He heard Nazma's footsteps behind him, but his mind was too consumed by his own feelings. Every word she had uttered, every small moment in class earlier, kept looping in his head. The smile plastered on his face was hard to erase. Far too hard.
Simon repeated that sentence in his head, "Uh… yeah, sure." Over and over, the recording of Nazma's voice played like the most beautiful melody he had ever heard. His ears felt hot, throbbing in sync with his heart as it pumped happiness throughout his entire body.
He fought desperately to keep himself from jumping for joy right in the middle of the street. His excitement was so overwhelming that he nearly lost track of Nazma, who was walking a few paces behind him.
He lost all sense of time. The world around him seemed to fade, allowing him to walk within his own soundproof universe.
Only the sound of his breath felt real, clashing with the voice in his heart that kept whispering in disbelief: She asked me to walk home together. She… chose me.
Simon smiled to himself. A silly, wide grin that was impossible to hide.
Every now and then he glanced back slightly, just to ensure Nazma's shadow was still there. However, every time his eyes caught a glimpse of her, Simon immediately averted his gaze back toward the road ahead. His happiness was too vast, too overflowing, and he wasn't yet capable of sharing that intensity through a look.
A rain of flower petals continued to fall around them. Every falling petal became a small celebration of his heart's victory this afternoon. The bitterness of the school farewell loomed at the end of the road, but for this second, Simon only wanted to drown in the euphoria of being chosen.
Simon kicked a small pebble on the path, letting it fly far away as laughter erupted silently within him. Every step felt like it wanted to take flight, leaving the asphalt beneath his feet. He kept walking. He had to keep walking. He didn't want this beautiful vibration to simply evaporate.
Finally, Simon realized he had to hold his breath. He tried to hide his smile and dampen the increasingly wild thumping in his chest. Too happy. Too joyful. He desperately wanted to freeze time so he could stay in this moment forever.
He no longer cared about the hustle and bustle of the world around him. His focus was now singular: to continue this journey, letting his steps be guided by a feeling far too great to be explained with words. The rain of flower petals around them seemed to be the perfect decoration for a heart exploding with bliss.
***
Perhaps Celline was right. Simon probably never actually cared for me that deeply. Celline's sharp words kept echoing, judging my choice because Simon is younger. "Find someone else," she had said then, as if changing one's feelings were as easy as flipping a coin.
But are the numbers on a birth certificate truly that significant in matters of the heart?
That question kept spinning, carving a small hollow in my chest. It feels ridiculous if love must surrender to a count of years. I stared at the road ahead with a vacant gaze, trying to find justification amidst a logic that was starting to falter. If age difference is truly a chasm, why does this ache feel so real and suffocating?
I sighed, feeling a heaviness begin to crawl upward.
I tried to find traces of Simon in the faces of others, hoping to rediscover that same warmth, but the reality hit me hard.
Zemiro is so cold. He is like an impenetrable wall of ice, stiff and distant. He is the polar opposite of Simon, who always found a way to let warmth flow through a look or a word.
Now I am trapped in an irony of my own making. Being near Zemiro isn't healing the longing; instead, it makes me realize how irreplaceable Simon truly is. I am merely embracing the wrong shadow, and Zemiro's cold demeanor keeps reminding me that there is only one Simon, and he isn't here.
Why have I never been the one chosen when it comes to love?
***