Monday mornings were usually the worst.
That was a general rule. Aylin believed in it strongly.
But this Monday felt… less bad.
Not good. Just—less bad.
She noticed it while walking to school, which was strange. Nothing had really changed. Same streets, same people, same quiet air that hadn't fully woken up yet.
Still.
Less bad.
She got to class at 7:52.
Kerem was not there.
That was normal.
Aylin sat down, arranged her desk the usual way, and took out her notebook—but didn't open it. She just rested her hand on top of her textbook and stared at nothing for a bit.
The classroom slowly started filling up.
7:55.
7:58.
8:01.
Kerem still wasn't there.
Also normal.
He walked in ten minutes into the lesson.
"Sorry," he said, same tone as always.
The teacher didn't even respond this time.
Kerem dropped into his seat beside her, slightly out of breath like he had actually rushed.
Aylin glanced at him for a second.
"You're late," she said quietly.
"Observant," he replied.
She looked back at the board.
"…You were early last week."
"I know."
That was it.
No excuse this time.
Halfway through the lesson, something unusual happened.
Kerem took out a pen.
And actually started writing.
Aylin noticed immediately.
She didn't mean to. It just happened.
He wasn't copying everything. Not even close. Just a few lines here and there, like he was picking the parts he thought mattered.
It was… effort.
Small effort, but still.
After a few minutes, he leaned slightly toward her.
"Which part are we supposed to write?" he whispered.
Aylin blinked.
"…All of it."
He made a face. "Be serious."
"I am."
He stared at the board, then back at his paper.
"…Okay but like… the important parts."
Aylin hesitated.
Then, very quietly, she tapped a line in her notebook with her pen.
"This," she said.
Kerem leaned a little closer to see.
"Alright," he muttered, and copied it.
Aylin moved her notebook slightly so he could see better.
She didn't think about it too much while doing it.
By the end of the class, his notes were messy.
Incomplete.
But they existed.
That was new.
Second period was worse.
Math.
Kerem gave up almost immediately.
"I don't get this," he said under his breath, staring at the numbers like they personally offended him.
Aylin kept writing.
"You didn't even try," she said.
"I did. For like… ten seconds."
"That's not trying."
"It is for me."
She sighed, putting her pen down for a second.
"Which part?"
"All of it."
Aylin turned slightly toward him.
"Okay," she said. "Look."
She pointed at his paper.
"You do this first."
He leaned in again, closer this time, actually paying attention.
"For real?"
"Yes."
"…Alright."
He followed what she said, slowly, like he was expecting it to go wrong.
It didn't.
"…Wait," he said. "That actually worked."
Aylin nodded once. "Yeah."
He looked at the paper, then at her.
"…You're good at this."
She looked away almost immediately. "It's just math."
"Yeah but still."
Aylin didn't answer.
But she didn't feel like correcting him either.
Lunch was… normal.
Mostly.
Except this time, when Aylin stood up to leave—
"Hey."
She turned.
Kerem was sitting on his desk, not eating, just scrolling through his phone again.
"Do you always sit alone?" he asked.
Aylin paused.
"…Usually."
He nodded like he expected that.
"Come sit here," he said, gesturing vaguely to the empty space near him.
It wasn't a big group.
Just two other guys, talking loudly about something she didn't care about.
Aylin hesitated.
"I'm fine," she said.
"Alright," Kerem shrugged. "Your loss."
She nodded and walked away.
But she could feel him watching her for a second before he looked away.
Last period was quieter.
Everyone was tired.
Even Kerem.
He didn't talk much. Didn't tap his pen. Just sat there, staring at the board without really looking at it.
At some point, Aylin slid her notebook slightly toward him again.
Not fully.
Just enough.
He noticed.
Didn't say anything.
Just looked at it, then at her for a second.
Then copied a few lines.
When the final bell rang, no one moved immediately.
That kind of end-of-day pause.
Aylin packed her things slowly.
Kerem didn't.
He was just sitting there.
"You okay?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He looked at her.
Like he hadn't expected that.
"Yeah," he said after a second. "Just tired."
Aylin nodded.
That made sense.
Even if it felt like there was something else behind it.
They left the classroom at the same time.
Walked down the hallway together without really planning to.
"You're not that bad, you know," Kerem said suddenly.
Aylin frowned slightly. "Not that bad?"
"Yeah."
"That sounds like an insult."
"It's not," he said. "It's like… a compliment. Just a low-level one."
Aylin almost smiled.
"Thanks," she said, very flat.
He grinned a little.
At the school gate, they slowed down.
Different directions.
Same as before.
"See you tomorrow," Kerem said.
"See you."
Aylin walked home alone again.
Same streets.
Same pace.
But this time, she was thinking about something.
Not the notebook.
Not school.
Just—
That sentence.
You're not that bad.
It was a stupid sentence.
Not even a good compliment.
And yet—
It stayed with her the whole way home.
That night, she opened her notebook.
Read a few pages.
Then turned to a new one.
She stared at it for a while.
Then wrote:
"He wasn't as careless as everyone thought. Just… tired in a way that didn't go away with sleep."
Aylin paused.
Then kept writing.