The sunlight streamed through the window, and I opened my eyes slowly, feeling a weight settle over me. It was the first day of school. The thought hit me like a wave, and I couldn't shake it. This year was different—this time, I was returning to a private Catholic school. The rules, the uniforms, the rigid structure, and the unspoken expectations all came flooding back. Despite knowing what to expect, it still felt overwhelming.
I had already attended this school in my previous life, so I wasn't a stranger to the discipline and the strictness. That part didn't worry me. But there was something else. Something I couldn't quite escape. My first love. He was a shadow in my mind, the source of both sweet memories and the sting of unspoken words. I couldn't help but wonder—did I still have feelings for him? The thought made my chest tighten. I knew I had to face this—there was no avoiding it. The past was the past, and no matter how much it stung, I had to keep moving forward.
I took a deep breath and decided to focus on the present. I had to get ready, get moving. There was no time to dwell on what I couldn't change. As a first-year student, we were allowed to wear free dress for the first month, so I didn't have to worry about the uniform just yet. It was a small comfort, but I appreciated it. I threw on an outfit that felt comfortable yet stylish—a reflection of who I was now. I felt a strange sense of pride in how I had grown, in my new approach to life.
Growing up, I had walked to and from school every day. It had become routine, something I did without thinking much about. Walking had become an act of both reflection and quiet preparation. I used the time to clear my head, to let go of any lingering anxiety. The path to school was a familiar one, but now, with a different perspective and a different version of myself, it felt like the beginning of something new.
Though my high school years hadn't been full of pleasant memories, there were still moments I held onto—the laughter, the fleeting friendships, and the occasional joy. I was determined this time around to change my outlook, to make new, better memories. The past was behind me, and this was a chance to start fresh.
The school came into view as I walked down the street, and my heart picked up speed. Our school was located in the heart of the town, right beside a church, the steeple towering above us like a silent guardian. The school's gate loomed ahead, and I couldn't help but notice the familiar long staircase that led up to the church. I stood at the bottom of the steps for a moment, my thoughts swirling. This was it—the beginning of my new journey.
As I made my way to the school gate, I encountered other students. Some were walking, like me, others were on motorcycles, and a few were dropped off by their parents. The usual scene—yet something about today felt different. The air was filled with the energy of anticipation. I wasn't just walking to school; I was walking into a new chapter of my life.
Because I had already attended this school in my past life, I knew exactly where the first-year classroom was. I made my way inside, and as I entered, I saw a sea of unfamiliar faces. Some were new, but others were familiar from my previous years in school. There were a few classmates I recognized, people who had accompanied me through the highs and lows of my past experiences.
I found my seat in the back corner of the classroom, next to the window. It was quiet there, a perfect spot for focusing and observing. I set my school bag down and took a moment to scan the room. A voice broke my concentration.
"Carmela, you're really here? I didn't think you'd come back to this school," Darren's voice called out. I turned, surprised. He was a familiar face from both primary school and now, here he was again. Darren had always been the life of the room—a great dancer, confident, and popular with everyone. I remembered him fondly from my past life.
"Well, you thought wrong," I replied with a shrug. "My mom didn't want me to go too far, so here I am."
"That's good," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Guess we'll be classmates for the next few years."
"Yeah, it seems like it," I said with a small smile.
Just as I thought our conversation was over, Darren's voice interrupted me again. "Hey, Carmela," he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "I'm going to be your seatmate. You've got to take care of me, okay?"
I blinked, caught off guard by his words. Why would he want me as his seatmate? I quickly pieced it together—he must have chosen me because he knew I was a good student, someone he could rely on to help him out when the lessons got tough. I was known for my academic achievements, after all. It wasn't a bad thing, but I couldn't help but feel a little awkward. Darren and I had shared some good memories in primary school, but I wasn't sure what this new dynamic would be like.
I shrugged it off, deciding not to dwell on it. The classroom was filling up, and I had more important things to focus on. Some of the students were familiar, others less so. The new faces didn't bother me as much as they might have for other first-year students. After all, I already knew a lot about them from my past life. That was an advantage, but also a bit of a curse. I knew who to trust and who to avoid. The thought of making new friends didn't excite me. The people I truly valued were the ones I had known in my previous life—the ones who had been there for me, the ones who had earned my trust.
Before I could settle into my thoughts, a loud group of boys entered the classroom, laughing and chatting. I knew them too—like Darren, they were people I had shared my school years with in the past. They'd formed a tight-knit group, always sticking together, never breaking apart. It was interesting how quickly they had bonded.
As they made their way to their seats, the chatter died down, and the teacher walked in, signaling the start of the day. But before we could settle in for class, the bell rang for the flag ceremony. The whole school had to assemble outside for the morning ritual, and we all filed out of the classroom.
Our school building was on the second floor, so we had to make our way down the stairs to the courtyard below. Most of the first-year students were nervous, their steps quick and uneasy, but I felt calm. I wasn't a stranger to this. I had done this countless times before. It was like second nature to me, and I moved at my own pace.
As I made my way downstairs, I couldn't help but notice the curious glances from the students lining up outside. I had a simple yet stylish look—modest, but with a unique twist. My outfit wasn't anything extraordinary, but I had made it my own, incorporating elements from future trends—subtle hints of Korean style, with accessories that added just the right touch.
Unbeknownst to me, my appearance had already started to attract attention. Students were whispering, wondering who I was, why I seemed so different from everyone else. But I didn't notice. At that moment, I was too focused on what lay ahead. I didn't realize that my presence, my confidence, and my style had already set the stage for the drama that would unfold in the coming days.
Little did I know, the first day of school had only just begun, and already, my life was about to change in ways I couldn't have imagined.