat of my heart so loud it felt like pain.