CHAPTER 8 — A DAY I DIDN’T PLAN FOR
1406 Words
Two months had passed since I returned to school, and I could feel myself slowly growing into a young woman. The changes were subtle—quiet moments of reflection, unfamiliar emotions, a strange awareness of myself that felt both new and uncomfortable. My eighteenth birthday was only two months away, but I wasn’t thinking about celebrations or milestones. Birthdays had never been anything special to me; they were simply dates on a calendar.
That morning, Shalewa was sitting cross-legged on my bed, chatting about something I wasn’t really hearing. Her voice faded in and out, like background noise, until my phone started vibrating. I glanced at the screen and saw Mom calling. I instinctively straightened myself and answered.
My parents’ voices came through the speaker in their usual cheerful tone, wishing me a happy birthday. I simply responded with a quiet “yes” and “thank you,” the same way I always did. But as they spoke, I noticed the way Shalewa’s face changed. At first it was confusion, then shock, and finally something close to disbelief. Her eyes widened, her mouth slightly open, and she kept looking at me like she had just discovered something impossible.
When the call ended, I dropped the phone on my bed, and the room fell silent.
“April… today is your birthday?” she asked slowly, like she needed confirmation in case she misunderstood.
“Yes,” I said.
Her reaction was so dramatic it almost startled me. “Oh my God! April! Why didn’t you tell me?!” She was nearly shouting, hands in the air, acting more excited than I felt.
“I don’t celebrate birthdays,” I said softly, almost rehearsed. It was the response I always gave anyone who asked.
Shalewa stared at me for a long second, then stood up without saying another word. She just walked out of the room. I didn’t know if she was upset, disappointed, or planning something. With Shalewa, silence always meant something.
I sat quietly, trying to process the unexpected emotional shift in the atmosphere. Birthdays were never a big deal in my life; I didn’t know how to explain that to people. I didn’t know how to explain why. I had never learned how to feel excited simply because a date changed.
After about twenty minutes, the door swung open. Shalewa returned—arms full. Full wasn’t even the word. She came in carrying bags, cake boxes, pastries, wrapped gifts, and drinks. She almost dropped everything at the door.
“Happy birthday, April!” she screamed before I could even ask what was going on.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
“What is all this?” I asked quietly.
“Everything you didn’t ask for,” she said proudly. “Because you deserve it.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. She started opening cake boxes and lining up the drinks on my desk as if she had planned this birthday surprise for weeks. She moved around the room with so much happiness, you would think it was her birthday.
“Is there anywhere special you want to visit today?” she asked, adjusting her hair while checking herself in my mirror.
“No,” I said automatically.
She laughed. “Of course you’ll say that. Let me guess—you don’t celebrate birthdays?”
I nodded, and she rolled her eyes playfully.
“Well, I celebrate them. So today, you’re coming with me.”
We eventually ended up at the cinema, even though I didn’t choose the place. Shalewa had practically dragged me out of the house, insisting she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She talked the entire ride there—telling jokes, sharing gossip, complaining about school—while I listened quietly.
Inside the cinema, she kept trying to take pictures of me, but I turned away or looked down each time. I had never liked cameras. I didn’t know how to pose. I didn’t see the point of capturing moments I couldn’t emotionally understand.
But Shalewa was sneaky.
At some point, when I looked away to check something on my phone, she took a picture of me without warning. I didn’t bother reacting. Later, she showed me the picture—me sitting with neutral expression, face turned slightly to the side, soft light touching my features.
It was… nice.
Nice in a way I didn’t know how to express, so I kept silent. She sent it to my phone and then immediately posted it across all her social media with long captions and emojis. People started commenting and reacting, but I didn’t pay attention.
After the movie, we headed outside to walk back to get a bus. The evening breeze was cool, and for once I felt a strange sense of calm. Maybe it was the outing. Maybe it was Shalewa’s relentless energy rubbing off on me. I didn’t know.
Then it happened.
We bumped into two young men coming out of the cinema. Literally bumped—shoulders touching unexpectedly. I stepped back slightly, and one of them stopped and looked at me like the world around him paused.
He was tall. Neatly dressed. Calm aura. And his eyes… they held mine in a way that felt unsettling yet familiar.
It was like something clicked. Or shifted. Or awakened.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. No words. No explanation. Just a strange, quiet recognition that made my chest tighten a little.
He smiled—not a loud, wide smile like Shalewa’s, but a gentle one that looked effortless. He lifted his hand and waved at me.
I didn’t wave back.
I didn’t react at all.
Before I could even process the moment, Shalewa waved enthusiastically at him. The boy beside him apologized for bumping into me, and I nodded slightly but said nothing.
As they walked away, the mysterious one looked back. Once. Twice. His gaze lingered on me like he was trying to remember something he had forgotten.
When he disappeared into the crowd, Shalewa turned to me dramatically.
“APRIL! Did you see that guy? My God! He is so fine!”
I gave a small shrug. “He’s not that handsome.”
She gasped. “Stop lying! He was waving at you. He couldn’t stop looking at you. April, I think he likes you.”
I ignored her as we walked home. She kept talking, analyzing the scene like she was solving a mystery, but I kept drifting in and out of the conversation.
Later that night, when I got home and finally lay on my bed, something strange happened.
My mind went back to the guy.
To the way he looked at me.
To the calm expression on his face.
To the way my chest tightened even though I didn’t understand why.
I stared at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over again, confused by my own reaction.
I didn’t know him. I didn’t even know his name.
Do I… like Mr. No Name?
The thought startled me, and I immediately tried to push it away. Feelings weren’t something I handled well. I didn’t know how to understand them, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to start now.
But the more I tried to ignore it, the more the thought stayed.
The more his face appeared in my mind.
The more I questioned myself.
Was it interest?
Curiosity?
Or just the shock of an unexpected moment?
I didn’t have an answer.
But something had changed—quietly, subtly, deeply. A shift I wasn’t prepared for.
And whether I wanted it or not, Mr. No Name had found a place in my thoughts.
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- Writer
