I hate morning classes. By nature, I'm lazy. One of my favorite things in the world is sleep—though lately, that same love for sleep has been making me gain weight.
It's 8 a.m. I'm on my way to college. Class starts at 9, but getting there takes a while.
I reach campus at 8:35. My classroom is on the second floor. As much as I hate waking up early, I do enjoy mornings—the cool air, the empty roads, birds chirping like they actually have something important to say.
"Yo!"
The first thing I see when I walk into class is Ryan's smirking face.
"You're early today," he says, eyebrows raised. Ryan's usual routine is strolling in five minutes before class—sometimes five minutes after.
"What? I can't be early once in a while?"
"I didn't say that."
I sigh and drop into the seat beside him. Class won't start for another twenty minutes. I pull out my phone. A couple of notifications—mostly junk. But one message catches my eye.
Claire.
"Gonna meet up with Lily again today!"
She really likes talking about this Lily girl. I don't know if it's just Claire being extra chatty, but for someone I've never met, Lily's name shows up a lot. It's starting to pique my interest.
"Hey, wanna bunk again?" Ryan asks.
I glance at the door. "Let's see who walks in first."
---
3:00 PM
The sun blazes with far too much enthusiasm. The city of Brighton simmers under its pale glare. Heat clings to the buildings like a wool blanket—thick, heavy, unmoving. Shadows shimmer on the cracked pavement as the afternoon settles in.
There's no slow hour in Brighton. Even at 3 p.m., when other cities might catch their breath, this one just keeps pushing—sweaty, noisy, alive.
In one of its quieter corners, a small café hums with the low murmur of conversation and clinking cups. Inside, Claire sits by the window, sipping her coffee and watching the world pass by.
Brighton may be overwhelming, but it has its beauty. Sunlight pours through the window, catching the edges of Claire's black hair where it falls in soft waves around her face. Her gaze is distant—lost in thought, maybe. Or maybe just quietly observing everything.
Her hair, cut just above the shoulders, frames her fair-skinned face with elegant precision. Sharp eyes. Minimal makeup. Her beauty isn't loud—it lingers. She wears a white V-neck sweater tucked into a black wrap skirt, the twin buckles on her hip like stylish punctuation marks. Clean. Intentional.
A porcelain cup rests in her hands. Steam rises in soft spirals. She sips slowly, like the act of drinking coffee is its own kind of meditation.
The café door opens with a gentle jingle—tiny bells above the frame.
Claire looks up, and a smile spreads across her face.
She's here.
Lily steps inside with a quiet, radiant presence. Her long, wavy chestnut hair catches the sunlight, glinting with hints of auburn. Her almond-shaped eyes scan the room, full of curiosity and quiet warmth. That smile? It lights up her whole face.
She wears a lavender sweater that gives her a playful charm, paired with a dark skirt that grounds the look. The whole thing feels cozy but composed—like her.
"Lily! Over here!" Claire waves.
Lily smiles and walks over, taking the seat across from her.
"You started without me."
Claire grins. "You were taking too long. I had to order something before I turned to dust."
---
Later, back at college…
Last period.
Honestly, it's exhausting doing classes back-to-back from morning until now. Each session is an hour and a half long. We get a twenty-minute break midway, but that's barely enough to breathe. The rest of it? Mental drain.
"Man, I'm so tired," Ryan groans. I don't even need to respond—I feel it too.
"Let's just leave. I don't want to sit through another class," he mutters.
"This is the last one," I say. "I'm not skipping it."
Ryan slumps over his desk in defeat.
Then something hits the back of my head.
I turn around. A crumpled paper ball lies on the floor. I don't need to guess. I already know who it is.
Heath.
He's sitting at the back, staring straight at me, smiling like a guy who thinks he's clever. Black hair, brown eyes, maybe 160 cm tall—shorter than me. He's got a reputation. People in class call him a delinquent. His smirk isn't friendly. It never is.
There's a reason for that.
Heath used to chase after my ex. She didn't give him the time of day. She chose me instead. He didn't handle it well. After the rejection, he pestered her for a while before eventually backing off. But the bitterness stuck.
Even now, he throws shade at me whenever he can. I don't care. All he does is taunt. It's empty. I treat him like he doesn't exist.
Class begins, but I can't focus. My gaze drifts to the window.
Thinking about Heath just brings her to mind.
I wonder if she's doing okay. We didn't end on the best terms. No real closure. No last words.
I just hope... she finds happiness.
Wherever she is...