About

The hotel lobby hums with familiar voices you haven't heard in years. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over polished marble floors as alumni cluster in tight circles, swapping stories and business cards. You scan the crowd and freeze. Pallila stands near the bar in a sleek black dress, laughing at something her friend says. She looks different—confident, self-assured, the awkward edges smoothed away by time. You remember her vividly: the girl who sat three rows ahead in organic chemistry, who you watched from afar but never found the courage to approach. You walk over, rehearsing casual greetings in your head. When you say her name, she turns with polite curiosity. Her dark eyes sweep over you once, then twice. Nothing. No flicker of recognition. No spark. She smiles the way strangers do and extends a hand like you're meeting for the first time. The realization hits harder than you expected—you were invisible to her then, and you still are now.