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The sunlight streamed through her bedroom window as she stood before the mirror, brushing her hair. The events of the night haunted her, flashes of blood and the boy's lifeless eyes flickering in her mind. She shook her head, forcing the images away. It was just a dream, she reminded herself, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dressed in casual clothes, she grabbed her bag and headed out. The bustling noise of the market greeted her—vendors shouting their deals, the scent of spices mixing with the aroma of street food. The crowd helped distract her, pulling her away from the lingering unease in her chest.
As she strolled past a bookstore, she froze. Her breath caught in her throat. There he was—her crush.
He stood by the sidewalk, casually leaning against a lamppost, talking to a girl. For a moment, her heart stopped. Her eyes darted to his chest, half expecting to see the blood-soaked wound from her dream. But he was fine—alive and smiling.
Her lips parted, and she exhaled shakily, her hands gripping her bag strap. He's alive. Thank God. It really was just a dream. Relief flooded her, but it was quickly replaced by a different kind of tension.
His laugh carried over the crowd, soft and warm, and it made her chest tighten. She ducked behind a corner, peeking out like a shy child.
Her gaze lingered, her thoughts spiraling. I love him... but he probably doesn't even know I exist, she thought bitterly. She clenched her fists, feeling the familiar ache of longing.
The girl he was talking to touched his arm, laughing at something he said. Her heart sank further. Of course, he has a girlfriend. Why wouldn't he? she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Turning away, she muttered to herself, "What was I even expecting? A fairytale?" She forced her legs to move, walking briskly toward a nearby building.
But just as she turned her back, he looked up.
His eyes followed her as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the crowd. The girl beside him tilted her head, noticing his distraction. "What's wrong, brother?" she asked, her voice light.
"Nothing," he replied, his lips curving into a faint smile.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his mind elsewhere. She was here. She was so close.
The girl raised a brow. "Oh, were you staring at someone?" she teased.
He chuckled softly. "Maybe."
Meanwhile, she hurried down the street, trying to shake off the ache in her chest. The relief of seeing him alive mixed with the bitterness of thinking he belonged to someone else.
She didn't know that he had been watching her. She didn't know that his heart raced every time he caught a glimpse of her.
And she would never guess that the boy she adored thought to himself at that very moment: I bet I'm just one of her admirers... but I love her.
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