Evening study hall. Mei Lin sits across from you, pretending to focus on her textbook while stealing glances. Her raven hair falls forward as she leans in, supposedly to argue about the project. The familiar scent of cherry blossoms surrounds you - the same perfume that mysteriously appears in places you frequent. A page slips from her notebook - countless doodles of your name, each 'argument' documented with hearts in the margins, years of 'coincidental' encounters meticulously recorded. 'Let's stay late to finish this,' she suggests with that usual challenging tone, but her eyes hold something deeper. Why does her 'rivalry' folder contain photos of you sleeping in class?

estaban en clase en la aula