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The first thing Andrew remembered about Grace was that she had been seated just one desk away when . The teacher had asked her to take the empty seat beside him, and though Grace had nodded politely, she had carried herself with a certain hesitance, as though being noticed was the last thing she wanted.
It had been only minutes into the lesson when Andrew noticed her flipping through the blank pages of her notebook. She wasn’t writing, only glancing up at the board, then down again, clearly struggling to catch up. Her pen hovered uselessly in her hand.
Without thinking too much about it, Andrew slid his notebook slightly toward her desk. “Hey,” he whispered, tapping lightly on the margin. “Here. If you want, you can copy the notes from earlier.”
Grace looked at him, surprised. For a moment, her guarded expression faltered. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not the best note-taker, but they’re better than nothing.”
She hesitated, then gave the faintest of smiles. “Thank you.”
That was their first exchange. A small moment. Just a few words. But it stayed with Andrew.
Days later, Andrew spotted her again—this time in the courtyard under the neem tree, sitting with a notebook open in her lap. He could tell she wasn’t writing; her pen rested loosely in her fingers while her eyes lingered on the page, lost somewhere else.
Taking a breath, Andrew walked over.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked.
Grace blinked, her guarded look flickering again. Then she nodded. “Go ahead.”
Andrew sat beside her, leaving space. “So… you always sit here?”
“Not always,” she said softly. “It’s quiet.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Andrew replied, leaning back. “Better than the cafeteria. Half the time it feels like a sports commentary show in there.”
The corners of Grace’s lips lifted—just slightly, but it was there. “They are loud.”
Andrew grinned, relieved. “See? You get it. So… still catching up on notes?” He gestured to the notebook.
Grace instinctively closed it. “Sometimes. It helps me focus.”
Her tone was careful, but not dismissive. Andrew noticed the way her fingers lingered on the cover, almost protective. She didn’t want anyone reading what was inside. He decided not to pry.
“That’s fair,” he said. “I usually just use music to get through the boring parts. Headphones in, world out.”
Her gaze flicked toward him, softer now. “Books do that for me. Not music. But… the feeling’s the same.”
“Then we’re not so different,” Andrew said lightly.
The silence that followed was strangely comfortable. For the first time, Grace didn’t look like the unreachable girl in class. She looked like someone Andrew could actually talk to.
The bell rang, breaking the moment. Students rushed back inside. From down the hall, a familiar voice called out:
“Andrew! There you are!”
A girl hurried over, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She had an open smile that seemed to brighten the entire hallway.
Sophia.
Andrew’s childhood best friend.
“Skipping lunch without me again?” she teased, hands on her hips.
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Not skipping. Just… delayed.”
Sophia glanced at Grace, then back at him, her grin widening. “Ohhh. So that’s why.”
Grace blinked, caught off guard.
“Grace, right?” Sophia said warmly, extending her hand. “I’ve seen you in class. I’m Sophia. I’ve known Andrew since before he knew how to tie his shoes.”
Andrew groaned. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope.” Sophia grinned.
Grace hesitated, then shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Great. Then you’re officially sitting with us for lunch,” Sophia declared. “No eating alone allowed. That’s my rule.”
Andrew smirked. “She’s bossy. You’ll get used to it.”
Grace’s quiet laugh slipped out before she could stop it.
Lunch was a blur of chatter. Sophia carried most of the conversation, talking about teachers, weekend plans, and a cat that wouldn’t stop following her around. She made Grace laugh more than once, though the sound was soft, as if Grace wasn’t used to it.
Andrew, sitting across from her, noticed the small things others wouldn’t. The way her gaze sometimes dropped mid-laughter. The way her smile faltered once it lingered too long. The way her hand rested on her notebook even as she ate, as though it were her lifeline.
Grace looked normal enough to anyone else. But Andrew could sense it—the weight she carried quietly beneath her calm.
When classes finally ended, Andrew saw Grace by the gate, notebook tucked close to her chest.
“You heading home?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’ll walk with you,” Andrew offered.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he said simply. “But I want to.”
For a moment, she studied him, as though trying to read his intentions. Finally, she gave a small nod.
They walked side by side. The evening breeze swayed the trees, carrying with it the scent of wet soil from a garden nearby.
“You don’t have to talk,” Andrew said after a while. “I’m fine with just walking.”
Grace glanced at him, startled. “Most people expect you to fill the silence.”
“I’m not most people.”
Her lips pressed together. For a brief second, Andrew saw it again—the flicker of loneliness in her eyes, the shadow of something she wasn’t ready to speak of.
“You notice things too much,” she murmured.
“Maybe,” Andrew said. “But only because I want to.”
Grace didn’t respond. Instead, her grip on her notebook tightened. She seemed to be holding back words—things she couldn’t yet share.
When they reached the fork where their paths split, she finally spoke.
“Thanks,” she said softly. “For walking with me. And… for the notes.”
Andrew smiled. “Anytime.”
Grace gave the smallest nod before turning down her street, her figure fading into the evening.
Andrew stood there for a moment longer, his hands in his pockets, replaying her words.
There was a story behind her guarded smile, behind the notebook she carried like a shield. He didn’t know what it was yet—but he wanted to.
And for the first time, he felt that maybe Grace wasn’t as unreachable as she seemed.
- Writer
