Chapter 26

Yoko

I stirred slightly, my body gradually waking from sleep. My eyes fluttered open, taking in the soft, morning light that bathed the room, and the empty bed beside me. The gentle hum of the hairdryer, coming from the bathroom, let me know Faye was already awake and getting ready for her Friday class.

I stretched lazily, propping myself up against the headboard, my eyes fluttering shut again for a brief moment, reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed.

Then, the bathroom door creaked open, and the familiar scent of Faye's shampoo wafted through the air. A soft smile spread across my face, even though my eyes remained closed.

"Good morning," Faye's voice, sweet as honey, filled the room. It was soft, laced with warmth and affection, and it made my heart flutter.

I opened my eyes slowly and found her standing there in her work attire, her presence so effortlessly captivating. "Good morning, beautiful," I replied, my gaze softening as I admired her.

She was dressed in something different today—a long denim skirt with a subtle slit down the middle, paired with a simple black sleeveless top. It was casual, yet so elegant. Her hair was half-tied up into a ponytail, while the rest cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face perfectly.

As she turned to face me, she tilted her head slightly, her warm smile lighting up her face.

"You look great today," I said, my voice filled with genuine admiration, as she walked over to my side of the bed and sat down on the edge.

"I suppose so," she replied, her tone playful, her slender but strong hands gently taking mine in hers. "I was well taken care of yesterday..."

Her fingers laced with mine, and I couldn't help but squeeze her hand softly. "You need to get up soon," she continued, her voice taking on a gentle, practical tone. "We need to head off for school."

I blinked slowly, not wanting this tender moment to end just yet. "Yeah, I know..." I murmured, my lips curling into a teasing grin. "But... just let me admire my girlfriend for a little while longer, will you?"

A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, as if she couldn't quite believe I was saying that.

Her eyes softened, and the warmth between us deepened. It was in the little moments, the shared glances and gentle teasing, that I realized just how lucky I was to have her by my side.

"Here," she said, reaching across the bed to hand me her clothes. "You can wear mine to school."

My heart fluttered at the simple gesture.

There was something about wearing her clothes that always made my heart skip a beat. It wasn't just the comfort or the fit—it was the idea of being wrapped up in a piece of her, in her style. It was a small thing, but it always made me feel so connected to her.

"Alright," I said, leaning in for a quick kiss.

But just as our lips were about to meet, she pulled away, and I blinked in surprise.

"No, Yoko," her voice was calm but firm, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You will not get a kiss from me if you don't get up now."

I pouted dramatically, pretending to be utterly crushed by her refusal. "What? No kiss?" I asked, overacting with a sigh, but she couldn't help but laugh at my antics.

"Okay, okay," I grinned, "I'm getting up now to change."

As I pushed myself off the bed, I shot her a playful wink. "But once I'm done, I'm coming back to get 10 more kisses from you."

I headed toward the bathroom, leaving her chuckling softly behind me. But I knew, no matter how silly our little games were, it was these moments—these quiet, tender exchanges—that made everything feel so right.

After changing and freshening up, I made my way downstairs, drawn by the rich scent of coffee. I found her in the kitchen, moving effortlessly around the space, preparing coffee just for me. I stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of her.

There she was—my tall, elegant, breathtakingly beautiful woman—completely at ease in the kitchen, her movements so natural, so fluid.

I had never imagined I'd be lucky enough to witness such an intimate moment. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through my chest as I watched her, her back turned to me, completely unaware of the soft smile spreading across my face.

At that moment, everything felt perfect. It was as though the universe had carefully woven together all the threads of our lives, each twist and turn leading us to this exact moment, where we could be each other's safe space.

It didn't matter how long it took for us to get here—what mattered was knowing that, every time I looked at her, time seemed to stand still. The world paused, leaving only the two of us, our hearts in sync, destined to share this beautiful, quiet space together.

"What are you looking at?" Faye asked, turning around with two cups of coffee in her hands.

I shook my head slightly, a smile playing on my lips. "Just admiring the view." I moved closer, taking the coffee from her and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "And claiming the kisses you promised me."

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "You're impossible," she teased, as we sipped our coffee, enjoying the quiet, peaceful morning together.

Sliding into her car, we were ready to head to school. But we both knew it would be awkward if we were seen arriving together.

"Drop me off around the corner from school," I suggested. "It'd be weird if someone sees us coming in together."

"Alright," she agreed, nodding as she started the engine, pulling away from the driveway.

The drive was accompanied by a comfortable silence, the radio playing softly in the background. I found myself lost in thought, thinking about how surreal this all felt—the beginning of our story and how far we'd come.

"What's the matter?" Faye's voice cut through the quiet, her tone laced with concern.

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Nothing, just thinking about how unreal all of this is... with you. I never imagined being here, in this moment with you. But I guess the universe always has its own plans for us."

As the car came to a stop at a traffic light, Faye reached out to gently cup my face, turning my head so that I was looking straight at her. Her eyes were soft, tender, filled with love.

"Me too," she whispered. "I'm so glad we met."

And then she leaned in, planting a sweet, gentle kiss on my lips. "That's the second one," she said, pulling away with a playful grin. "Does it feel real now?"

I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, it does." Without thinking, I leaned in to steal a third kiss.

As she was about to drop me off around the corner from school, I turned to her, holding her hands in mine. "Remember, Faye. I'm always here. No matter what."

She smiled softly at me. "I know you always will be."

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens today... it won't come between us. It won't affect you. You're stronger than you think."

She nodded, taking in the truth of my words.

I exited the car and waved her goodbye, standing there for a moment as I watched her car drive through the school gates and park.

My thoughts wandered as the day ahead loomed. I knew I'd be seeing Faye later, but my heart and mind were already with her, missing her presence.

I made my way to my locker, just about to get ready for my first lesson when Ink, as usual, decided to make her entrance in the least subtle way possible. She leaned against my locker, making me jump slightly.

"Jesus," I gasped, startled. "Can you please make some noise when you walk, Ink? You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking like she'd just found a hidden treasure. "You're not in your usual clothes again, Yoko."

I squinted at her. Sometimes I hated how she could read me like an open book, especially when it came to my wardrobe. "Yeah, and? What's it to you?" I said, trying to act nonchalant.

Ink's smirk only grew. "So, out last night with Ms. Tall-and-Cold?" she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I groaned internally. Of course, she would notice. I just wanted to get my books, not talk about my love life. "Keep it down, Ink," I whispered urgently, looking around. But it was pointless—everyone was too engrossed in their own little worlds.

She waved me off dismissively. "Stop acting like this, no one cares. So, tell me—how was your night with her?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep it casual. "It was fine. We just had dinner and watched a movie." I shrugged, hoping to end it there. "By the way, I don't think I'll join you guys for drinks tonight."

Her shoulders slumped dramatically. "Why?" she asked, in a voice that was just a little too sad to be genuine. "Got a date planned with Ms. Tall-and-Cold?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "God, your nicknames are terrible," I chuckled. "It's not like that, Ink."

She waved a hand dismissively. "What? It's the truth! She's tall, cold, and stoic to all of us."

Then she paused for dramatic effect. "Well, let me correct myself: she's tall to everyone, cold to all of us... except you." Ink's grin was unmistakable.

"You're impossible, Ink," I muttered, shaking my head.

She looked at me, practically glowing with mischief. "So? You've got a date or something?"

I nodded, though I hadn't really planned on it. It just felt right—Faye deserved something nice after the week we'd had. "Yeah, we're going out for dinner."

Ink pretended to be heartbroken. "Fine, then. You're going to miss all the fun and gossip tonight."

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Oh no, not the gossip! How will I survive without it?"

She laughed and winked at me. "Let me think about it," she said, before walking into the classroom with that same smug grin on her face.

I couldn't help but laugh. If Ink wasn't my best friend, I might've found her relentless teasing annoying. But for now, it was just one of the many things I loved about her.

The morning flew by quickly, and during lunch, I made sure to call and secure a table for us tonight. After confirming our reservation, a warm feeling spread through me—another evening with just the two of us, no distractions.

"What are you smiling at?" A familiar voice broke through my thoughts, and I reluctantly looked up from my phone.

There she was—Faye, my woman, standing there in all her glory, just like this morning. She exuded that same confident, distant aura, but I could see right through it, knowing there was so much more beneath the surface.

She squinted at me, then leaned in closer, almost like a strict teacher giving me a once-over. "Or should I ask, who are you smiling at?" Her voice carried a hint of curiosity and suspicion.

I couldn't help but play along, offering a faint, deliberate smile. "Not telling you."

She rolled her eyes immediately, making me chuckle. She'd once said she hated it when I rolled my eyes at her, but now she was doing it right back. Classic Faye.

"Anyway," I said softly, my voice trailing off as I glanced around to make sure no one was near. "I wanted to ask if you're free this evening."

She tilted her head, intrigued. "Yeah, I am. Why?"

"Well," I hesitated just slightly, "I thought maybe we could have dinner."

"At home?" she asked, her head tilting to the side.

I shook my head lightly. "Nope. Somewhere else. Away from here."

She paused, as though deep in thought, playing the part of the reluctant one.

Seriously? I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

"I know you're rolling your eyes at me in your head," she said, surprising me. It was as if she could read my mind—or at least my subconscious thoughts.

"Alright, let's do dinner tonight." Her smile warmed, and I couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Thank God," I muttered under my breath.

"I'll come and get you in the evening," I added, smirking. "Dress well."

My gaze lingered on her for a moment before we parted ways. Funny how we were walking away from each other, only to meet again in 10 minutes for our next class.

As the bell rang, I hurried to the classroom with Ink by my side. The moment I stepped in, my eyes instinctively sought her out—Faye. She was standing at the front of the room, poised and composed like she owned the space.

She turned her head and spotted me, offering a brief, subtle smile in acknowledgment. It was small, but it was enough. I made my way to my desk, heart a little lighter, and settled in, trying to push aside the warmth that her glance had ignited.

The class began soon after. Faye walked around, handing out a stack of mock examination papers. Her strides were measured, purposeful, like every step she took had meaning. When she returned to the front, her voice rang out with that familiar blend of confidence and authority.

"Today, we'll approach the lesson as if it's an actual exam," she announced, her tone firm but not harsh. "You'll work on these mock papers. I wouldn't stress over it—treat it as practice. This will give us a chance to see where you all stand."

She glanced briefly at the watch on her wrist, then looked back up. "You may begin now."

A quiet wave of groans swept through the class, followed by the rustling of papers. None of us had expected an impromptu test, but I could see the logic behind it. With mid-year preliminaries around the corner, it made sense that she'd want to assess where we stood.

I sighed, picking up my pen and organising my papers neatly on the desk. As I scanned the first page, I was met with the familiar headings: Unseen Poetry, Unseen Prose.

Two sections. Each offering two choices of text—one for poetry, one for prose. I skimmed through the passages quickly, eyes darting from line to line. A slow grin tugged at my lips when I recognised one of the prose excerpts.

Of course it's Tess of the d'Urbervilles, I thought to myself, suppressing a chuckle.

I didn't even need to read it in full. I knew it the moment I saw those distinct, melancholic descriptions that could only belong to Hardy's world.

With a quiet sense of satisfaction, I flipped to the questions, ready to begin.

I glanced up, letting my eyes drift toward the front of the room, and there she was—Faye.

Her gaze was already locked on mine, as if she'd been watching me long before I noticed. We shared a secret smile, one of those unspoken conversations only we could hear.

"I've got this in the bag," I told her silently with a playful raise of my brow.

"I know you do, Darling," her eyes seemed to reply, soft yet unwavering. The warmth of it lingered like sunlight breaking through a cold morning.

With that quiet encouragement, I lowered my gaze back to the blank paper in front of me. My pen met the page with steady confidence, words flowing more naturally than they had in a long time. Each answer was clear, concise, just as she'd taught me to be — methodical but not rigid, precise but not cold.

An hour in, I reached the Unseen Poetry section. Two unfamiliar poems stared back at me, but I didn't feel the usual wave of panic. Instead, I took a slow breath, letting my eyes trace the lines of the first poem. It was unfamiliar, yes, but it didn't feel foreign.

Maybe it was all those moments spent with Faye, pouring over pages of verse together. I'd hear her voice in my head now — not my own, but hers. Her voice, warm and deliberate, like a slow current guiding me downstream. Her narration was calm, thoughtful, and never rushed.

Suddenly, the words on the page began to make sense. Not just sense — meaning. Each line lifted itself from the paper and drifted into my mind with clarity I'd never had before. It was like seeing the world through her eyes. The metaphors clicked, the structure revealed itself, and I knew exactly what to write.

It's just like I've known this poem all along, I thought, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

I glanced up at her again, just for a second. She wasn't looking at me this time — she was focused on the class, her gaze scanning the room like she was keeping watch over all of us. But I knew.

She'd see me.

And that was enough.

My eyes lingered on the final stanza, heart skipping a beat as I read the words aloud in my mind:

"For you – I'll turn forever into now."

Something about it felt achingly familiar. My brows knitted together as I tried to place where I'd heard it before. Was it from a song on the radio? A line from a literary night I'd attended ages ago? Or perhaps a play I'd watched a few years back?

The answer hovered just out of reach, like a name on the tip of my tongue. I could feel it, but it wouldn't come. Frustration bubbled up, and I shook my head to clear it, forcing my focus back on the paper in front of me.

Stay present, Yoko.

The first question stared back at me:

"What is the poet's feeling when they wrote it?"

I tapped my pen lightly against the desk, the rhythm matching the beat of my thoughts.

Love — it had to be love. No doubt about it. The longing was practically etched into every line. Romantic love, unmistakably.

I chuckled quietly to myself, biting back the urge to scribble down something cheeky

"Hopelessly in love," my intrusive thoughts whispered. Tempting, but I knew better.

Instead, I ran my eyes along the lines of the poem again, slower this time, letting each word sink in.

If love was the surface, what lay beneath? Longing, maybe. A sense of urgency. Turning forever into now. Was it devotion? Sacrifice? The more I read, the more it felt like the poet was grasping at something fleeting — like catching the glow of a firefly in cupped hands.

Don't just scratch the surface, I reminded myself, leaning forward, eyes narrowing. Look between the lines. Listen to what it isn't saying.

"The life I lived before youWas black and white — no more, no less.I wandered, searching for colours,Like a soul lost in a colourless dream.

Each day bled into the next,The seasons shifting, mirroring my heart.Autumn's decay, summer's glow,Even spring's tender bloom —None could thaw the frozen core within me.It was winter all year round.

With restless hands and aching heart,I searched — no, I longedFor someone, somethingTo shatter the frostbitten stillness,To pour warmth and colour into my world.

Then, at the crossroad of fate —The streets alive with noise and motion —I saw you.You, who bore every markOf the one foretold in a thousand tales.

The world around me stirred awake.It was no longer black, white, nor grey.The sky stretched out in endless blue —Brushstrokes of life on a blank canvas.Traffic lights flickered green, yellow, red —Vivid colours I had forgotten to see.

With trembling steps, I moved closer.My heart, once cold, began to pound.The frost within me cracked and crumbled —Winter fled, and in its place, spring blossomed.

Your gaze met mine.In that moment, I prayed —The first true prayer of my life —Let time stop, just this once.

But I need no miracles now. For you, I would turn forever into now."

Something clicked in my mind — a quiet but undeniable revelation.

Beneath the surface, this poem wasn't just about love. It was a profound journey of transformation — from despair to awakening, isolation to connection, and longing to fulfilment. The "black and white" life symbolised emotional numbness and existential stagnation, with the perpetual "winter" mirroring grief or depression. But then, "you" arrived. Not just a person, but a catalyst for change — a symbol of love, self-discovery, artistic inspiration, or even a higher sense of purpose.

This presence revived the speaker's world with colour, warmth, and clarity, shifting their perspective. The transition from winter to spring hinted at rebirth, a shedding of the old for something new.

And the line "For you – I'll turn forever into now" captured it all — the surrender to the present moment, the willingness to seize it completely.

This wasn't just a love story. It was a meditation on healing, self-realisation, and the quiet, transformative power of hope.

A sense of pride swelled within me. I did that. I figured it out.

Grabbing my pen, I began making annotations on the paper, circling key phrases and scribbling down connections as fast as I could. The ideas flowed naturally now, my earlier confusion replaced by sharp clarity. I filled the blank page with my statement, each word more certain than the last.

But even as I worked, the poem lingered at the edge of my mind. It wasn't just the beauty of the words or the clever metaphors. It was something else.

This feels too familiar... I frowned, pausing for a second, the pen hovering just above the paper. Where have I seen this before?

It wasn't just familiar. It was personal.

Relatable in a way I couldn't quite name, like recognising a face in a dream but not remembering who it belonged to. I shook off the thought, telling myself to stay focused. But the feeling stayed with me — like the final line of the poem had reached past the paper and carved itself into me.

"Final 5 minutes," Faye's firm voice echoed through the classroom, breaking the stillness. Her tone was sharp but steady, the kind that made you want to pick up your pace without panicking.

I glanced at her, watching how she glanced at the clock with that look of quiet authority. My heart thudded a little harder — a familiar rhythm whenever she took control like this.

My eyes darted back to my paper, and I focused on my final paragraph, my pen moving as fast as my thoughts could manage. The seconds ticked away, but I stayed calm, my grip firm and my mind clear.

Then, the bell rang.

"Time's up, pens down," Faye announced, her voice cutting through the shuffle of chairs and the rustling of papers. "Please hand it in on your way out."

A wave of movement swept through the class as everyone scrambled to gather their things and submit their papers. I, however, took my time. No rush. No need.

I packed slowly, watching as my classmates formed a chaotic line at her desk. When the crowd thinned, I finally approached her, paper in hand.

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world paused.

I handed in my assignment, and as she reached for it, our fingers brushed — fleeting, gentle, but undeniably electric. The warmth of her skin against mine sent a jolt up my arm, like a current had run straight to my heart. I felt it skip, a breath caught in my throat.

Her eyes flickered toward mine, just for a second longer than necessary. My heart wasn't just skipping now — it was sprinting.

I turned to leave, my pulse still racing when —

"Yoko," she called out, her voice soft but sure.

I stopped in my tracks, pivoting slowly on my heel to face her. She stood there, arms folded, a small tilt to her head like she was about to say something profound. My heart thudded again, harder this time.

"See you later," she said, her gaze steady but warm.

A grin tugged at the corner of my lips, and I didn't even try to fight it. Instead, I leaned forward just slightly, eyes locked with hers, and whispered —

"Laters, baby."

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she rolled them playfully, her lips curling into a smile she tried (and failed) to suppress. It was a small victory, but it was mine. I felt like I'd just won something, something more than a glance or a touch.

The final school bell rang.

If there was a race to leave, I was in first place. I shoved my books into my bag, barely registering what I was packing. My heart was still stuck in that moment — the way her gaze lingered, the way our fingers met like it had been destined to happen.

"You're in a rush," Ink said, smirking as she eyed me, stuffing my bag like a maniac.

"Gotta go," I muttered, slinging the bag over my shoulder. "See you next week!"

I waved at her, barely catching her response as I sped toward the door. My mind was a mess of heartbeats and echoes of "Laters, baby" playing on a loop. I didn't even care where my feet were taking me, only that I was heading home to get ready for tonight.

But just as I rounded the corner, eyes still on the contents of my bag, I crashed — hard — into someone.

"Ah!" I stumbled back, bracing myself against the wall.

"Watch where you're going, dreamer."

I collided into something — someone — as solid as a brick wall. I stumbled back, muttering, "Sorry, my bad."

But they didn't move. Not an inch.

I looked up, expecting to see a face I'd recognise, but instead, I was met with sharp, unfamiliar features. Still, something about them felt off. Like staring at a puzzle where the pieces didn't quite fit, yet somehow you'd seen them before.

Her eyes were cold, her gaze sharp as glass. Her entire presence radiated an unsettling authority — distant, mighty, untouchable. I'd seen that kind of aura before.

And that's when it hit me.

Allison.

Our new principal.

My heart twisted in my chest, a slow, uncomfortable squeeze. Her reputation preceded her, but seeing her in person was... something else entirely. She looked exactly the way Faye had described her — elegant, untouchable, and annoyingly magnetic. I hated to admit it, but yeah, I could see why Faye had been drawn to her.

I kept my expression cool, burying the heat that had flared up in my chest.

"Please watch where you're going next time," she said curtly, her voice clipped and precise, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience in her day.

"Of course," I replied, matching her tone. "I'll be more careful."

Her eyes narrowed, studying me like she was trying to slot me into a category. Her gaze was far too calculating for my liking.

"What's your name?" she asked, her brows drawing together.

I hesitated for a beat too long, my jaw tightening. I didn't want her to know. Not her. Not her. But as much as I wanted to walk away, I knew she had the authority to figure it out regardless.

"Yoko," I finally said, my voice steady but laced with reluctance. "Yoko Apasra."

Her eyes lit up briefly — not with warmth, but with recognition.

"Got it, Ms Apasra," she said, and this time, she smiled. Not the cold, polite smile she'd worn earlier, but a warmer one. The kind of smile you'd think was friendly if you didn't know better. If you didn't know her.

But I did.

I knew that smile.

I knew exactly what it was capable of doing. I'd heard it before.

That smile was a facade. A mask. The very same smile that had torn Faye apart.

Disgusting.

I felt my stomach twist, bile rising in the back of my throat. My face must have shown it too because her eyes flickered with curiosity. She tilted her head and leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied me closer.

"What's the matter, Ms Apasra?" she asked softly, her voice like silk with a blade hidden underneath. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Oh, if only you knew...

I didn't flinch. Didn't blink. But in my mind, I was tearing that smile off her face. Ripping it away like old wallpaper. She wouldn't be smiling then.

But I played it cool. Gritting my teeth, I forced a polite smile so fake I could practically feel the plastic cracking.

"Nothing at all," I said sweetly, cocking my head just a little, mirroring her own move. "I should get going. Sorry again."

Without waiting for her response, I turned on my heel and walked away, each step sharp and deliberate. I didn't look back. Not once.

I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

But even as I left, I could still feel her eyes on me. Like cold fingertips trailing down my spine.

I hated that feeling.

And I hated her even more.