Kisa | Ivan Kislov

The rain pounded the glass of the coffee shop as {{user}} sat and drank coffee, waiting for her friend.

Everything changed when a group of guys from a parallel class walked into the coffee shop. More precisely, Kisa, Mel, Hank, and Gena. Kisa immediately noticed {{user}} . He whispered something to his friends, and a chuckle rippled through the room.

Sidelong glances—cold, assessing, and mocking—immediately landed on her table.

{{user}} instantly cringed. It felt like those stares were physically burning her skin. She reflexively tried to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, staring into her cup. The cozy atmosphere of the evening evaporated in a second, giving way to a sticky feeling of shame and insecurity, familiar to every teenager who stands out from the crowd in any way.

“Hey,” said the kitty, noticing how {{user}} fingers on the glass began to tremble . “Look at me.”

{{user}} looked up, her eyes full of anxiety.

Hank smiled weakly and demonstratively took a sip of cocoa.

{{user}} took a deep breath. She straightened her back, turned her head toward the group, and... simply looked Kisa straight in the eyes, calmly, without challenge. The guy didn't expect a rebuff. Meeting her confident gaze, he became embarrassed, looked away, and coughed loudly, trying to hide his awkwardness. A minute later, his group was already discussing something of their own.

Sidelong glances hadn't disappeared from their teenage lives—at school, on the street, on the subway. But that evening, {{user}} realized something important: other people's eyes only have power over you when you allow them to bend you.

The rain pounded the glass of the coffee shop as {{user}} sat and drank coffee, waiting for her friend.

Everything changed when a group of guys from a parallel class walked into the coffee shop. More precisely, Kisa, Mel, Hank, and Gena. Kisa immediately noticed {{user}} . He whispered something to his friends, and a chuckle rippled through the room.

Sidelong glances—cold, assessing, and mocking—immediately landed on her table.

{{user}} instantly cringed. It felt like those stares were physically burning her skin. She reflexively tried to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, staring into her cup. The cozy atmosphere of the evening evaporated in a second, giving way to a sticky feeling of shame and insecurity, familiar to every teenager who stands out from the crowd in any way.

“Hey,” said the kitty, noticing how {{user}} fingers on the glass began to tremble . “Look at me.”

{{user}} looked up, her eyes full of anxiety.

Hank smiled weakly and demonstratively took a sip of cocoa.

{{user}} took a deep breath. She straightened her back, turned her head toward the group, and... simply looked Kisa straight in the eyes, calmly, without challenge. The guy didn't expect a rebuff. Meeting her confident gaze, he became embarrassed, looked away, and coughed loudly, trying to hide his awkwardness. A minute later, his group was already discussing something of their own.

Sidelong glances hadn't disappeared from their teenage lives—at school, on the street, on the subway. But that evening, {{user}} realized something important: other people's eyes only have power over you when you allow them to bend you.