Chapter 1
Today was my first day of college, and I should have been excited. A fresh start, a new chapter...the kind people romanticize in movies. But deep down, I knew better.
I woke up early, determined to arrive before the chaos. Maybe this time, I’d make friends. Maybe this time, I wouldn’t feel like an outsider.
But "maybe" had never worked out for me before.
When I stepped onto campus, the courtyard was alive with laughter and chatter...groups of students already bonding, as if they'd known each other forever. And then there was I, alone. Again.
Why does this always happen to me?
I tried not to let it sting. After all, I was used to it.
Let me introduce myself—my name is Emma, and loneliness has been my shadow since middle school. I’ve had friends before, sure, but I was always the backup plan, the forgotten one. The one people invited when they had no one else.
I used to think it was my fault. That maybe I was just... unlikable. But I don't know anymore; I have started finding peace in my own solitude, but deep in my heart, I know I don't want to be alone.
Brushing the thoughts away, I entered my classroom, scanning the room. Every seat was taken except one, and the people were sitting either in group or trio, leaving me alone.
And the only seat that was left was in the last row.
And next to it sat him.
A boy in a black hoodie, head down, completely detached from the world around him. His presence felt... heavy, like he carried something no one else could see.
I hesitated. The air around him felt a little dense. But I had no other choice.
I sat down, gripping my bag. Should I say something? Try to make conversation?
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light.
No reaction at all. Not even a single glance. The silence pressed against my chest, making my skin prickle with embarrassment. Well, that was humiliating.
The teacher walked in, and the class rose to greet her...except him. He stayed slouched, completely unfazed.
I hesitated before leaning toward him. “The teacher’s here,” I whispered as I poked his shoulder.
For the first time, he moved.
As he pushed himself up, I finally got a proper look at him.
He was tall with wheatish-brown skin, messy black hair, like it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks, and a sharp jawline with a dark aura around him. And his eyes were hazel, striking, but darkened with something unreadable.
Then there was a small mole beneath his right eye...which was oddly...charming.
Wait. Did I just call him charming?
No. Absolutely not. Handsome or not, his entire aura screamed, "Stay away." He was cold and distant, like he’d built walls no one was meant to climb.
His gaze flickered toward me, just for a second. My heart jumped. I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on my notebook.
It’s not wrong to admire someone’s face, right?
And if you’re wondering whether I have a crush on him? Absolutely not. Handsome or not, his energy was so negative that it could probably kill a flower.
The first half of the day crawled by. Groups of students laughed, whispered, and bonded. I sat alone in my corner, feeling invisible.
Meanwhile, my hoodie-wearing neighbor either stared out the window or slept through class.
It was better to sit alone than to sit with someone who makes you feel alone like that.
At lunch, I forced myself to be brave, to put myself out there. I found a group of girls, gathered my courage, and sat with them.
They didn't even acknowledge me. It stung. But what else was new?
The rest of the day blurred past in the same isolating haze. By the time I made it back to my apartment—a tiny space my parents’ allowance covered. I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted.
I lived alone with no roommate. The place where no one was waiting for me or excited to meet me. No one with whom I would share about my day except my mother.
There is just me, my thoughts, and the silence.
"It's so boring."
But no matter how hard I tried to shake it, one thought kept returning. Not about my loneliness. Not about my failed attempt at making friends.
But about him. The boy in the black hoodie, my mysterious bench partner.
There was something alluring about him...something I couldn’t name.
"Was he deliberately ignoring me or really sleeping? His eyes were tired, though."
It doesn't even matter.
But whether I liked it or not… I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and those hazy, tired eyes and that small mole under his eye were still flashing in front of my eyes.
