This was how it began—one-sided feelings, quiet admiration, and the smallest hopes hidden behind nervous glances.
Every break time, Oak found himself watching her. Not in a strange or intrusive way, but like someone quietly drawn to something beautiful without understanding why.
Her name was Hsu. Fourteen. Two years younger than him.
She wasn't just pretty—she was captivating.
Her long, dark hair fell gently over her shoulders, catching the light like strands of silk. Her skin was fair, her eyes soft but deep, as though they held secret thoughts she never said aloud. Even her smallest movements—tucking her hair behind her ear, chewing her pen cap, glancing out the window—had a quiet grace that Oak couldn't ignore.
He didn't know how to talk to her.
But he wanted to.
So he started small.
During break time, he stayed nearby. Pretending to read, pretending not to care. Sometimes he smiled when she looked his way. At first, she didn't smile back. But she didn't turn away either.
Then, one afternoon, something shifted.
As Oak stood by the water dispenser, fumbling with his bottle, Hsu walked over. She was alone. No friends. Just her and the quiet sound of footsteps on tile.
She stood beside him.
He looked at her. She looked at him.
And then she said, "You come here every day, right?"
Oak blinked. Was she really talking to him?
"Yeah," he said, trying to sound normal. "I just started last month."
Hsu nodded, gave a small smile. "You're quiet."
Oak gave a small laugh. "I guess I'm just shy."
"Me too," she said, glancing away but still smiling.
That was it. Just a few words. But it was enough.
From that day on, break times were no longer silent. They talked—sometimes about school, sometimes about nothing important. And slowly, what started as stolen glances and soft smiles became something real.
They became friends.
And for Oak, that was everything.