When the Story Continues (Sequel to When the Script Changes)

Chapter 18: Love at First Sight

Juno smirked. "Well, don't just stare. Go talk to her."

Mon froze. "What? No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because! Look at her! She looks like she'd bite my head off."

Juno snorted. "Maybe. But knowing you, you'd probably still think it's cute."

Mon groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This is a disaster."

Juno laughed. "Or it's the start of something really good."

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It took Mon three days to finally work up the courage to talk to her.

And it wasn't even on purpose.

She was running late for class—rushing across campus, her bag swinging wildly behind her—when she rounded a corner too fast and slammed into someone.

Hard.

Her books went flying.

Mon stumbled back, mumbling a panicked, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

And then—

She looked up.

And it was her.

Sam.

Up close, she was even more intimidating.

Her dark eyes were sharp, unreadable. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.

Mon's stomach did that stupid flip again.

She scrambled to pick up her books, hands shaking. "I—I wasn't looking where I was going. Totally my fault. Are you okay?"

Sam didn't say anything at first.

She just watched Mon.

Studied her.

Like she was trying to figure her out.

Mon held her breath.

Then—

"You're loud."

Mon blinked. "Huh?"

Sam crossed her arms. "I see you around. You laugh a lot. You talk too much."

Mon's heart sank. "Oh... sorry?"

Then, to her shock, Sam smirked.

"Don't be. It's kind of... nice."

Mon forgot how to function.

Her brain completely short-circuited.

Was this girl—this mysterious, cold, untouchable girl—flirting with her?

Sam handed Mon her last book and brushed past her, heading toward the library.

Mon stared after her.

Juno, who had witnessed the whole thing, rushed over.

"Okay, what was that?!"

Mon could barely breathe.

"I have no idea... but I think I'm doomed."

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Days passed.

Mon kept seeing Sam.

In the dining hall, in the library, at random spots around campus.

And every time, Sam looked at her—not in a cold way, but in a way that felt intentional.

Like she was letting Mon in, little by little.

One evening, Mon found herself in the library, struggling with an essay.

"You're frowning too much."

Mon jumped.

Sam was standing beside her desk, looking down at her with that same unreadable expression.

Mon chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well, essays tend to do that to me."

Sam pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. "Let me see."

Mon's brain glitched.

She didn't expect Sam to stay.

She didn't expect her to lean in, scanning the paper with quiet focus.

She definitely didn't expect her to actually help.

But she did.

And for the first time, Mon saw it.

The softness beneath the icy exterior.

Sam was cold to the world—closed off, distant.

But to Mon?

She was something else entirely.

And Mon?

She was completely, utterly, hopelessly gone.

---------

Weeks passed.

And slowly, Sam let Mon closer.

She started sitting with her at lunch.

She started waiting for her after class.

She started sending little texts—"Don't forget your jacket, it's cold"—as if she wasn't the coolest, most effortless person on campus.

And one night, as they walked back to their dorms under the stars, Mon finally asked.

"Why me?"

Sam glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"You don't let people in. But... you let me in."

Sam was quiet for a long moment.

Then—

"You smiled at me," she said softly. "On the first day. Everyone else looked at me like I was untouchable. But you? You smiled."

Mon's breath hitched.

Sam looked at her then, really looked at her.

And with quiet certainty, she said—

"I think I was yours from the start."

Mon's heart nearly burst.

Because for the first time in her life—

She knew.

This wasn't just a crush.

This was it.

Samanan Anantrakul was it.