Online. In the Network of Hearts

Autumn had arrived quietly. Not with heavy rain or sudden cold — but softly, like background music in an anime scene before an important encounter. The air had grown cooler, the sky deeper, and the city felt more honest. Poltava went about its usual rhythm. Minibuses creaked on corners, school kids filmed TikToks near the Kyiv Mall, and the windows of the apartment blocks glowed with warm light. In his ninth-floor room sat Mark. The lights were off. Only the glow of his laptop and the fairy lights above his desk lit the space. On the wall — a few anime posters, unfinished sketches, headphones hanging on a hook. Lo-fi played in his headphones. Calm beats that always helped him think. Mark stared out the window. Below, kids played with a ball. Someone walked their dog. Everything seemed ordinary. But inside, he felt as if something was about to change. His phone vibrated. 22:17. An unknown number. Mark didn’t like unknown numbers. Usually, they were either spam or someone had made a mistake. He opened the message. Alice: Hi. Did you forget your physics notebook today? Mark froze. His heart jumped like a character who suddenly got a power-up. Mark: Yes… Who is this? The message didn’t appear immediately. Those few seconds of waiting felt longer than an algebra test. Alice: I sit behind you. Third desk by the window. Mark smiled slightly. Mark: Half the class sits by the window. Alice: Dark bob hair. Black hoodie. Drawing in the notebook instead of listening. Then he remembered. Her. The girl who always looked away from the board, into her notebook. The one whose eyes had more than just “another lesson.” The one he had tried to sketch a few times from memory. Mark: Oh… you. Alice: Yep. Mark: Hi. Alice: Hi :) A small smiley. Just a tiny detail, but it warmed something inside. Mark: Thanks for messaging me. Alice: I opened your notebook to check the name. And I saw the drawing. His heart skipped a beat. Mark: Which one? Alice: The girl with headphones. Sitting by the window. Pause. Alice: Does she look like me? Mark didn’t reply immediately. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Mark: Maybe. Alice: I like her. At that moment, a distant car honked outside the window, as if the world confirmed: this was the beginning. The next morning, school looked as usual. Loud. Busy. Slightly chaotic. Mark entered the classroom earlier than usual. She was already there. Alice sat by the window, leaning over her notebook. The sunlight hit her hair, making it seem lighter. He took his seat. A few seconds of silence. Alice: Hi. Mark: Hi. Alice: Do you usually come early? Mark: No. Alice: Me neither. An awkward but warm pause. Alice: Here’s your notebook. Mark: Thanks. Their fingers touched briefly. They quickly pulled back, as if it was too personal. Alice: You really draw well. Mark: It’s just a hobby. Alice: Then why don’t you show anyone? Mark: Then I’d have to explain. Alice: Explain what? Mark: Why it matters to me. Alice looked at him more attentively than anyone ever had. Alice: You don’t have to explain to me. In that simple phrase was more trust than in a hundred “how are you” messages. After class, they happened to leave together. The autumn wind swirled the leaves around them like a slow-motion scene from a movie. Alice: You listen to lo-fi, right? Mark looked surprised. Mark: How do you know? Alice: You always seem a bit disconnected from the noise. Like you live in your own soundtrack. Mark: Maybe. Alice: Sometimes I want that too. Mark: Why don’t you do it? Alice: Then I’d have to hear my thoughts. Mark: What’s scary about them? Alice: They’re too honest. A traffic light turned red. They stopped. Cars passed by. The city lived its life. Alice: Mark… Mark: Yes? Alice: Are you afraid of falling in love? He didn’t expect the question. Mark: I don’t know. Alice: I am. Mark: Why? Alice: Because then you become vulnerable. Like a character without armor. Mark: But it’s more interesting that way. Alice smiled. Alice: You look at me like you’ve already started a new season. Mark: And you talk like you know the script. The traffic light turned green. They crossed the street together. And both felt it — something had begun.