The weekend went by in a blur and it was monday again another morning for school.
The morning began like any other but today it was the 93rd of Hikari remaining time. I walked through the school gates with my head down, my vision a blur from the lenses I refused to remove. The hallway buzzed with tired students and half-hearted greetings, none of which were meant for me. That was how I preferred it.
As always, I took my seat by the window. I didn't look around. I didn't need to.
When Hikari walked into the classroom, I felt it before I heard her voice. A small shift in the air. Lighter. Louder. As if the room had tilted toward her.
"Good morning!" she chirped, dropping into her seat beside me. I didn't reply. Not even a glance.
Class began. I kept my head down, listening closely instead of watching the board, writing my notes with mechanical precision. I didn't let myself look at her — not even by accident. Not again.
I had seen the number above her head. I couldn't unsee it.
When lunch came, I expected her to leave with the group of girls she usually talked to. She didn't.
Instead, she stayed seated. Right beside me.
I heard the sound of bags rustling. Then, something landed softly on my desk.
I glanced sideways.
It was a bento box.
"Don't worry," she said casually, opening her own. "I made extra. Thought I'd share."
I didn't move.
"I'm not trying to poison you, you know."
Still, I said nothing.
She popped a piece of egg roll into her mouth. "Suit yourself. More for me."
A few moments passed.
Then, without a word, she slid a small rice ball toward me.
I stared at it.
It sat there, innocent and warm, like it belonged on someone else's desk — someone with friends, someone with a normal life.
I picked it up slowly. Took a bite.
She didn't cheer. Didn't tease. Just smiled, soft and satisfied.
---
We ate in silence. It was the first meal I'd shared with someone since... I couldn't even remember when.
Then she said, "You know, you're a lot less scary when you eat."
I gave her a look. She grinned.
"I mean it. People think you're some mysterious ghost or something, always staring out the window like you're in a different world."
I didn't answer.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "But I think you're just lonely."
My fingers froze around a piece of pickled radish.
I looked away.
She didn't press further. Just started humming that same soft tune again.
---
When the bell rang and class resumed, I stared out the window, the taste of her lunch still on my tongue.
I told myself I wouldn't care. That if I stayed away, I wouldn't feel anything.
But then why did I remember the way her laugh echoed in my ears long after the bell stopped ringing?