PERFECT (F4 THAILAND)

not yet (15)

The silence had returned.

Not awkward. Just... full. The kind of quiet that didn't need to be filled. Only the soft click of the turn signal and the occasional rustle as she shifted in her seat.

She had pulled out a notebook from her bag.
Didn't say a word. Just started writing.

He didn't ask.

Ren kept his eyes on the road, the streetlamps casting golden lines across her face as they passed. Her soaked hair was beginning to curl near the ends, clinging to her jaw. She still hadn't looked at him.

Typical

By the time they pulled up to her house,The porch light was glowing dimly, casting warm shadows across the front step. He shifted into park but didn't reach for the door. Neither did she.

Then, she moved.

Without a glance his way, she tore a page from the notebook, folded it once, twice-neat and quiet. Then she leaned forward and slid it onto the dashboard in front of him.

Still silent.

She just stepped out of the car, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Her figure disappeared quickly, slipping into the house like a shadow returning home.

He didn't move.

Not right away.

Ren stared at the folded note.

And then-almost reluctantly-he picked it up, unfolding the paper with slow, careful fingers.

Three words.
Just that.

"Thanks for today."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, the smallest smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

It wasn't sarcastic.

It was real.

From her? That meant something.

Because Rose didn't hand out thank yous like candy. She held them close. Guarded. Like everything else in her life. So for her to write it down-to leave it for him-meant she felt it.

And that...
That warmed something in him

He leaned back in his seat, eyes still on the note.

"She's some kind of girl," he murmured under his breath.

"Took you long enough."

He folded the note once more. Tucked it into his jacket pocket.

And drove away.

_____________________

The hallway echoed with footsteps and laughter-not the good kind.

Mocking.
Cruel.

Gorya's heart dropped the moment she realized-her shoe was gone.

One of the boys held it high, waving it like some sick trophy as they sprinted down the hall.
"Let's go!" he cheered.
The others followed, laughing, dragging each other along toward the old stadium.

"Hey!" Gorya shouted, already breaking into a run after them. "That's mine!"

But they didn't stop.

Rose walked to school, she saw some kids taking Gorya's shoe and passing it around, dragging her toward the stadium. She quickly ran after them.
.
.
.
.
Her lungs burned as she chased them through the empty corridor. Her sock slapped the floor, one shoe missing, the other barely keeping up. The shoe wasn't just a shoe.