𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒
What happens when
𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐀 - the girl who mastered the art of being unseen,
stitched together with silence and scar tissue,
haunted by the ruins of love and friendsh...
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I could tell I was a bother to the girl next to me. Maybe I should've offered to switch seats—but with my motion sickness, that wasn't on the table.
"Ten minutes before we start," our homeroom teacher announced before settling back into his seat.
As if this bus ride wasn't already a form of punishment, I realized I'd left my medication bag behind.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Now I'd have to battle the nausea head-on, and everyone else? Well, they'd get a front-row seat to the tragic show—especially my seatmate, who hadn't so much as acknowledged my existence since we boarded.
She didn't even glance at me.
Am I really that unbearable? The thought barely lingered.
If I was going to survive this trip—if we were going to survive it—I'd have to break a few walls down.
Hers. And maybe a couple of mine too.
"You still haven't told me your name," I said, this time with more edge.
"Am I supposed to guess, or are you just trying to stay mysterious?" I added with a light grin. "If that's your thing, I'll just come up with a nickname for you."
She finally turned toward me, her expression unreadable."It's Samayara," she replied before turning away in a heartbeat.
"Oh, it's a really pretty name," I nodded, tilting my head towards her to make eye contact.
"You think so?" She turned back towards me.
"Yeah, it sounds beautiful. Would you mind telling me your full name?"
"It's Samayara Dashputra."
"It is indeed a pretty name, and it really suits you," I complimented, genuinely meaning it.
She nodded, thanking me, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her hair was silky and flawless, dark brown and thick. I had to fight the urge to stare—it was that captivating.
After a moment, I realized she'd caught me looking, and now she probably thought I was some kind of creep.
But she didn't say anything.
I considered explaining myself, but breaking the silence might make her dislike me. She seemed like an introvert who valued peace.
The wind slipped in through the window, carrying a whiff of her scent. Something sweet. Vanilla, maybe? Cupcake? It fits her.
Soft. Unassuming. Disarming.
I let the thought settle for a moment.
Until a male voice ruined it.
"Wanna watch Marvel?" Laksh asked, grinning like he was twelve.
Endgame. The guy picked Endgame for a bus ride. We watched in silence for a while, but I wasn't really in it. Not with my stomach flipping every five minutes and my head fighting gravity.
