Hiraeth

1 - The First Gaze

"Meeting you was an accident that I had never expected."

•••

That morning sky was still gloomy, leaving behind dew that clung to the leaves of the angsana trees in the school yard. The air was still cold, and the scent of damp earth spread softly, calming yet tempting the unfinished drowsiness. The school looked like usual: rows of students walked briskly, some laughed freely, others busily opened notebooks before the bell rang. But that morning was not an ordinary morning for Sekala.

He stood near the school gate, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes scanned the entire courtyard—not searching for someone, just to pass the time. But then, something stopped his gaze.

Someone had just walked in from outside the gate. A girl.

Her hair was jet-black, long and straight, flowing freely in the wind. Her face was serene, with calm, deep eyes as if holding a world she wasn’t ready to reveal. She looked unfamiliar—someone Sekala had never seen before. Her uniform was just like the other girls’, but somehow everything looked different when she wore it.

Her steps were unhurried. She seemed to savor every second of her newness in this place, like a newly bloomed flower unafraid to be seen.

And when her eyes met Sekala’s—only for a moment—time seemed to hold its breath.

Sekala didn’t realize he had been staring for too long. Until finally, the girl gently smiled. Not a wide smile, but just enough to warm Sekala’s chest like a morning slowly finding its sun.

The girl walked away. Sekala stood frozen.

“Hey, bro, let’s go in. The bell rang already!” Andra, Sekala’s best friend, snapped him out of his daydream. He only nodded and followed Andra into the classroom.

Throughout the first lesson, Sekala couldn’t focus. His eyes kept glancing out the window, imagining which class the girl might be in, who she was making friends with, and—foolishly—whether she was also thinking about that brief but shaking moment of eye contact.

What’s her name?

Alaina had just moved two days ago from a small town in the south. Her father was an architect currently working on a long-term project in the city, so her family had to move with him. As an only child, she didn’t mind. Moving from place to place had always been a part of her story. But a new school always made her nervous. The first day always left a strange feeling that never really went away.

But this morning, something felt different.

As she walked through the school gate, she felt someone’s gaze. Not the usual judgmental or curious stares, but a gaze that felt… warm. A gaze that didn’t judge.

She returned the gaze. Only briefly. And smiled. Just a little.

But that smile made her heart beat twice as fast.

She didn’t dare look for long. Even after entering the classroom, the nervousness didn’t fade. She didn’t know his name, didn’t know who he was. But something had been stuck in her chest since that morning: a strange and unfamiliar nervousness.

Days passed, and they slowly became aware of each other's presence.

Sekala found out which class Alaina was in. He often "coincidentally" passed by that classroom, pretending to head to the student council room, when in fact he just wanted to make sure the girl was still real—not just a strange illusion from that unusual morning.

Alaina, too, began to recognize Sekala’s footsteps. Every time he passed through the corridor or entered the library, she knew he was near. But every time Sekala got too close, Alaina would lower her head, pretending to be busy with a book or looking the other way. Nervousness always overwhelmed her.

Yet they never truly spoke.

Every time they passed each other, all that happened was a smile. Sometimes Sekala looked away first. Sometimes Alaina did, her face flushing. They were like two magnetic poles drawn toward each other, but never quite touching.

They didn’t know much, but they both knew one thing: the feeling was real.

One afternoon, it rained unexpectedly. The school felt quieter than usual. Some students sheltered in the hall, while others stayed in their classrooms. Sekala chose to sit on the back steps of the library building—his favorite place to be alone. He was sketching in his notebook—not for school, just random drawings. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached.

Sekala looked up.

Alaina.

Rain had dampened the tips of her hair. She was holding a notebook in her hand, seemingly looking for a quiet place to read.

They stared at each other.

The rain seemed to soften. Time seemed to slow again.

Sekala gave a small smile, then asked, “Do you usually read here too?”

Alaina looked a little nervous. She opened her mouth, but only nodded. The words felt stuck in her throat.

Sekala didn’t want to pressure her to speak, so he shifted slightly. “If you want to sit, there’s still room.”

Alaina nodded again, then sat at the end of the steps. The distance was still there, but close enough to make both their hearts beat wildly.

Silence wrapped around them again. But this time, it wasn’t unfamiliar silence—it was a comfortable one.

Sekala occasionally peeked from the corner of his eye. Alaina was reading, but clearly nervous too. Sometimes their eyes met, and they quickly looked away. And when that happened, a small laugh slipped from Sekala’s lips.

Alaina only looked down, her face red.

The bell hadn’t rung yet, but their hearts were already in a noisy uproar.

That day, they didn’t say much. Only a few words from Sekala, and a nod or small smile from Alaina. But something had changed.

After that moment, they started greeting each other. Not with long conversations, but with longer gazes, clearer smiles, and brief greetings from Sekala like:

“Morning,” or “Have you eaten?”

Alaina still hadn’t really replied out loud. Just a nod. But Sekala kept smiling, as if that was more than enough.

Their meetings remained simple. Eye contact. Smiles. Sometimes sitting quietly under the acacia tree behind the school. They seemed to understand that no many words were needed to feel close.

Sekala often wrote poems about Alaina’s eyes—like a calm lake hiding a secret storm. Alaina sketched Sekala’s silhouette in her journal, secretly, never admitting it.

Their love hadn’t fully bloomed yet, but the seed was deeply planted. And though the world still felt unfamiliar, though neither dared speak honestly yet, they knew: something had changed since that morning.

On a Friday afternoon, when the school was starting to empty and the sky turned golden, Sekala saw Alaina standing near the gate—just like the first time they met.

They gazed at each other again. But this time, that gaze carried hope.

“If I said I liked you from the first time I saw you, would you believe me?” Sekala asked silently in his heart. He didn’t dare speak it aloud, but his eyes were honest enough to say it all.

Alaina smiled again. She didn’t reply, but she knew. She knew everything had already begun.

And the world, for the first time, felt like a place worthy of falling in love.

-TBC-