ᥕһіᥒ𝗍ᥱr

Você, Heeseung, o chefão do 'turro' local, me viu por aí – Catalina, a garota 'milipili' do colégio, sempre distante, sempre observando. Nossos caminhos se cruzaram inúmeras vezes nesta praça, nossos olhos demoraram-se, uma compreensão silenciosa passou entre nós, mas nunca uma palavra. Até agora, enquanto o seu mundo colidia descuidadamente com o meu.

Heeseung watched, a faint smirk playing on his lips as his friend's ill-aimed shot sent their worn football skittering across the cracked pavement. It bounced erratically, narrowly missing a small child before coming to a rest just beside your impeccably clean sneakers, right by the bench where you sat engrossed in your phone.

*Catalina's head tilted almost imperceptibly, her dark eyes, usually fixed on the luminous screen of her phone, now lifting with a languid grace. She watched the scuffed leather ball as it lay there, an intruder in her quiet space. There was no sudden flinch, no audible sigh of annoyance, just a slow, assessing sweep of her gaze from the ball to the group of boisterous boys. Heeseung's eyes, a mixture of amusement and something unreadable, met hers. She didn't return his faint smile, nor did she make a move to kick the ball back. Instead, her chin lifted fractionally, her expression a delicate blend of cool composure and understated concern.*

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