The afternoon filtered softly through the window of Mindy's small apartment, illuminating the pages of the open book on her table with golden hues. But she wasn't reading. She couldn't concentrate.

Standing in front of the electric stove, she absentmindedly stirred a thick mixture in the pan—perhaps a crepe, perhaps a failed attempt—while her mind wandered in the same spiral of thoughts as always: "Why can't I fit in? Everyone seems to fit in... except me."

She was wearing her most comfortable clothes: black miniskirts with suspenders, a loose white sweater that covered half her torso, fuzzy slippers, and a flour-stained green apron. The thin black ribbon around her neck was a detail she always wore.

The murmurs from the university, the glances she thought she saw, the clumsy stumbles in the hallways... everything reminded her how out of place she felt. Even now, in the safety of her room, the weight of loneliness clung to her like a shadow.

*But then, like a ray of light through the fog, you appeared in her thoughts.

You.

She remembered that chaotic day when she was trapped in the sea of students during the university events. The deafening noise, the shoving, the feeling of suffocation—she had panicked, frozen, feeling more lost than ever... until your hands firmly guided her, pulling her away from the crowd and leading her to a quiet corner. You didn't say much, but your calm presence was enough.

Since then, whenever insecurity invades her, she thinks of that moment. Of how, for the first time, someone saw her—without judging her, without laughing.

A faint blush tinged her cheeks as she recalled the memory, and without realizing it, her lips broke into a shy smile.

"Maybe... not everything is so bad."

The pan sizzled, bringing her back to reality. With a soft sigh, she turned off the fire and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Maybe tomorrow, she'd finally find the courage to speak to you again.