The Fence Between Us

Episode 14: The first

The morning began like any other. I taught the first class of the day with the younger students—dusty-faced little ones whose eyes sparkled like morning sunlight.

— “Miss, can we hear the princess story again today?”

— “No, tell us the one about the soldier!”

— “But you didn’t finish the magical tree story yesterday!”

I laughed softly, ruffling the hair of the girl sitting closest to me.

— “Let’s study first. Stories will come after, okay?”

The lesson went by quickly, filled with the joyful chaos only children can create. Despite the lack of proper materials, the students' enthusiasm never dimmed. Every time I caught them scribbling or leaning forward with curiosity, I felt something loosen in my chest — like all the worries I brought with me to this island were slowly being washed away by their laughter.

At noon, as the class ended, a little girl named Milly tugged on the hem of my shirt.

— “Miss Leyla, my house is so far, and I’m scared to go alone…”

— “I’ll walk you home,” I said, smiling.

We followed the dirt path that led toward the edge of the island, where a few leaf-roofed huts nestled among trees. Milly talked non-stop — about her family, a kitten she found last week, and her dream of becoming a doctor. I listened, sometimes laughing, sometimes quietly nodding along.

We had just arrived at her home when the first raindrops fell.

— “Oh no! It’s raining!”

— “Quick, get under the roof!”

I rushed Milly into her house, waved a polite greeting to her mother, then turned to head back. But the rain came down harder, suddenly and without warning. I had no choice but to duck under a small awning nearby — a narrow overhang attached to a closed food shack. My shirt was already damp, and I hugged my arms for warmth. The smell of wet soil and salt filled the air. The sound of rain muffled everything else.

I pulled out my phone. No signal.

Elsewhere on the island, Grande was pacing through the schoolyard, growing more anxious by the second. Rain had been falling for almost an hour. All the children were home. But Leyla… still hadn’t returned.

— “Where are you, Leyla?” she murmured to herself.

Without hesitation, Grande dashed out into the rain, calling my name. She ran past the school gates, hair soaked, slippers kicking up water from the muddy road. Near the watch station, she spotted two familiar figures — Mathis and Eliot — walking side by side.

Grande ran straight toward them.

— “Hey! Have you seen Leyla? She went to drop off a student and hasn’t come back!”

Mathis’s brows furrowed.

— “Which way did she go?”

— “Toward the far side of the island — the houses near the coconut grove. I’m worried. The rain’s too heavy and she might be stuck somewhere.”

Eliot glanced around.

— “Let’s split up. I’ll search near the old storage sheds. Grande, you check around the school. Mathis, head to the beachside homes.”

Mathis didn’t say a word. He just nodded and turned, breaking into a brisk jog. Raindrops slid down his jawline as he scanned every yard, every doorway. His steps grew faster, his eyes searching desperately for any sign of Leyla.

I was still huddled under the awning, arms wrapped around myself, my back pressed to the wooden wall behind me. My hair clung to my face. My shoes were soaked. I hadn’t even realized how cold I was until I started to shiver.

Then, through the rainfall, I heard it.

— “Leyla!”

My name, loud and clear.

I looked up, startled.

Footsteps splashed through puddles, growing closer.

Then I saw him — Mathis, running toward me with urgency written all over his face.

— “Mathis?” I whispered, surprised.

He stopped a few feet away, rain dripping from his sleeves. His eyes scanned me, as if to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

— “Are you alright?”

— “I’m… I’m fine. Just waiting for the rain to stop.”

I looked down, embarrassed. I wasn’t sure if I was more flustered from the rain or from the fact that it was him standing there, looking at me like that.

Mathis took a step closer, then without a word, shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

— “You’re soaked. Didn’t you have your phone?”

— “No signal…”

— “Grande was really worried. She’s been running all over looking for you.”

I bit my lip. Guilt bloomed in my chest.

— “I’m sorry. I didn’t think the rain would be this bad…”

Mathis said nothing at first. He just looked at me — really looked.

Then, his voice softened.

— “I thought you were in danger."

My breath caught in my throat.

— “What do you mean?”

He shook his head slowly, not answering. But his eyes — dark, steady — said more than words ever could.

— “Come on. Let’s go.”

I nodded, pulling his jacket tighter around me.

We walked side by side down the slick dirt road. Puddles shimmered under the cloudy sky, and raindrops still fell in gentle waves. But my heart… it was pounding again.

Not from the cold.

Not from fear.

But from the sound of his footsteps beside mine — steady, close, and quietly comforting, for a moment, I wished the rain wouldn’t end so soon.

The rain had eased, leaving only a few light droplets clinging to our hair and clothes. The path back to the station wasn’t long, but it was scattered with gravel and slippery after the downpour. The dim glow of Mathis’ flashlight shimmered across the wet ground, glistening softly.

Suddenly, Mathis said quietly,

— “This path is dangerous. Give me your hand.”

I turned to him, pausing slightly.

— “It’s alright. I can walk on my own.”

Mathis stopped completely and turned toward me. His eyes weren’t stern, nor were they too gentle — just steady, sincere, and firm.

— “Leyla.”

He spoke only my name, softly. Then, without waiting for me to reach out, he took my hand himself.

His palm was warm. Large and steady, it enveloped my cold, trembling fingers — still damp from the rain.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t pull away. I simply let him guide me, step by step. We walked over slick earth, past a fallen tree, through shallow puddles… Until we were nearly back to the compound when I suddenly realized — he was still holding my hand. Since when? I wasn’t sure. Only that it was still there… and it felt unwavering.