STARMOTE

When it transcended from just a crush into full-blown love, I never really knew.

I was a senior in high school, and she was my junior. I had a thing for her even from my junior days. We’d catch each other’s eyes for a moment—just long enough to make it mean something. I knew she had a thing for me too.

But there was a complication.
She was the daughter of one of my class teachers.

And me? I was the “good” student. Class representative. School prefect. The perfect senior—at least on paper. Surrounded by friends, carrying what I believed was some kind of “head senpai aura.”
(Which, in hindsight, was probably just confidence mixed with teenage delusion.)

She was the queen of our school.
No—scratch that—she was the most beautiful girl in the entire district.

Guys from other schools would line up near the gate just to catch a glimpse of her, trying their best to impress her. None of them succeeded.

Except… maybe me.

And that? That was a high.

Being the only one in her line of sight—it does something to you.

When the list of selected candidates for junior high was posted, I went looking for her name like a man possessed. My friend just stared at me and said,
“Dei… are you in love?”

I think that was the day I realized I was.

From then on, I would walk behind her with my friends until she reached the turn toward her house. That was our routine. That was enough for me.
(Which sounds romantic, but also slightly like low-level stalking, now that I think about it.)

One day, she sent a message through a girl in my class:
“If he wants to talk, tell him to come alone. Why is he following me with an entourage?”

Fair point.

So I did.

She stopped, looked at me—half smile, half irritation—and asked, “What?”

I said, “Chumma.”
Just like that.

She smiled and walked away.

And somehow, from that day on, in my head… she was my girl.

No one else tried anymore. People knew me, knew my friends, and kept their distance. Whether it was fear, respect, or just school politics—I didn’t question it.

Then one day she said,
“Enough is enough. At least say something. How long are you going to just show up like this?”

So I did.

“I love you,” I said.
“I don’t need to know if you love me back. I won’t ask you to. I just… needed to say it. I didn’t have the courage before.”

She froze for a moment.

Then her face softened—shy, almost unsure.

She didn’t say anything.
Just looked away, her face slightly red—like she didn’t want me to notice.
Which, of course, made it impossible not to.

She turned back once, with a small smile she didn’t fully let happen.

And somehow… that was enough.