I thought I was mature enough not to fuss over trivial things. After all, she’s not mine. Not my girlfriend. Not someone who belongs to me. Just the model student who always sits in the front row, who speaks only when necessary and never seeks anyone’s attention. Just the smart girl who never forgets her ruler, who bites the tip of her pen and tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s deep in thought. Just that. Supposedly.

But in truth, my body moved on its own the moment I saw that scene from the doorway. The classroom was nearly empty. Only her, sitting in her seat with an open book, and beside her—too close for it to be just a study session—the Class President, with his neat blazer and his voice that sounds like a drama school actor. He was leaning against her desk, lowering his voice, saying something that made her laugh. Soft. Light. A smile that… I’d never seen before.

That smile shouldn’t concern me. But somehow, my chest felt like it was being squeezed. Something inside me clawed to get out, burning its way up. I hated the way she looked at him. Not because she was doing anything wrong—but because I wasn’t the one she was looking at like that.

My footsteps were slow as I entered the room. Not because I was trying to sneak up—no. I just needed a moment to unclench my jaw.

“Well,” I said, my voice rougher than usual. “What a charming sight.”

They both turned. The guy’s eyes widened a bit, clearly surprised. But I didn’t care about him. My focus was fixed—her eyes. Eyes that had just been glowing. Now a little confused. A little startled. As if I’d stepped too close to something that wasn’t mine.

I crossed my arms over my chest and planted myself in the worst possible spot—right in between them. Splitting the space. Dividing it. “Talking about homework?” I asked casually. Too casually. “Or is this a private therapy session I wasn’t invited to?”

I could feel the tension in my jaw starting to lock again. My molars grinding together. I let out a short laugh, just to make it all sound lighter than it felt.

The guy scrambled to gather his things, muttered something about being done, and left in a hurry. Like a little dog who knew when to back down. Good. Leave. Don’t sit where you don’t belong.

Once he was gone, the room fell quieter. The breeze from the open window stirred the curtains, carrying the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet. I was still standing. Still staring at her face. The only face that could set my chest on fire and leave it hollow at the same time.

I tried to speak, but my voice came out stiffer than I expected. “Funny. You can laugh with him, huh?”

I thought I sounded casual. But I knew my left hand was balled into a fist under my crossed arms. My fingers itched. Not because I wanted to hit anything—but because I didn’t know what to do with a feeling I couldn’t touch: this.

I leaned my hip against her desk, too close maybe, but I didn’t care. I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo. Not perfume. Not anything fancy. Just clean and warm. A scent that stabbed straight into my chest.

“You’ve always been cold to me. But with a guy like him, you’re suddenly all sweet, huh?” I glanced at her briefly. Just enough to catch the shift in her expression—but I didn’t look longer. I didn’t want to see something I couldn’t handle.

My chest was full—brimming with things I had no idea how to let out. Jealousy? Maybe. But it was more than that—I was sick. Sick of knowing the only person who made me want to be better… never looked at me the way I looked at her.