Far away, in another city called Riverton, the morning sunlight slipped through a gap in the curtains and spilled across the floor of a modest bedroom.
The room was unusually quiet.On the desk, it sat a half-empty bottle of water, several schoolbooks, a pair of headphones, and a laptop that had been playing the same video over and over again.
In front of the screen sat a teenager in a neatly pressed school uniform.
His name was James Miller.
James was an ordinary-looking seventeen-year-old with slightly messy black hair, average features, and the kind of face that would disappear into a crowd without anyone remembering it five minutes later.
Normally, James was the type of student who would rather stay in bed until the last possible second before school.
But today was different; his eyes remained glued to the screen as he repeatedly clicked backward, replayed, paused, rewind, and played the video again.
He had been doing this since last night.The moment he had first heard the song, he had frozen.
A strange sensation had spread across his body.
Goosebumps had covered his arms, and for several seconds, he had simply sat there with his headphones on, staring at nothing.
It didn't feel like someone was merely singing.
It felt like someone had reached through his headphones and spoken directly to his heart.
Especially that part.
"You know you're no stranger to love..."
"You know the rules and so do I..."
James slowly removed one side of his headphones.
His eyes widened.
"That's it..."
He nodded firmly.
"That's exactly it."
Wasn't this what love was supposed to be?
Loyalty.
Devotion.
Staying beside someone no matter what happened.Every lyric sounded like the confession he had wanted to make for years but had never possessed the courage to say.
By the time the song had finished, James had already listened to it more than twenty times.
Then thirty.
Then, he started watching reaction videos.
Then lyric breakdowns.
Then, videos about relationships.
Then videos titled things like:
"How to Know If a Girl Likes You."
"Seven Signs She's Secretly in Love With You."
"How to Tell If Your Crush Is Giving You Hints."
And the more he watched...
The more convinced he became.
James slowly clenched his fist.
"This has to be a sign."
His expression became unusually firm.
Today...
He was going to confess.
Just as he was lost in his thoughts, the bedroom door suddenly creaked open.
"James?"
A woman peeked inside.
It was his mother, Linda.
She stopped, her eyes widening as she stared at her son for several seconds, only to realize that James was already dressed.
His school uniform was neatly tucked in, his shoes were polished, and, most surprisingly, of all, he was sitting upright at his desk before she had even come to wake him.
Even his hair was unusually sleek.There was so much oil in it that the United States might have declared his forehead a national resource and demanded its freedom.
His mother slowly walked over.
She placed the back of her hand against his forehead.
"Are you sick?"
James immediately shook his head.
"No, Mom."
He quickly closed the laptop.
"I'm perfectly fine."
Linda narrowed her eyes.
"Then why are you awake this early?"
James stood up with an unusually serious expression.
"I'm eager to get to school."
His mother blinked.
"... What?"
"This is my senior year," James explained solemnly. "I need to start taking things seriously."
Linda stared at him.
Since when?
Her son wasn't a bad student, but he had always been painfully average.
He wasn't failing.
He wasn't outstanding either.
Most of the time, he simply floated somewhere comfortably in the middle of the class, and now he was suddenly talking about taking his studies seriously?
Linda began wondering whether her son had been possessed during the night.
"Okay..."
She slowly withdrew her hand.
"Well, breakfast is ready."
"You should come downstairs before it gets cold."
James nodded.
"I'll be there in a minute."
His mother walked toward the door. Before leaving, she glanced back at him suspiciously.
Could her son really be turning over a new leaf?
If so,wouldn't that be a blessing from the ancestors?
She shook her head and closed the door.The moment she disappeared, James grabbed his schoolbag.
Today, nothing was going to stop him.
---
After a quick breakfast, James said goodbye to his mother and rushed outside with his bicycle, the unusually fresh morning air filling him with excitement as he thought about Cynthia, the girl he'd secretly liked since eighth grade.
For four years, he'd lacked the courage to confess, but after hearing the song and watching those videos last night, he had finally convinced himself that all her smiles, glances, polite words, and small gestures were obvious signs that she liked him too.
With a confident grin, James pushed harder on the pedals and declared, "Today, I'm going to be the protagonist," before dramatically raising one hand and shouting, "GOOD MORNING, MY NEIGHBORS!" only for a barking dog and an angry voice from behind a fence to answer him.
---
By the time he reached school, he was already sweating slightly.
The school gate stood ahead.Old Man John, the security guard, was sitting inside his little booth when he suddenly noticed the bicycle approaching.
His eyes widened.
"James?"
James smiled brightly.
"Good morning, Mr. John!"
The old man stared at him.
Then he glanced at the clock.
Then back at James.
"You're early."
James proudly parked his bicycle.
"I have things to do today."
Old Man John stared after him as he walked toward the school building.This was the same kid who normally arrived just before the bell.
Today, James was the second student to arrive at school.
That alone felt strange. He was usually one of the first people through the gates, but this morning he had deliberately slowed down on the way there, taking his time even though his stomach had been twisting with nervousness since he woke up. The reason was simple enough. He wanted to see Cynthia before everyone else arrived.
Of course, Cynthia had beaten him to it.
She always did.
Everyone knew Cynthia was an early bird. She was the kind of person who arrived before the classroom was properly awake, settled into her seat, arranged her books neatly on the desk, and started reviewing her notes while the rest of the students were still stumbling through the school gates half-asleep.
James had secretly admired that about her for years.
He walked down the quiet corridor toward their classroom, the faint sound of his shoes against the polished floor seeming unusually loud in the otherwise empty building. Morning sunlight spilled through the windows, painting long golden rectangles across the corridor, but James barely noticed the scenery. His thoughts were already racing ahead of him.
James reached the classroom door, but just before he could enter, something caught his attention. He glanced toward the window of the neighboring classroom and stopped.
His reflection stared back at him.For a moment, James simply looked at himself.
His school uniform was neat enough, but suddenly, it didn't feel neat enough. His tie looked slightly crooked. His hair seemed messier than usual. There was something suspicious about his face, too, although he couldn't quite figure out what it was.
He leaned closer to the glass.
"Do I really look like this?"
His own reflection, unsurprisingly, offered no reassurance.
James sighed and immediately began fixing himself. He straightened his tie, tugging at the knot until it sat perfectly beneath his collar, then ran his fingers through his hair several times in an attempt to make it look casually styled rather than carefully styled.
He stared at himself again.
Better.
Probably.
Then he remembered his breath.
James quickly pulled a small bottle of cologne from his bag and hesitated before spraying it once against his neck.
He paused.
That seemed fine.
Then, after a moment's consideration, he sprayed himself again.
And again.
The third spray made him stop.
"...Maybe that's enough."
He lowered the bottle and stared at it as though it had personally betrayed him.
What if he smelled too strongly?
What if Cynthia noticed?
No, wait. What if she didn't notice?
That would be worse somehow.
James shoved the cologne back into his bag and rubbed his palms against his trousers. His heart was beating much faster now, and the ridiculous thing was that he hadn't even spoken to her yet.
He took a slow breath.
Then another.
"Okay."
His voice came out quieter than he expected.
"You got this."
It was only Cynthia.
Just the girl he had liked since eighth grade.
Just the girl he had spent countless afternoons secretly watching from across the classroom.
Just the girl whose smile he could recognize from across a crowded hallway.
Just the girl he was finally going to confess to.
James closed his eyes for a second.
Then he opened them, reached for the door handle, and pushed it open.
The classroom was almost completely empty.
The usual morning noise was nowhere to be found. No laughter, no shouting across desks, no students complaining about homework. Only the soft rustle of pages turning somewhere near the windows.
And there she was.
Cynthia sat near the window with her head slightly lowered, quietly reading through her notes. The morning sunlight fell across her desk and caught the edges of her hair, giving her an almost unreal glow.
James froze in the doorway.
All the confidence he had desperately tried to build in the corridor vanished in an instant.His carefully rehearsed words disappeared.
His perfectly arranged thoughts disappeared.
Even the breathing exercise seemed useless now.
She was sitting beside the window, quietly reading a book and for a moment, James forgot how to breathe.
The morning sunlight streamed through the window, falling across her side of the classroom and illuminating her soft brown hair.
She had delicate features, clear skin, and a calm expression as she turned the pages.
To James...
She looked like an angel.
As though sensing someone enter, Cynthia lifted her head.Their eyes met and James's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
Cynthia stared at him for a second.
Then she calmly lowered her eyes and returned to her book..
James swallowed.
She looked at me.
She definitely likes me.
At least, that was what he told himself. The way Cynthia had looked at him for that brief moment had to mean something, right? Maybe she had been surprised to see him so early. Maybe she was simply curious. Or maybe—just maybe—she had been waiting for him too.
James took a slow, deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. You got this. He had rehearsed this moment countless times in his head, imagining all the possible ways it could go.
In most of those fantasies, he was confident, charming, and somehow managed to say exactly the right thing. Unfortunately, the moment had arrived, and none of that confidence seemed to have followed him into the classroom.
He forced himself to move.