Episode 5 — Moments between words

The long-awaited lunch had arrived, and Amaranta’s heart was pounding so loudly that she was sure everyone around her could hear it. Every step toward the cafeteria felt heavier than the last. She had imagined this meeting a hundred times, rehearsing every word, every smile, every tiny gesture she could possibly make. And yet, now that the moment was here, she felt her courage vanish like morning mist.

She waited by the spot they had agreed on, scanning the crowd endlessly. There he was — the boy she had been nervously messaging — standing a few meters away, looking around casually, completely unaware of her presence. Amaranta’s stomach twisted into knots. She practiced stepping forward, then stopped. She rehearsed a greeting, then faltered.

Up and down, left and right — she wandered like a trapped butterfly, pacing the small area, each time finding herself too shy to actually call out to him. Her friend noticed her pacing and whispered, “Just go to him! You’ve got this!”

But no matter how many times she tried, her feet froze, her voice disappeared, and her courage seemed to evaporate into the warm lunchtime air. He was right there, closer than she had imagined, yet impossibly far away.

Minutes passed, and frustration built. Amaranta stopped mid-step and looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he come toward her? Then she saw him — walking directly past her and toward her class. Panic bubbled in her chest. Why was he going there?

She and her friend hurried to the doorway, peeking out. He opened the door, glanced inside, and then, just as quickly, stepped out again. Amaranta’s heart hammered. This was it. She couldn’t wait any longer.

Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, she stepped forward, her voice trembling. “I… I am—”

Before she could even finish, he looked at her, smiled faintly, and gave a simple thumbs-up.

Time seemed to freeze. Her chest swelled with relief and happiness, and an uncontrollable smile spread across her face. She had said almost nothing, yet somehow, he had acknowledged her. That small gesture — just a thumbs-up — felt like the grandest, most validating response she could have hoped for.

Without thinking, she turned to her friend, grabbed them in a tight hug, and whispered, “He… he knows!”

Her friend laughed softly, squeezing her back. “I knew you could do it. See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Amaranta’s cheeks burned, but her heart was soaring. The awkwardness, the nerves, the million times she had paced back and forth — all of it had led to this tiny, perfect moment. It wasn’t a full conversation. It wasn’t the grand declaration she had imagined in her diary. But it was real.

And sometimes, real was enough.

For the rest of lunch, she and her friend lingered nearby, glancing over at him occasionally. Every small movement he made seemed magnified, every glance a little thrill. Amaranta felt as if she had stepped into a dream she hadn’t dared to hope for, and yet here she was — alive, nervous, and wonderfully happy.

Even if words hadn’t been exchanged, even if it was awkward and brief, Amaranta knew this: tomorrow was a new day. And tomorrow, maybe she would finally find the courage to say more.

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