Money.
Some people are born into it.
Others spend their whole lives chasing it.
And then there are people like me…
Who learn early that no matter how hard you try, the distance between "nothing" and "everything" is a gap you can't cross.
I grew up counting coins.
Not saving them—counting them.
Making sure there was enough for bread. Enough for electricity. Enough to survive one more day without asking for help we knew we wouldn't get.
My mother worked two jobs.
My father… wasn't around long enough to matter.
So by the time I entered high school, I already understood something most people my age didn't:
Life isn't fair.
And it never will be.
School wasn't a place for dreams.
It was a place where reality became clearer.
The rich stayed rich.
The poor stayed invisible.
And people like me?
We learned how to keep our heads down and not get in the way.
I didn't stand out.
I didn't want to.
Old uniform. Worn shoes. Quiet attitude.
That was enough to keep people from looking too closely.
And for a while… it worked.
Until the day she walked in.
The classroom door slid open just as the bell rang.
Everyone looked up.
Even the teacher paused.
And then she stepped inside.
You could tell immediately.
She didn't belong in the same world as us.
Not because she acted differently.
But because everything about her… was different.
Her uniform was perfect—clean, fitted, untouched by time.
Her posture straight.
Her expression calm.
And her eyes…
They didn't look around nervously like a new student's should.
They observed.
Like she was trying to understand a place she had never needed to be before.
Whispers spread across the room.
"Isn't that…?"
"She transferred here?"
"No way…"
Even I noticed.
Not because I wanted to.
But because it was impossible not to.
The teacher cleared his throat.
"Class, we have a new student today."
He said her name.
But I didn't hear it.
Not clearly.
Because at that exact moment…
Her eyes met mine.
And for a second—
Just one second—
It felt like the entire room went silent.
Then she looked away.
Like it meant nothing.
Like I meant nothing.
And maybe I didn't.
"Take a seat," the teacher said.
Out of all the empty desks in the classroom…
She walked toward mine.
Each step felt slower than it should have.
Heavier.
Like something I didn't understand was already beginning.
And then she stopped.
Right beside me.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked.
Her voice was soft.
Calm.
Too calm.
I shook my head.
"No."
She sat down.
Close enough that I could hear her breathe.
Close enough that I could feel something change.
And that's when I realized something I should have understood from the start:
Girls like her…
Don't sit next to people like me.
So whatever this was—
It wasn't normal.
And it definitely wasn't going to end well.