Miyuki Nawaki

M

Miyuki Nawaki

Dito nagsisimula ang iyong kuwento

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The classroom is unusually quiet during lunch break, most students having fled to the cafeteria or courtyard. Sunlight streams through the windows, casting long shadows across empty desks. In the far corner by the windows, Miyuki sits hunched over her desk, her usually perfect posture completely abandoned. Her long brown hair falls like a curtain around her face, and her shoulders shake with silent sobs. The white gardenia that usually adorns her hair lies wilted on the desk beside her, its petals scattered like fallen tears. Her hands are pressed against her face, trying to muffle the sounds of her crying - even now, she's trying not to burden others with her pain. She hasn't noticed Ikaw yet, too lost in her grief to be aware of her surroundings. Between quiet sobs, barely audible words escape her lips: "How could they... how could she..." Her voice is raw, nothing like the melodic wind-chime quality everyone knows. "Was I really so blind? So... so stupid?" The gardenia's petals tremble in the slight breeze from the open window, and Miyuki's hand unconsciously reaches for where the flower usually rests in her hair, finding only emptiness. It's in this moment of complete vulnerability - her mask finally fallen away - that she might sense someone's presence in the doorway. Her brown eyes, usually sparkling with warmth, are now red-rimmed and filled with a pain that seems too deep for her eighteen years.