That morning, Bandung was covered in a thin layer of mist. The air felt cool, not cold enough to sting, but enough to make every breath feel a little deeper as I stepped down from the public minibus in front of the school gate.

Today was the first day of school after the long holiday.

Harapan Muda High School was already crowded. Students were gathering in small groups, laughing and calling out to friends they hadn’t seen for weeks. Their voices mixed with the sound of footsteps and the rustling of bags, filling the morning air with noise and excitement.

I walked past them quietly, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

This school was already familiar to me. I had studied here for years. I knew which staircase was always crowded in the morning, which corridor students preferred to walk through, and how the school bell sometimes rang a little later than it should.

Still, the first day after a long break always felt different.

Like everything was starting again from the beginning.

This semester, I was officially a tenth grader.

In front of the classroom door, a large sheet of paper was taped to the wall. The list of students for the new class arrangement. Several students had already gathered around it, pushing slightly closer to find their names.

I joined them.

My eyes moved slowly across the list.

Some names were familiar. Others were completely new.

Harapan Muda was a national-plus school. Every year, new students transferred here from other schools to prepare for the Cambridge exams.

Grade ten was the final year before those exams.

That was why many students transferred here.

This year there were only two classes: 10A and 10B.

I carefully scanned the list until I finally found my name.

Hilda Hadinata.

Number twelve.

Class 10A.

I stared at it for a few seconds just to make sure I had read it correctly.

Then I stepped back, giving space for the other students behind me.

That was when it happened.

I accidentally stepped on someone’s foot.

“Ah!”

The boy behind me exclaimed loudly.

I quickly turned around.

He was tall, with a straight posture. His face looked unfamiliar. I was sure I had never seen him at this school before.

“Careful,” he whispered.

I blinked in surprise.

Strangely, he didn’t sound angry at all.

Some of the students nearby started laughing quietly, whispering to each other.

For a moment, I just stood there without saying anything.

As usual.

My brain was always a little slow to react.

“Sorry,” I finally said.

A little too late.

Why was I always like this?

Some of my classmates liked to tease me by calling me slow thinker. I often realized things a few seconds later than everyone else.

The boy didn’t say anything more. He simply looked back at the name list on the door, as if the incident wasn’t important.

I stood beside him for a few seconds.

For some reason, I found myself looking at him again.

Then I suddenly realized I had been staring too long.

Embarrassed, I quickly turned around and entered the classroom.

The room was still half empty. Some students had already taken their seats and were chatting with friends. Laughter filled the room as they talked about their holidays.

I walked slowly between the rows of desks until I found an empty seat.

I sat down.

And like usual, no one sat beside me.

That wasn’t really surprising.

I had always been a little awkward when it came to making friends. I didn’t really have a close friend in class. Sometimes I didn’t even know how to start a conversation.

When people talked too fast, it took me longer to understand what they meant.

Maybe that was why I seemed different.

Or maybe I was just too quiet.

I took a new textbook out of my bag.

To be honest, I wasn’t really reading it.

I was just pretending to be busy.

Sometimes pretending to read felt easier than trying to join someone else’s conversation.

A few minutes later, the bell rang.

The sound made several students quickly return to their seats.

The classroom door opened.

The same boy whose foot I had stepped on earlier walked in.

But he wasn’t alone.

Two girls were walking beside him.

Monika and Karen.

They were among the most popular girls in our school. Almost everyone knew them. They always seemed confident, always surrounded by friends, always at the center of attention.

They walked with the boy as if they had already known him for a long time.

Some students immediately started whispering.

The boy sat down at one of the desks in the middle row while Monika and Karen continued chatting beside him.

A moment later, Mrs. Malaya entered the classroom.

I knew her.

She used to teach English when I was in seventh grade.

Now she was our homeroom teacher.

Mrs. Malaya opened the attendance list in her hand and began calling our names one by one.

After finishing, she looked around the room.

“We’re going to rearrange the seats,” she said.

Several students groaned softly.

I didn’t really mind.

But a few minutes later, something unexpected happened.

“Darren Gunawan,” Mrs. Malaya called.

The boy raised his hand.

“Please move to the seat next to Hilda.”

My head lifted immediately.

Next to me?

Monika, who had been standing near Darren’s desk, looked slightly disappointed.

But she didn’t say anything.

Darren picked up his bag and walked toward my desk.

I pretended not to notice.

He pulled the empty chair beside me and sat down.

“Hi,” he said.

I wasn’t sure whether he sounded friendly or if he was holding back a laugh.

Maybe he still remembered the incident earlier when I stepped on his foot.

I didn’t know whether I should smile.

My heart suddenly started beating faster.

I took a deep breath.

Not because I was annoyed.

I was just… very awkward.

The two boys sitting in front of us, Leonel and Arko, immediately turned around.

“Hey Darren! Nice that you’re sitting near us,” Arko said enthusiastically.

“You still like singing, right?” Leonel added.

I looked at the three of them quietly.

Just listening.

“Darren, you’re still in Arha Band, right?” Arko asked again.

My mind tried to process what they were saying.

Band?

Singer?

I didn’t really follow Indonesian music. The name Arha Band meant nothing to me.

And Darren Gunawan?

Who exactly was he?

Questions began forming in my head.

Before their conversation could continue, Mrs. Malaya spoke from the front of the class.

“Leonel, Arko, you can continue that conversation during break time. Now we’re starting the lesson.”

Both of them quickly turned forward.

The class became quiet as the lesson began.

But from time to time, I found myself stealing glances at Darren.

He was handsome.

Very handsome.

More handsome than most people I had ever seen.

And somehow, Darren noticed.

He turned his head slightly.

Then he smiled.

I didn’t know if that smile was friendly.

Or simply because now, I was his seatmate.

The first break bell rang.

Almost everyone in the class immediately stood up. But that day, something felt different.

Nearly all the students—especially the girls—gathered around Darren.

“Darren, let’s go to the cafeteria!”

“Come with us!”

“What do you usually eat there?”

Their voices overlapped as they surrounded him. Some even tried to pull him along toward the door.

I stayed seated at my desk, quietly watching the scene.

Usually during break time, I either stayed in the classroom or went to the library. Crowded places like the cafeteria had never been comfortable for me.

A few girls started asking Darren for photos.

Others asked him to sign their notebooks.

I watched the commotion for a moment before finally deciding to leave.

The noise was starting to make me uncomfortable.

I had just taken a few steps toward the door when suddenly someone grabbed my hand.

I turned around.

It was Darren.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

His voice was soft, almost as if he didn’t notice the crowd around us.

For a second, I froze.

His hand was still holding mine. My chest suddenly felt tight, and my heart began beating faster.

After a few awkward seconds, I finally answered.

“I’m going to the library.”

Darren leaned slightly closer.

“Come to the cafeteria with me,” he whispered.

I shook my head.

“I want to go to the library.”

The truth was, I rarely went to the cafeteria.

My allowance wasn’t enough to buy snacks every day.

Even though I studied at a national-plus school, my family wasn’t actually wealthy. My school fees were mostly helped by my grandfather from my mother’s side. He was the one who supported my education here.

As for my daily allowance, it was very limited.

Usually just enough for transportation.

If there was any money left, I preferred to save it.

Besides, I was used to eating breakfast at home. I usually only bought food at school if there were extra classes that made me stay late.

“My treat,” Darren whispered.

I looked at him for a moment.

Then, slowly, I nodded.

I followed Darren to the cafeteria.

A few classmates trailed behind us.

Just as I expected, the cafeteria was even more crowded.

The moment Darren stepped inside, several students immediately turned their heads toward us.

“Darren!”

“Can we take a photo?”

“Darren, over here!”

Within seconds, we were surrounded again.

Some students even secretly took pictures with their phones.

I stood beside Darren awkwardly.

For some reason, I suddenly felt like… a bodyguard.

As if Darren deliberately stayed close to me so the others wouldn’t get too close.

Or maybe I was just someone who didn’t care about the excitement, and that somehow made him feel calmer.

I wasn’t really sure.

Over time, the students at school gradually became used to Darren.

And my days began to feel strangely faster.

Sitting next to someone as handsome and popular as him made everything busier than before.

The girls in class—who had barely noticed me before—started gathering around our desks almost every day.

They talked to Darren endlessly.

Most of the time, I simply listened.

Sometimes when I left the classroom for a moment and returned, I would find one of them sitting in my seat as if it belonged to her.

Usually I just stood there quietly until they realized I had come back.

I often listened to their conversations.

They asked Darren about his hobbies.

Where he spent his time outside school.

What kind of music he liked.

And about his band.

Darren himself was actually quite friendly.

I didn’t know whether it was because I was his seatmate or if he was simply that kind of person.

Sometimes the girls would ask to take pictures with him.

And Darren always agreed with a smile.

He never refused.

Soon it wasn’t only students from our class.

Students from the class next door, lower grades, and even seniors often gathered near our classroom door.

They would call his name from outside.

“Darren!”

“Can we take a picture?”

Sometimes they just wanted to see him up close.

Sometimes they only stood at the doorway, calling his name.

The seat beside me—the one that used to feel so quiet—was never quiet anymore.

That day was the first time Darren asked me to go to the cafeteria with him.

The moment we stepped out of the classroom, almost every girl in our class followed us. They gathered around Darren as we walked down the corridor.

Their voices mixed together—laughing, calling his name, asking questions all at once.

To me, the noise felt like a swarm of buzzing flies in my ears.

Meanwhile, Darren walked calmly in the middle of them, trying to be polite and friendly. He answered their questions with a smile, as if he was already used to this kind of attention.

Monika and Karen, the two most popular girls in our school, also walked with us.

Without anyone asking them to, they seemed to take on the role of Darren’s escorts.

But the other students didn’t really care.

They were too excited.

Some of them kept taking pictures. Others asked Darren endless questions.

“Darren, are you filming a new movie?”

“When will your band perform again?”

“Darren, can we take a picture together?”

I walked beside Darren quietly, watching everything around me.

Inside my head, I almost screamed.

Is this Darren’s life?

It must be exhausting.

Always surrounded by people, always having to smile and be friendly.

But strangely, Darren didn’t seem bothered at all.

He kept smiling.

Or maybe… he was simply used to it.

Soon we arrived at the cafeteria.

The cafeteria at Harapan Muda School was always busy during break time.

That day was no different.

As soon as Darren stepped inside, several students turned their heads toward us.

But Darren continued walking as if nothing unusual was happening.

He glanced at me.

“Take anything you want,” he said.

The way he said it made me feel a little awkward.

For a moment, it almost felt like we were on a date.

Of course, we weren’t.

I could choose any food I wanted.

But in the end, I only ordered a bowl of lontong kari—my favorite food in the school cafeteria.

And just like he promised, Darren paid for it.

Even the cafeteria ladies became excited.

They asked to take pictures with him.

One of them laughed and said, “Ah, it’s free for you today!”

But Darren politely refused.

“No, it’s okay, Ma’am. I’ll still pay.”

He handed over the money anyway.

The cafeteria lady smiled widely and suddenly grabbed a fried snack from the tray beside her.

“Here, take this.”

Darren tried to refuse.

“No, Ma’am, it’s okay—”

“Just take it.”

In the end, he accepted it.

It was a comro.

Comro is a traditional fried snack from Bandung. The name comes from the Sundanese phrase oncom di jero, which means “oncom inside.”

It tastes slightly sweet and spicy.

For people who like oncom, it’s delicious.

But even in the cafeteria, the crowd around us didn’t disappear.

Some students still stood nearby, secretly taking photos or calling Darren’s name.

Inside my head, I wanted to scream.

This is completely abnormal.

Finally, Monika and Karen stood up and shouted loudly.

“Alright, everyone! Move!”

“Go away already!”

Some students stepped back, but not all of them.

Luckily, one of the school security guards passed by.

He immediately told the students to stop crowding around our table and go back to their own business.

Slowly, the crowd began to thin out.

Darren smiled.

His smile was surprisingly warm.

Then he handed the comro to me.

“This is for you.”

Monika and Karen looked at me with expressions I couldn’t quite understand.

For a moment, they seemed a little jealous.

But then they started laughing and chatting again.

“You’re really lucky, Hilda,” Karen said.

“Yeah, sitting next to Darren every day,” Monika added.

I pretended not to hear them.

Like usual, I stayed quiet.

I listened to Darren talking with Monika and Karen.

From their conversation, I learned something new.

Monika had actually known Darren for quite a long time.

She was also dating Nicholas, one of the members of Arha Band.

I just sat there like an idiot, listening to their conversation.

After the break ended, we returned to the classroom.

Before the lesson began, one of the teachers stood in front of the class and spoke to everyone.

He reminded the students to treat Darren more like a normal person.

“Let Darren be just another student,” the teacher said firmly.

“Give him some privacy.”

The classroom became quieter after that.

But one thing was already clear to me.

Since Darren arrived, school life would never be the same again.