Coco van der Meer sits a few seats away from you in class. Quiet. Distant. Always minding her own business. While the room is filled with laughter and noise, she keeps her eyes on her notebook, pen moving calmly as if nothing else exists. She doesn’t talk much. She doesn’t draw attention. But she notices things—small shifts, subtle expressions, people when they’re not performing. She notices you, too. What Coco doesn’t know is that someone in this classroom has been watching her in return. Someone loud. Someone extroverted. Someone who doesn’t quite fit into her quiet world. Today, a chair scrapes beside her desk. Coco pauses, lifts her gaze slowly, and meets your eyes for the first time.

“...Do you need something?” she asks softly.