Kairos

School trip

The first day of school after the break was tense, but in a silence only she could feel. While everyone in the class was rushing through their usual social routines, she was carefully observing him. His gaze, for some unknown reason, avoided hers. He was cautious, almost fearful – as if afraid to look at her directly. And her? She was aware of every movement, every moment of his uncertainty, and it stirred both restlessness and anticipation within her.

The day progressed, and the class prepared for a field trip. Everyone was excited; laughter, jokes, and voices filled the space, but she was in her own world. While riding the bus, conversations passed around her, and only then did she hear him.

He was speaking – quietly, but clearly enough – about the “perfect girl.” He talked about one girl with black hair and another with blonde, and described in detail the person whose name he dared not mention. His words were careful, but clear enough for her to understand everything. It was his “dream girl” tailored perfectly – and every detail, every nuance of his description, matched her – exactly her. She absorbed it all slowly, unable to believe what she was hearing.

His female friends laughed, rolling their eyes, and told him that his “type of girl clearly doesn’t care about hygiene.” His expression immediately changed – dejected, as if it would have been better to remain silent. And her? She turned her head toward them, giving signs of life, not to argue, but to show that she had heard. And they were ready – “Shhh, she heard you.” He hadn’t expected her to hear them. Most people on the bus were asleep.

At that moment, the world seemed to stop. The unease between them was louder than any laughter or glance. She knew he was insecure, that he didn’t know how to express what he felt. And he realized that she knew, and it paralyzed him to the bone. He felt as if she could see his soul, and it terrified him.

On the bus, she sat feeling a mixture of sadness and unexpected satisfaction. She knew he was thinking about her, even if the way he spoke was vague and ambiguous. That moment – that confirmation of his attention – was strong enough to make her day special, even amidst the crowd, the noise, and laughter. And yet, she didn’t let herself get carried away…

Returning from the trip, she overthought everything. Why does he describe me but doesn’t want to give me a look? Just a look. Was I too harsh? Maybe he misunderstood… Or maybe I’m just too sensitive.

The next day at school after the trip.

She stood in the middle of the hallway, her heart pounding wildly, her hands trembling slightly. She tried to ignore him. She managed to ignore him for almost six periods – “It was a real inner battle. I just wanted to respond in kind.” And then he, tense, almost angry and sad yet flushed because she wasn’t paying attention to him in front of others, began to speak differently about her – “She’s crazy, surely, not normal… sick.” And something else she couldn’t quite understand. Every glance of his, every twitch of his body, seemed at once frightening and confusing, contradictory and attractive.

Theia didn’t know what to think… My heart is pounding so fast. It hurts. Aren’t the harsh words behind us? What’s happening? Why is he saying this? Because of my ignoring him? I don’t believe it; he really doesn’t know what he wants. I can’t read his mind anymore; I have to talk to him. Probably someone filled his head with nonsense…

THERE HE IS. I’ll hurry before he leaves. Now or never.

“I have to… I have to stop him,” she thought, breathing shallowly and gathering all the courage she had hidden for years. She took a few steps toward him while her friends watched from afar, observing every step she took near him. It was as if they were protecting him from her… Because she was a danger to them, a thief of their fame.

“Just you and me… just you and me, we need to talk and end this silence… it really hurts…” she repeated to herself, her voice quiet but determined. “We need to talk… we need to clarify everything.”

When she reached him, she touched his shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes. “C…c…can I talk to you?” His eyes – confused, insecure, almost frightened – said everything he couldn’t voice. “I’m in a hurry…” he said awkwardly, and she could feel his unease transferring to her, making the moment even heavier.

She stood there, unsure, her heart in her throat. “Did I misinterpret everything?” she quietly asked herself, her body tensing from embarrassment and tension. She felt her eyes grow wet, almost bringing tears, but she held them back, pressing her fists to her sides to compose herself.

For a few minutes, they stared at each other, not knowing what to do next. They had an audience – his female friends, who only lacked popcorn in their hands. Maybe it would have been worse if he wanted to talk…

She turned and walked away, trying to hide her embarrassment in front of everyone. She stood alone for a while, feeling her body tremble, her thoughts spinning in circles. When she finally got home, the first thing she did was check her phone. And she saw, really saw the message. She pressed the notification, and at the end of the message, there was nothing. As if it had been deleted at that very moment… Is this possible?

Deleted message… Wonderful… just wonderful.

Possibly from him… them… someone else… A ghost?

A ghost would at least leave a trace… maybe not…

I’m embarrassed to go to school. Who knows how he’ll look at me now? Probably won’t even… Drama ahead.

For three days, Theia didn’t go to school. With every step, she carefully observed him. His gaze, for some unknown reason, avoided hers. He was cautious, almost fearful – as if afraid to look at her directly. And she? She was aware of every movement, every moment of his uncertainty, and it stirred both restlessness and anticipation within her.

The day progressed, and the class prepared for another outing. Everyone was excited; laughter, jokes, and voices filled the space, but she was in her own world. While riding the bus, conversations passed around her, and only then did she hear him. He was speaking – quietly, but clearly enough – about the “perfect girl.” He talked about one girl with black hair and another with blonde, and described in detail the person whose name he dared not mention. His words were careful, but clear enough for her to understand everything. It was his “dream girl” – the one he secretly admired, the one he couldn’t openly talk about. And once again, it matched her perfectly.