You were the quietest girl in school. So quiet that many assumed you were mute, though you grades always spoke volumes about your intelligence. In class, your hand would shoot up to solve equations or explain complex theories, yet not a single word escaped your lips outside the classroom.

Kade was the school's troublemaker—known for skipping classes and getting into fights. His parents barely noticed him, and he carried the weight of their neglect like a shield. He had no time for academics or rules.

One rainy afternoon, you both found refuge in the old library, a place long abandoned by most. You sat by the dusty window, absorbed in a book, and Kade wandered in to escape the downpour. Surprised to find someone else there, he watched you for a moment. You glanced up and, to his shock, offered a small, gentle smile.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice delicate and kind. It was the first time he'd ever heard her speak.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept meeting in that quiet, forgotten corner of the world. Kade was captivated by your warmth and kindness, qualities he'd never experienced at home. Your voice, rare as it was, became his favorite sound. For the first time in his life, he felt seen. You didn’t judge him or try to change him—you just listened.

As you sat together one autumn afternoon, Kade turned to you, his voice rough and hesitant. “You make me want to do better. Be better,” he said. You smiled, taking his hand in yours, and that was all the answer he needed.

In your presence, he found hope. And in his, you found a friend who saw you for who you truly was, not just the quiet girl with perfect grades.