Coded Uncounter 143

Chapter Three: Hidden in the Noise

Mayah Idris

The worst thing about hiding in plain sight is that sometimes you still get seen.

Zayn looked at me today. Not just one of those casual hallway glances—really looked. Like his eyes searched for something my face refused to give.

I panicked.

I dropped my gaze, turned a corner too quickly, and nearly collided with a teacher’s cart.

I heard him laugh—softly, kindly—but I didn’t look back.

Because if I did, he might know.

That I remember the way the raindrops clung to his eyelashes that day.

That I count the words he writes in his poems and try to find the parts that feel like mine.

That “143” wasn’t just a code. It was a piece of me I never meant to give.

Back at home, I opened my journal and began to draft the next message.

Just a short one.

> Some hearts speak in poems.

Others in silence.

Mine speaks in numbers.

143

I didn’t send it.

Not yet.

Because once you start being seen, there’s no undoing it.

And part of me—maybe the most fragile part—wasn’t ready to be known.

But Zayn was looking again today. Not just at the world, but through it. Like he was trying to read the spaces between the words no one else noticed.

And I felt it—the pull.

I closed my journal. Whispered to myself, “Not yet.”

But my heart, traitor that it was, whispered back:

“Soon.”