what if
The classroom was loud with the usual morning chatter. Books were open on desks, chairs were being dragged, and two girls sat near the window, talking casually while waiting for the teacher to arrive. “So… did you finish the assignment? Joselin asked, flipping through her notebook. “Barely,” Laura laughed. “I was busy thinking about other things.” She sighed lightly and rested her chin on her hand. “Honestly, I just want this class to end quickly today.” “Same,” Joselin said, glancing around the classroom. After a short silence, Joselin said quietly, “Have you ever thought… what if we fall in love with the same person?” They both fell quiet for a moment, listening to the low hum of the classroom before the next lesson began. Just then, the classroom door opened and the French teacher walked in — a middle-aged man with a calm, confident smile. Mr Mathieu placed his books on the table and looked at the class. “Bonjour, class… please sit down, sit down,” he said warmly. “Aujourd’hui, we will continue with our lesson. I hope vous avez fait your homework… oui?” The students quickly settled into their seats as he opened his notebook. “Now, attention, everyone. Today is simple… but important, très important.” The French teacher walked slowly between the rows of desks, hands behind his back as he spoke. “Maintenant, open your books to page vingt-trois… twenty-three,” he said, his tone soft but clear. “French is not only about grammar… non, it is about feeling, about expression.” The girls near the window exchanged a small look, trying to suppress their smile as he continued talking in a mix of English and French. “Repeat after me… ’Je suis heureux’ — I am happy,” he said, gesturing slightly with his hand. “Say it with confidence, oui, with feeling.” The class murmured the words together, some students saying it loudly, others mumbling quietly. Mr Mathieu nodded approvingly. “Très bien… very good. But louder next time. French is not a shy language, non.” As he turned toward the board to write the lesson, the classroom grew quieter, except for the scratching sound of chalk and the soft whispering of students settling into their work. The class slowly settled into the quiet rhythm of writing and whispering. The sound of pages turning mixed with the soft tapping of pens against desks. Laura kept glancing at her notebook, but her mind was somewhere else. Joselin noticed and nudged her lightly under the desk. “Hey,” Laura whispered, “you’re not even writing properly. Thinking about my question?” Joselin smiled faintly but didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked toward the front of the class where Mr. Mathieu was still writing on the board. After a moment, she whispered back, “Maybe… I think if that ever happened, we would just talk honestly. No secrets.” Laura raised an eyebrow. “You’re too soft, you know that?” she teased quietly. Laura just laughed softly, but her eyes kept drifting toward the front of the classroom as the lesson continued, the quiet “what if” still lingering between them like an unfinished thought. The lesson continued for a few more minutes, the soft scratch of chalk filling the classroom. Then, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Mr. Mathieu paused. “Entrez… come in.”
The door opened slowly, and a new student stepped inside. He looked slightly nervous, holding a backpack strap tightly over his broad shoulder. He was neatly dressed — a simple shirt that fit well, looking tidy and comfortable rather than flashy. He had a calm, approachable look, with neat hair and a polite, quiet confidence about him.
The class grew a little quieter, curious eyes turning toward him.
“Ah, oui… you must be the new student,” Mr. Mathieu said with a warm smile. “Class, this is Joshua. He has just moved to town… so please be kind, oui?”
Joshua gave a small polite nod. “Hello… I mean, bonjour,” he said softly, his voice calm but slightly unsure. “I just moved here last week.”
“Très bien,” the teacher said. “You can sit… hmm… near the window, third row.” As Joshua walked down the aisle, both girls quietly watched him. Joselin raised her eyebrows slightly, as if silently saying interesting. Laura just gave a small, thoughtful smile, quickly looking back at her notebook as if she hadn’t been watching.
Joshua walked down the aisle between the desks while some students whispered quietly. Laura and Joselin watched curiously, exchanging a quick glance, noticing the new boy’s quiet, composed presence as he walked past them.
He gave a small polite smile before sitting down, taking out his notebook and trying to adjust to the new classroom, the new town, and all the unfamiliar faces around him.
As Joshua walked down the aisle toward the third row, both Laura and Joselin pretended to look at their notebooks — but their eyes lifted at the exact same moment when he passed by. For a second — just a second — Joshua glanced toward the window side.
And both girls noticed.
Joselin slowly turned her head toward Laura.
Laura slowly turned toward Joselin.
Neither of them said it.
But the question from earlier — What if we fall in love with the same person? — suddenly didn’t feel like a random thought anymore.
“Très bien, class,” Mr. Mathieu said after the final exercise. He closed his notebook with a soft thud. “That is all for today. Do not forget your homework. Practice the sentences… and feel them.”
The bell rang almost immediately after he finished speaking.
Chairs scraped against the floor as students began packing their bags. Conversations rose again, louder this time.
Joshua gathered his books quietly, still looking a little unsure in the middle of the busy classroom.
Laura zipped her bag slowly, pretending to focus on her things.
Joselin, however, wasn’t pretending. She glanced toward the third row again.
“Well,” she said casually, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “that was… interesting.”
Laura knew exactly what she meant.
Near the door, Joshua hesitated for a brief second, as if unsure which way to go. Then he stepped out into the hallway, blending into the stream of students.
Laura and Joselin stood up at the same time.
Neither of them mentioned his name.
But the question from earlier still lingered between them — quieter now, but heavier.
What if?
