Returning to his old school, James didn't head to the second floor like he usually did—his brothers were still in class.
Instead, he wandered around the campus, drawn toward a vibrant patch of flowers—each one swaying against the zephyr alive with color.
He stood quietly, watching the flowers sway, the clouds drift, and the sunlight filtering through the branches above.
James was relaxed—not thinking about anything just watching in silence, being one with nature.
''Life is truly beautiful'' , he said in a low voice.
He was at peace not worrying about the system, not thinking about his addiction, but just living in the moment.
He leaned against the railing, time slipping by unnoticed. He didn't know where Summer was. He didn't care. Not right now.
"Hmm? James?"
A soft, familiar voice pulled him out of his daydream.
James snapped back to reality, and looked behind him—the direction of the voice.
"Beautiful..." he breathed, stunned by the sight before him.
A girl stood before him—long black hair tied with a violet ribbon, a pink puff-sleeved blouse tucked into a flowing white skirt.
Her face bloomed like a rose, lips a soft peach, eyes deep and clear—somewhere between a starlit sky and morning dew.
Summer Heartfelia.
She held a small pink purse in one hand and three books pressed to her side with the other.
"Hmm? What was that now?"
Julia questioned the now still James.
"It—it's nothing, Summer. Hey."
James rubbed the back of his neck, flustered.
"What are you doing here? It's still early. Your brothers are in class, right?"
Julia said out of curiosity while tilting her head slightly.
"Oh I was just looking at the scenery, I sometimes forget that everyday things we see on a daily basis still exude beauty and gives me a thought that life is more than the big things, even just this flower over there , although surrounded by leaves it didn't dilute its beauty one bit."
James remarked as he stared into the scenery once more.
Summer just listened to James's input not interrupting—just listening. Even this little action speaks a lot more than words could.
"I know what you mean," Summer replied softly. "Since moving here from the capital, everything feels brighter somehow. Beauty really is in the quiet places."
A sudden breeze stirred her hair. Loose strands escaped her ponytail and fluttered around her face.
She tucked them back with a soft smile.
And James's heart skipped.
He knew it then. He was in love.
Every motion felt slow, like time bending around her. Every word—music.
All James wanted now was for time to stop so that they could be in this moment forever.
"Summer... let me help," James said, adjusting his glasses.
"Oh, no need—"
"Please. I insist."
She laughed softly, fingertips brushing her lips.
"Well, if you insist... I can't refuse."
She handed him the books, and together they walked side by side down the hallway.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"How's work been, Summer?"
James asked, glancing at her sideways.
"It's been good," she replied with a smile. "I'm really grateful my aunt gave me this job. It's an opportunity to learn from her. Honestly... my dream has always been to teach children. To become a teacher and help foster a new generation of learners."
James listened to her voice like it was a soft classical melody, soothing and full of warmth.
"That's amazing," he said. "It's nice that you already have such a clear path for your future."
Summer tilted her head slightly, curiosity in her eyes.
"What about you, James? What do you want to be when you grow up?"
James looked away, his smile fading just a little.
"Me? ...Truth is, I've never really thought about it."
"Really?" she said gently. "Well, what motivates you, then? There's got to be something."
James grew quiet. His thoughts drifted to his parents.
His mom—selling soaps, household items, anything to earn a bit more. His dad—always tired, coming home late from plumbing jobs. He remembered overhearing their whispered conversation late one night:
"We just need to hold on a little longer. We can't let the kids see us struggling."
That memory stuck with him—burned into his mind.
Being the eldest, hearing your parents talk like that... it changes you.
He clenched his fists slightly.
"My parents," James finally said. "They're everything to me. Even when things were tough, they always put us—me and my siblings—first. I want to help them. That's my motivation, even if I don't know what I want to become yet."
His voice had grown heavier, more sincere.
Summer looked at him softly.
"That's a beautiful reason, James. Even if you don't have everything figured out, the fact that your heart is already set on helping them... I'm kind of jealous, to be honest."
James turned to her, surprised.
"Jealous? Why?"
Summer hesitated, then looked down, her voice quieter.
"It's nothing, really..." she said, then took a deep breath.
"I just... grew up with separated parents. Each had their own families. I always felt like a ball being passed around. Like I didn't really belong anywhere. Like I was just... a product of their mistakes."
Her eyes stayed down, fingers brushing her skirt absentmindedly.
James didn't speak right away. He just stood there, a little stunned by how much she'd just revealed.
They'd only met yesterday. Barely a day ago, she was just another stranger.
Now, here they were—sharing pieces of their past like old friends. Like something more.
He looked at her again. She was still staring down, brushing her fingers lightly against the fabric of her skirt.
"I... didn't know," James said softly. "I mean, we just met yesterday, but... hearing that, it makes me wish I could've been there. Even back then."
Summer looked up, confused.
"Been there?"
"Yeah," he said, looking away for a second, then back at her. "To tell you that you weren't a mistake. That... you mattered, even if your parents didn't know how to show it."
Summer's lips parted slightly, surprised.
"You're really kind, James."
"I'm not," he muttered with a nervous laugh. "You just caught me at the start of trying to be better."
The breeze passed again, rustling her ponytail, and her hand rose to brush the baby hairs away. It was such a simple gesture, but James found himself mesmerized—again.
Summer noticed the way he was looking at her. Her cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, but she didn't look away this time.
"It's strange," she said quietly. "We've only known each other for a day, but… I feel like I've talked to you more deeply than people I've known for years."
James nodded.
"Maybe it's easier with someone new. Someone who didn't grow up seeing all your worst moments."
"Or maybe," Summer said, smiling softly, "it's because we both needed someone right now."
James looked down at the books in his arms. Then back at her.
"Summer?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad we met."
She blinked—then smiled again. A soft, warm smile.
"Me too, James."
And just like that, without another word, they kept walking down the hallway, side by side. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was calm. Comforting.
Like the world had paused just a little—for them to exist in this small, quiet moment.