Is a crush just a strong feeling or something more? Is love a lasting flame or a brief spark? And what is true love, anyway?

Is it all about feelings, or is it something deeper? Or perhaps it's all just a dance of hormones, a complex chemicals and emotions?

Well, those weren't the kinds of questions I had time to ponder.

It was 2017. I was in the 7th grade a skinny-fat kid with a messy, outdated hairstyle and a pale, unremarkable face. My name is Arya, and if there were ever a hierarchy of classroom coolness, I was somewhere near the bottom. A 7th-grade loser. Oh! , excuse me !I mean, student.

As I sat in the most agonizing maths class of my life, struggling to keep my eyes open, Mrs. Deepali, our teacher, droned on. She seemed to have a personal grudge against joy itself. I couldn't help but wonder, What does this woman even want?

When the bell rang, signaling the lunch break, I thought my suffering was finally over. But no, fate had more in store for me. I realized I'd forgotten my water bottle at in the class

Great! . 'First the maths class, and now this', I muttered inwardly, cursing my rotten luck.

I went through the corridor with my head down, avoiding unnecessary attention. I wasn't one of those confident types who walked with puffed chests and bright smiles. No, my walk was brisk, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

As I rounded a corner, a group of girls came into view—a noisy, laughing cluster heading straight toward me. I paid them no mind and kept moving, but before I could pass, one of them stepped on my foot. Hard.!

SMACK!

I lost my balance and tumbled forward, my water bottle hitting the ground with a thud.

"Ow!" I hissed, wincing

Annoyed, I reached out to grab the fallen bottle , but before I could, a hand ,small, soft, and delicate picked it up for me.

"Sorry," a gentle voice said.

I looked up, ready to reply with a curt 'It's fine' but the words caught in my throat.

I froze.!

Standing before me was someone I couldn't have imagined even in my wildest dreams. Her pink lips moved slightly, but her words were a blur. Her fair skin seemed to glow, and the black-and-red-framed spectacles if they were protecting a sacred light within, perched on her nose couldn't hide the light of her eyes . Those eyes ,they weren't just looking at me; they were seeing me, like a distant star glimpsing an unworthy planet.

She handed me the bottle , her fingers brushing mine for the briefest of moments.

And then she walked away.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, stunned. My heart raced, and a thought formed in the back of my mind:

Since when does a goddess walk these mortal halls?