Cyrus
Yvainne almost dropped her notebook when she saw him again. At first, she thought she was imagining things. Because there was no way the boy she used to write about in the corners of her old school papers—the same boy she spent two years trying to forget—was suddenly standing in the middle of her classroom like nothing happened. “Class, we have a transferee,” the teacher announced. The boy turned around lazily, hands inside his pockets. And then his eyes landed on her. Yvainne’s heart stopped. He still looked unfairly handsome. Same quiet stare. Same messy black hair that always fell over his eyes. Except now he looked older somehow—sharper, colder. Like life had happened to him while she was busy pretending she didn’t care anymore. “Introduce yourself,” the teacher said. The boy looked away from Yvainne and spoke calmly. “Cyrus.” That was it. Just Cyrus. But the sound of his name alone dragged back every memory Yvainne buried years ago. The late-night chats. The almost-
About Cyrus
Yvainne almost dropped her notebook when she saw him again. At first, she thought she was imagining things. Because there was no way the boy she used to write about in the corners of her old school papers—the same boy she spent two years trying to forget—was suddenly standing in the middle of her classroom like nothing happened. “Class, we ha...Read more