I woke up inside a classroom with very few people in it. As I looked around, I realized it was the classroom from when I was in 3rd or 4th grade. Strangely, I found myself younger too, as if I had gone back in time. I was seated at the middle row's third bench, and ahead of me, at the first bench, was a girl with long black hair.
For some reason, my eyes were glued to her, though I couldn't understand why. Just then, she turned back towards me, but her face was blurry, and I couldn't see her clearly. Despite that, I felt a rush of emotions I couldn't quite identify.
Suddenly, I heard my dad shouting at me to wake up, and I opened my eyes, feeling a slight sadness. It was just a dream, but unlike others, I remembered it vividly even after waking up, which was unusual for me. As I lay in bed, I wondered to myself, "Who was she in my dreams?" and "Why did I feel sad for that person?"
I kept pondering these thoughts until my father scolded me for not waking up sooner. I got up and went to wash up, but my mind was still occupied with thoughts as I brushed my teeth. Tsula's words from yesterday echoed in my head, "I don't want to fall in love with anyone." What did she mean by that? What was she trying to say when she mentioned that love had only brought her pain?
And what about the other day when she played the number game with me? Was it just a tease? These thoughts swirled in my mind as my elder sister entered the kitchen, ready for breakfast. As typical siblings, we started fighting over who would get the bigger share of the biscuits.
I'm in my class right now, and it feels so boring. Yes, I'm always bored whenever I'm in class, but today is an exception because Tsula is absent. It's really rare for her to miss school, and her absence has me worried. I kept pondering why she wasn't here and feeling a bit lonely, wondering if she would be back tomorrow. After class, I texted her to ask what was up. She replied that she wasn't feeling well and had skipped classes but assured me she would be attending tomorrow. I felt relieved thinking about it.
It's been days since our serious conversation, and we haven't talked about it again, but her words still pester me. As if that wasn't enough to annoy me, our science teacher decided to do a Q&A session today. I have a really bad memory, so I rely mostly on understanding concepts rather than memorizing answers. The teacher made everyone stand up and asked us to sit only if we were prepared to answer his questions.
Even though I knew the answers, my introverted self couldn't risk the embarrassment of possibly getting them wrong, so I remained standing. I ended up standing for the whole period, feeling embarrassed and frustrated.
The next day, the torture continued. I would much prefer a written test over this, but it was the same ordeal. Despite knowing the answers, I stayed standing, too afraid of saying something wrong. On that day, I decided to change seats with my friend and sat by the window. However, things went from bad to worse. Annoyed, I tried to open the window with a strong push, and the glass shattered, falling outside the class.
Surprised and panicked, I quickly climbed out the window and started gathering the pieces. Soon, a girl named Temsu, who was the vice captain for the current month, came over with a book and told me to gather the glass shards on it. She kindly helped me pick up the pieces. Despite her help, I was only thinking about the consequences. Luckily, the teachers and principals forgave me and didn't ask for compensation, knowing I wasn't the violent type of student. I felt relieved but also guilty for not properly thanking Temsu for her help. Sometimes, I really dislike my introverted self.
A few days have passed since the window incident, and thankfully, no one seems to be bothered by it. The better news is that our teacher has been conducting tests lately, which makes things a lot easier for me.
Today, we had a free period during our 5th period because our subject teacher was absent. I was glad to have this break. During the free period, Reze, the handsome and funny guy from our class, decided to entertain us by pretending to be the teacher. He told us some funny stories and even danced a bit. He also mentioned my "lover" in his jokes, but thankfully, he wasn't referring to Tsula, which made me feel relieved. Although the period was enjoyable, I think I still prefer just sleeping through it.
That night, I had the same dream again, but this time it was clearer. I opened my eyes in the dream and found myself with my father, who was holding my hand and dropping me off at my class on the first day of the grade. There were many new faces I didn't recognize. Soon, I was back in the classroom, sitting alone at the third bench, while the girl from my previous dream was at the front.
As she turned to look at me, I saw a much younger version of Tsula. Her face was puffier and she looked adorably innocent. But when she met my gaze, I noticed tears running down her cheeks. Her face was filled with sadness, and I felt a deep sense of dread. I wanted to approach her and ask what was wrong, but my body wouldn't move. I tried to reach out, but the effort was in vain as I woke up from the dream.
The memory lingered with me, and I recalled that I had always been in Section B while Tsula was in Section A. We were never classmates until we reached the 10th grade, so I never thought we could have met before. But I remembered that one time my father accidentally placed me in the wrong section when I was younger, and I had to stay in that class for half a day. Was that when I saw her? I wondered. Why was she crying back then? Why did she have such a sad expression?
The realization left me feeling frustrated and guilty. I berated myself for not being there for her when she needed someone. As I continued to dwell on these thoughts, I slowly drifted off to sleep, still troubled by the unanswered questions.
It's been days since that dream rekindled my memory of the time I might have met Tsula, yet I haven't found the right moment to discuss it with her. The routine of class continued, and with the start of a new month came the election for our class captain and vice captain. To my bewilderment, the entire class began chanting my name for the captaincy. I had no idea why, and despite my reluctance, the overwhelming support left me with no choice but to accept the role. I planned to maintain my laid-back approach despite the new responsibilities.
After class, Tsula and I continued our usual WhatsApp conversations. It's become a fun ritual for me to tease her, and regardless of her reactions—whether annoyance, happiness, or irritation—she remains endearing. But tonight, our chat took a more serious turn as Tsula began to open up about her past.
Her story was heart-wrenching. She shared many details, but the core of her story was about her parents' love marriage. When she was young, her parents fought, and her mother left. Tsula, a child who didn't fully understand the gravity of the situation, had begged her mother not to go, but her pleas were in vain. Though her mother returned after a few months, things were never the same. Tsula blamed herself for the incident, feeling that she had failed to prevent it, even though she was just a child at the time. It wasn't her fault; how could a young girl be held responsible for something so complex? I reassured her that she wasn't to blame and offered my support. Tsula also spoke about the pain love had caused her, including a past experience with an obsessive admirer who tried to harm her and cause trouble.
She also shared the torment of her friendships. Tsula told me how friends she trusted would confess their love, only to withdraw once their feelings were not reciprocated. Each confession left her more isolated, despite their promises to remain friends. Their departures left her feeling betrayed and abandoned, intensifying her fear of losing those she holds dear. The cycle of trust and loss has made her wary of forming new connections, fearing that every new friend might eventually leave her just like the others.
As she spoke, I remembered her moments of distress from the past. Times when she seemed sad and alone, and I felt a sad for not being there when she needed support.
The thought of her enduring all this heartache alone was unbearable. I couldn't stand the idea of repeating the past mistakes, of being absent once again when she needed someone. I imagined her crying alone, her pain echoing through the years, and I knew I had to act. I made a decision, driven by a deep resolve to be present for her in ways I had failed to be before.
I sent her a message: "Don't worry about it. I promise I will never fall in love with you, so there's no need to fear losing me."
Her response was tinged with relief and a hint of happiness, a small comfort in the midst of her ongoing struggles.
What I've learned so far is only a fragment of Tsula's past. As she continues to share her story, I am committed to being a steadfast presence in her life. This is just the beginning of our journey together, and I am determined to support her as she navigates the complexities of her emotions and past traumas.