Some people say high school is the best time of your life. I’m not sure I agree. It feels more like walking on a thin line every day, pretending not to fall. Smile here, compliment there. Be pretty. Be perfect. Be liked.

I was good at it. Too good, maybe.

But then she showed up. The transfer girl with soft eyes and messy hair. She didn’t wear makeup the first week. People whispered. I did too.

Not because I hated her—but because I didn’t know how to understand her.

She was quiet but brave. She helped a kid who dropped his books in the hallway, even when others laughed.

She ate lunch alone at first, but not for long. Somehow, people just... liked her. I told myself I didn’t care.

But I watched her more than I should’ve.

One day, she sat next to me in art class.

"Hi”

she said with a little smile.

“I like your earrings.”

I blinked.

“Thanks. Yours are… cute too.”

I wasn’t even looking at her ears. I was looking at her eyes.

That became our spot. Art class. She always came with her pencils and snacks.

She liked to draw flowers, stars, and sometimes... faces. One day, I peeked at her sketchbook. I saw myself on the page.

Not the perfect version I put on for Instagram.

Not the girl everyone thought I was.

Just me.

Looking out the window. Hair tied up. A small smile. She drew me like she saw something I couldn’t.

“Why me?”

I asked her.

She shrugged.

“You looked peaceful.”

Peaceful. That word stuck with me.

Nobody ever saw me that way before.

We started walking home together. At first, it was just a few times a week. Then every day.

She told me about her family, her favorite K-dramas, how she cried during animated movies.

I laughed a lot around her—like, the real kind of laugh. Not the fake one I used at school.

She made me feel safe.

Seen.

And that scared me.

Because I didn’t know how to deal with these feelings.

I liked her.

I liked the way she touched my arm when she laughed.

I liked how she waited for me even when I was late.

I liked how she looked at me like I mattered.

But I couldn’t say it.

Not when people already expected me to be a certain way.

Pretty Soo-ah. Confident Soo-ah. Straight Soo-ah.

I thought maybe it was just a phase. That I was confused.

Until one day, she wore this yellow hoodie, and her hair was a little messy from the wind.

She looked like the sun. And I thought, I want to hold her hand forever.

So I told her.

We were at the convenience store, sharing a soda and spicy rice cakes.

I wasn’t even thinking when I said it. It just slipped out.

“I think I like you.”

She looked up, eyes wide.

“You do?”

“Yeah"

I said.

“Like… more than friends.”

She didn’t laugh. She didn’t look away.

She just smiled, that small sweet smile that always made my heart feel warm.

“I like you too”

She said.

My chest tightened. I wanted to cry. Or maybe scream. But I just nodded and smiled back.

Since then, things feel softer. We still walk home together. Still share snacks.

But now, she holds my hand.

And when no one’s looking, she kisses my cheek.

I don’t have to be perfect with her. I don’t have to fake anything.

Maybe this isn’t what people expected from me.

But for the first time, I don’t care.

This… this feels real.

This feels like love.