Chapter 3

Miley woke up to pale morning light spilling across her bedroom floor.

The house was quiet. Not the heavy kind of quiet-just normal. The kind that came with early mornings and sleepy streets.

She sat up slowly, brushing hair out of her face. The room still smelled faintly like cardboard and fresh paint. Her clothes from the night before lay folded on the chair.

She chose a simple outfit: a soft sweater, a short skirt she liked but rarely wore, tights underneath. She hesitated for a second in front of the mirror, then shrugged.

New school. New start.

Downstairs, breakfast was already on the table.

Her mom smiled, green eyes soft and warm, and her father’s hands flexed over the table, the faint scar on his knuckle catching the light.

Her mother asked if she was nervous.

Her father reminded her not to forget her bag.

Miley nodded, answering when needed, quiet like always.

Everything felt… ordinary.

The school office smelled like paper and old coffee.

The secretary handed her a printed timetable with a polite smile. “You’re in Class 10-B.”

Miley thanked her and followed the directions down the hall, heart beating faster with every step.

When she entered the classroom, the teacher looked up, hair neatly pinned, glasses reflecting the morning light. “Ah, you must be the new student.”

Every face turned toward her.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

She swallowed. “I’m Miley,” she said softly. “I’m sixteen.”

That was all.

A few smiles. A few whispers.

“Take the empty seat next to Anya,” the teacher said.

The girl beside the window beamed at her the moment she sat down.

“Hi! I’m Anya,” the girl beside the window said immediately, her blonde bob bouncing as she leaned forward, bright blue eyes sparkling. “You’re really quiet. I like that.”

Miley blinked, then smiled a little.

Anya talked enough for both of them.

By the second class, Miley knew about the best canteen food, the strictest teachers, and-most importantly-the basketball match happening that afternoon.

“It’s a big deal,” Anya whispered excitedly.
“Everyone’s coming. Felix is playing.”

Miley didn’t react…. tried not to .

“He’s, like, the most popular boy in school,” Anya continued. “And really good-looking. Everyone likes him.”

The match drew half the school to the court.

Miley sat on the bleachers beside Anya, watching more out of curiosity than interest.

That’s when she saw him.

Felix moved like he owned the court-tall and athletic, blonde hair falling lightly over his forehead, bright blue eyes scanning every move with calm confidence. Each step was smooth, effortless, drawing attention without him trying. The crowd reacted to every dribble, every pass, but he didn’t notice them-not really. He didn’t notice her.

He never once looked her way.

He didn’t notice her.

Didn’t recognize her.

Didn’t remember her-because there was nothing to remember …….she thought.

And yet, something about watching him made her chest feel strangely tight.

She looked away.

By the time she walked home later, the sky was already turning orange.

The house greeted her the same way it had that morning-still, quiet, ordinary.

That night, as she lay in bed, Miley thought about school. About Anya. About the game.

Nothing felt wrong.

And that, somehow, made it feel even stranger.
_______________________________________

Chapter ended