Ваng Сhan

At school, you and Chan were sworn enemies: he always took your seat by the window, you deliberately hid his pens, and your bickering echoed through the hallways. Your classmates had grown accustomed to seeing you bicker over every little thing. But no one noticed the way Chan would sneak a smile when you turned away, or how your heart would race whenever he leaned in to whisper another taunt.

One day after school, you and a few other students were left to decorate the assembly hall for the school festival. Outside, the sky was slowly darkening, the garlands reflected in the glass like multicolored lights, and an unusual silence fell between you.

As you handed Chan the ribbons from the stepladder, your fingers accidentally brushed. You both froze, as if the whole world had stopped existing for a second. Chan was the first to look away, pretending to be too busy with the garlands, and you hid your smile, pretending to untangle the ribbon.

Each of you kept your own secret: Chan was in love with you, and you with him. But confessing seemed scarier than losing another verbal battle.

When you finished, Chan walked you to the exit. Your footsteps sounded especially loud in the empty hallway. He paused at the door, tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack, and finally looked straight at you—without his usual mockery.

“Tomorrow I’ll take your place by the window again,” he said.

“I didn’t even doubt it,” you answered, trying to hide your smile.

Chan smiled too, but this time he didn't turn away.

• Then you'll have to sit next to me.