Love wasn’t something I understood back then.

Everyone around me seemed to have a story—secret crushes, late-night calls, stolen glances that lasted a little too long. I didn’t have any of that.

Maybe that’s why I said yes when someone asked me out. Not because I liked him. I was just curious.

The relationship lasted. The feelings didn’t.

A few months later, I missed school for a family function. It was supposed to be a normal day away—noise, relatives, photos I didn’t want to be in.

When I got home, my brother said it like it meant nothing.

“One of your friends called.”

That night, I texted him.

Why did you call?

His reply came instantly.

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

The next morning, I walked into school still thinking about that message.

A friend stopped me before class.

“Hey,” they said, grinning. “Someone likes you.”

I laughed—until they said the name.

I froze.

It was him.

The same boy I had once “proposed” to on Prank Day.

A stupid joke.

At least, that’s what I’d called it.

The funny part was, he hadn’t even believed me. He rejected me before I could admit it was a prank. So hearing his name now made no sense.

I told myself it was another joke and tried to ignore it.

Then I saw him—crossing the school yard, his bag hanging from one shoulder.

Nothing about him looked different.

And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t stop smiling.

For the first time, I found myself wondering why.

I kept telling myself it didn’t matter.

It was just a stupid prank.

Back then, I had walked up to him with my friends trying not to laugh behind me.

“I like you.”

I still remembered the confused look on his face.

Then he said no.

That should have been the end of it. It was a prank, after all—so why had I felt disappointed?

For days, I told myself I was only upset because the prank had failed.

I believed that. Mostly.

I didn’t think about it again.

Until now.

The moment I heard his name, the memory came rushing back.

Class had already started.

His friends had practically dragged him to the side of the classroom, and mine were no better. Every few minutes someone would look at me and start laughing. Someone else would look at him. Then everyone would laugh even harder.

I buried my face in my notebook, pretending to be annoyed.

Truthfully, I was trying not to smile.

For the first time in a long time, class felt strangely fun.

While the teacher wrote on the board, I looked up.

He was already looking at me.

The moment our eyes met, he looked away.

A few seconds later, one of his friends hit his shoulder and started teasing him.

I looked back down, fighting a smile.

I didn’t understand what was happening.

I only knew I couldn’t stop looking in his direction.