A Normal Morning

Episode 1: And the Day Began Like Any Other

“Oh, another Friday morning,” Amaranta groaned, dragging herself out of bed, exhausted from endless routine.

She skipped breakfast again, stuffing her books into her bag, silently counting the minutes to school.

Then she saw him — the boy she had quietly admired for three years, ever since seventh grade.

He glanced her way, briefly, unaware of who she was, and her heart skipped uncontrollably anyway.

By the end of the day, she wrote in her diary, “Three years of silent longing, and yet, one fleeting glance can still feel like magic.”

The next day, Amaranta was determined. She wanted him to notice her, to see that she existed.

She sat through every boring period, counting down the minutes, her excitement growing, and heart racing faster.

Finally, lunch break arrived. She waited, ready, hoping for a small chance, a smile, a glance.

But it never came. He didn’t notice her, didn’t even look in her direction once.

Her heart sank, disappointment heavy, yet somewhere inside, a quiet spark whispered: she would try again.

The next day, Amaranta woke with determination. Her heart raced as she imagined finally doing something — anything — to get him to notice her.

At lunch, she saw him standing by his carriage, surrounded by classmates. Her hands shook as she approached, heart thudding like a drum. She had rehearsed what to do a hundred times in her mind, but now that the moment had arrived, words deserted her.

Summoning every ounce of courage, she reached out and gently lifted his carriage, placing it beside him. She stood frozen, barely breathing, waiting for any sign, any glance.

He looked at her — only for a second — and said nothing. Amaranta felt her face burn red, nervousness twisting in her stomach. She could barely speak, barely moving, yet the world seemed to narrow to that single moment.

Finally, she returned the carriage to him, bowing slightly in embarrassment. She expected nothing, yet her heart swelled. For the first time in three long years, he had noticed her.

She didn’t need words. That fleeting glance, the smallest acknowledgment, was enough. She walked back to her friends, cheeks still hot, a quiet smile on her lips, feeling lighter than she had in years.

That night, in her diary, she wrote, “Today he looked at me. He didn’t speak, yet it was everything. I exist, and he noticed me. I finally exist.”

By the end of the day, Amaranta returned home, her steps light, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. She sank onto her bed, opened her diary, and began writing with a fervent energy she could barely contain.

“Today was… unbelievable. He looked at me. I don’t think he knows I exist, but it’s something. Three years, and I finally felt it — a tiny connection, a spark. I can’t stop smiling. My heart feels lighter than ever.”

She reached for her calendar and carefully placed a small, bright sticker on today’s date — a mark of triumph, a memory preserved. Even the sticker felt like magic, as if the world had acknowledged her joy.

Her thoughts wandered, imagining the days ahead. She wanted things between them to develop faster, to move beyond stolen glances and shy gestures. She reminded herself that he was a year older, in tenth grade while she was still in ninth, which made every step forward seem both thrilling and terrifying.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll try something small, just to be noticed again. Maybe a smile, a word, anything. I want him to know I exist — truly know me. I’ve waited three years for this, and I can’t let it slip away.”

Amaranta closed her diary, her heart still pounding, her mind racing with hope and excitement. For the first time in years, Friday felt extraordinary. Something had shifted, tiny but unmistakable, and it was enough to make her believe that perhaps one day, her silent longing could become something more.

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