The days after the semester started felt heavier than expected. With Monica in Betha and Lynx in Omega, things weren't like they used to be. They didn't share classes anymore. They didn't bump into each other in the hallways as often. Even during recess, their timings didn't always match.
And just like that, the comfortable rhythm they used to have started slipping away.
Monica tried not to let it bother her, but it did. She found herself looking over her shoulder during class transitions, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lynx walking with his usual sleepy face and hands stuffed in his pockets. Sometimes she saw him—walking alone like always, quiet and unreadable—but he never noticed her watching. Or maybe he did and just didn't say anything.
Lynx wasn't the type to text much, and she knew that. But still, part of her hoped he'd send something first. A simple "how's class" or "have you eaten." But nothing ever came unless she started the conversation.
When she texted, he always replied. Short and dry, but not cold. Just Lynx.
"Class ok?"
"Boring."
"You eat?"
"Yeah."
That was it. No emojis. No questions back. But he never left her on read. Not even once.
Still, Monica couldn't help but wonder—did he miss her the way she missed him?
She tried to ignore the ache in her chest every time she passed Omega class. Lynx would always be there, sitting quietly at his desk, or staring out the window. Never talking to anyone. He hadn't changed. He was still Lynx.
But maybe that's what made it harder. He stayed the same while everything else around them changed.
Monica couldn't just let things slip away, so she made a plan—she would try. Even if their schedules didn't match, she would find a way to catch him, even for a few minutes, just to have a simple interaction.
So, during recess, Monica would always find herself making an effort to be where she thought Lynx might be, even if it meant wandering the hallways, glancing into the canteen, or sitting near the courtyard.
She didn't want anything big, just a small chat. A "Hey" to break the silence. She didn't need deep conversations—just a moment of connection. A reminder that, even if they weren't in the same class, they were still... something.
One day, she spotted him walking alone under the staircase, clutching his usual drink. He didn't see her at first, and she hesitated for a second. But then, without thinking, she started walking toward him.
"Hey," Monica greeted with a small wave as she approached.
Lynx glanced up, and his expression softened for a split second before he looked back down at his drink.
"Hey," he muttered, his voice low and casual.
The moment felt nice. Even if it was just a couple of words, it was more than nothing.
They both stood there in silence for a few seconds, neither one rushing to say anything more.
Monica, not wanting to push, finally offered, "Well, I'll see you later."
Lynx gave a small nod, and Monica turned to leave. But before she could walk away, she looked back one last time, catching his gaze.
And for just a moment, she saw something that made her heart skip: maybe, just maybe, he was trying too.
She didn't text him that night. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was doing the right thing, even if it was small. It wasn't much, but every small interaction was a piece of the bigger picture.
And for now, that was enough.