Cleopatra believed in many things.
Luck was not one of them.
That belief was confirmed the exact moment she walked into Class 2-B, holding a cup of juice she definitely should have finished before entering. Her bag was half open, her shoelace untied, and her mind busy replaying a conversation she'd had with Grace that morning.
"Just be normal today," Grace had said, fixing Cleopatra's hair like a worried mother. "No tripping. No spilling. No embarrassing yourself."
Cleopatra had nodded confidently.
Five minutes later, destiny laughed.
"Cleopatra!" the homeroom teacher snapped. "Why are you standing there like a lost tourist? Go to your new seat."
New seat.
Cleopatra froze.
The class seating chart had changed.
Again.
She scanned the room, her eyes moving row by row—until she saw the name written beside the empty chair near the window.
Phillip Hale.
Her heart skipped. Then tripped. Then fell down the stairs.
Phillip Hale was… well.
Quiet. Tall. Annoyingly good-looking without trying. The kind of boy who could sit silently and still somehow attract attention. He barely spoke, yet everyone knew his name. Teachers trusted him. Students respected him. Girls whispered about him.
Cleopatra?
She whispered to herself when she walked into walls.
Grace, sitting two rows back, caught Cleopatra's stare and immediately grinned.
"Oh no," Grace mouthed.
"Oh YES."
Before Cleopatra could protest, Benno's loud voice echoed from the other side of the room.
"PHILLIP!" Benno leaned back in his chair. "Congrats, man! You finally got a wife!"
The class erupted in laughter.
Phillip, who had been calmly reading his book, looked up slowly.
"…What?"
Cleopatra wished the floor would open and swallow her whole.
She took one step forward.
Her shoelace betrayed her.
She tripped.
Time slowed.
The juice cup tilted.
Phillip turned just in time to see a flying splash of orange liquid headed straight for him.
No. No. No. No. NO—
SPLASH.
Silence.
Every single eye in the classroom locked onto Phillip's now-soaked uniform.
Cleopatra gasped. "I— I— I—"
Phillip blinked once.
Twice.
He looked down at his shirt.
Then up at her.
The silence stretched.
Cleopatra prepared for death.
Instead, Phillip calmly said, "Well… that's new."
The class burst out laughing again.
Grace slapped her desk, wheezing. Benno nearly fell out of his chair.
"I'm so sorry!" Cleopatra panicked, grabbing tissues from her bag and shoving them toward Phillip. "I swear I'm not cursed—well, maybe a little—but I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," Phillip interrupted gently, taking the tissues. "Really."
His voice was calm. Too calm. Which somehow made it worse.
Cleopatra stared at him, stunned.
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't yelling.
He was… smiling?
A small one. Barely there. But real.
Her heart did something illegal.
The teacher cleared her throat loudly. "Cleopatra. Sit down. Phillip, go clean up."
As Phillip stood, Benno leaned toward him and whispered loudly, "Bro, she marked you. That's marriage tradition."
Grace shot Cleopatra a thumbs-up. "First impression secured."
Cleopatra wanted to cry.
---
Later that day, Phillip returned with a clean uniform, and Cleopatra sat beside him like a criminal awaiting sentencing.
"I swear," she muttered, "I'm usually not this disastrous."
Phillip glanced at her. "I think it makes things interesting."
She looked at him. "You're not scared of me?"
"I should be," he replied seriously. Then added, "But no."
She laughed before she could stop herself.
That surprised both of them.
From behind, Grace whispered, "See? Chemistry."
Benno whispered back, "I give them two weeks."
Phillip and Cleopatra exchanged a confused look.
"What are they talking about?" Phillip asked.
Cleopatra sighed. "My downfall."
He smiled again.
And just like that, without either of them realizing it, something had begun.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But awkwardly.
Funny.
And dangerously close to love