10 year of Silence

Saturday morning arrived with the kind of restless quiet only a rainy weekend could bring. The borrowed umbrella leaned against the side of my desk, its dark blue fabric still faintly damp at the edges. I had wiped it dry the night before, but it still carried a hint of rain—the scent of wet asphalt mixed with something faintly familiar, like soap and traces of cologne. I kept glancing at it, unable to ignore the fact that it wasn't mine. It belonged to him. Ren Jiayun.

I hadn't realized until I set it down in my room how strange it felt, having something he had touched. Something he had handed to me without hesitation. I replayed his words in my head more times than I wanted to admit. Keep it. I like the rain. I wondered if he truly meant it or if it was just something he said to make the moment easier. He didn't seem like the type of boy who thought too deeply about small gestures. Maybe he would forget about the umbrella entirely. Maybe it hadn't meant anything to him at all.

But to me, it meant everything.

Monday came faster than I expected. The sky had cleared, but the cool breeze still carried the faint smell of lingering rain. I slipped the folded umbrella into my bag before leaving for school. The walk felt longer than usual as my thoughts kept circling around what I'd say to him. Should I thank him again? Should I simply hand the umbrella back without a word? Or should I wait until after class when fewer people were around?

By the time I reached the school gates, my nerves were tight. Class 10-B was already buzzing when I stepped in. Some students were talking loudly about the weekend, while others buried their heads in last-minute homework. And there he was—by the window, as always. Ren Jiayun sat with his chair tilted back, balancing lazily on two legs while spinning his pen in one hand. His gaze was turned toward the courtyard outside, distant and unreadable. Sunlight framed him again, soft and warm this time instead of harsh. For a moment, I just stood in the doorway, clutching the strap of my bag. I didn't know if I should go over to him.

But before I could decide, he looked up. Our eyes met—not by accident this time. His gaze lingered, calm and unreadable, before he nodded, just a slight tilt of his chin, as if to acknowledge me. Then he turned back to the window, his pen still spinning between his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures, but it was the first time he'd looked at me since the rain.

I made my way to my desk, heart beating a little too fast. I pulled the umbrella from my bag and set it on the corner of my table, unsure if I should walk over and give it back before class started. But the teacher entered before I could gather the courage.

The morning passed in a blur of equations and notes. I tried to focus, but my gaze kept drifting toward the back corner where he sat. He didn't speak much during class; he never did. But sometimes his friends leaned in to whisper something to him, and he would smile—a small, knowing smile that made people curious about what he was thinking.

When the lunch bell finally rang, I hesitated. This was my chance. I took a deep breath, picked up the umbrella, and stood. But before I could take a step toward him, he was already on his feet. He slung his bag over his shoulder in one smooth motion, exchanged a few words with his friend, and walked straight toward the door. My chest tightened with disappointment. I sat back down, clutching the umbrella in both hands. Maybe I'd give it back after school. Maybe it wasn't the right time yet.

I walked to the courtyard with my lunch and found my usual spot beneath the banyan tree. The sun was out again, warming the damp grass. I opened my lunchbox quietly and began eating, trying not to think too much about it.

But then a shadow fell across my notebook.

"Is this your usual place?"

I looked up. He was standing there, holding a small carton of juice in one hand, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His uniform was still perfectly imperfect—tie loose, sleeves rolled up carelessly.

I blinked. "Uh… yes."

He dropped down beside me, sitting with one knee bent, his elbow resting on it. He took a sip of his juice and glanced around the courtyard before looking back at me.

"You didn't give it back this morning."

My fingers tightened around the umbrella beside me. "I didn't want to interrupt."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Interrupt what? I wasn't doing anything."

I hesitated, unsure how to respond.

Then he leaned slightly closer, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You were waiting for me to ask, weren't you?"

Heat crept up my neck. "No! I was just—"

"I'm joking."

His laugh was low, soft but unexpectedly warm. It wasn't the careless laugh he shared with his friends in class. It was quieter, almost private.

I placed the umbrella between us. "Here. Thank you for lending it to me."

He took it casually, folding it with one hand before setting it beside him. "Did you get home okay?"

"Yes."

"Good."

The conversation could have ended there. But he didn't move. Instead, he leaned back against the tree trunk, stretching his legs out. "You really like sitting here alone?"

I nodded. "It's quiet."

He hummed in thought. "Most people don't like quiet. It makes them uncomfortable."

"I don't mind it," I said softly.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying me. Then, after a moment, he said, "You're different."

The words were simple, but they made my pulse quicken. Different. Was that good? Was that bad?

Before I could ask, one of his friends called from across the courtyard.

"Ren! We're heading to the gym!"

He turned his head slightly, waved a hand in acknowledgment, then stood. But before leaving, he looked at me again.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Yixin."

It was the first time he said my name. And just like the rain, it left something behind that wouldn't go away easily. He walked off, joining his friends with the same easy confidence he always carried, leaving me under the tree with my half-finished lunch and a heart beating just a little faster than it should.

That afternoon felt warmer somehow. Because now, he wasn't just Ren Jiayun, the boy by the window. He was Ren Jiayun, who noticed where I sat, who remembered my name, and who chose—at least for a moment—to sit beside me. And maybe… maybe tomorrow would be different too.

---