Pages of a One-Sided Heart

three

He was really good at math, while I had a knack for English. It was one of those things that subtly set us apart but also brought us together. I still remember the day I worked up the courage to ask him for help with a particularly tricky math problem. My heart raced as I approached him, but when I finally asked, he just smiled—*that* smile—and agreed without hesitation.

We struck a deal: he’d help me with math, and in return, I’d help him with English. It seemed like a fair trade, and for a while, it was perfect. We spent time together, our heads bent over textbooks, pencils scratching across paper. I cherished those moments, each one filling me with a quiet happiness that I couldn’t quite put into words.

But then everything changed when the pandemic happened. The world shifted, and so did we. We moved to online classes, and the distance between us grew, not just physically but emotionally too. We drifted apart, caught in the uncertainty of those strange, isolated days.

And when the world started to piece itself back together, he was gone. He had transferred to another school, just like that. No goodbyes, no explanations—just a sudden, empty space where he used to be. I found out through a friend, and the news hit me like a punch to the gut. One moment, we were study partners, sharing small secrets and dreams; the next, he was out of my life entirely.

I tried to pretend it didn’t matter, that it was just the natural course of things, but I couldn’t fool myself. I missed him. I missed the way he’d patiently explain equations that twisted my brain in knots, and the way his face would light up when I helped him with an English assignment. Those memories became bittersweet reminders of a connection that never had the chance to grow.