📖 DIARY ENTRY

June 13th

by Elara (me, obviously)

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I didn’t plan to look out the window.

I wasn’t even thinking, honestly. My head was just... buzzing. That kind of quiet chaos that comes after crying for no reason you can explain out loud.

Breakup still stings.

Not like sharp pain — just dull, heavy. Like dragging a full suitcase of feelings up the stairs and pretending it’s light.

I’m tired of pretending everything is light.

Anyway, the sky looked weird today. Like it couldn’t decide between rain or heat. I had my headphones in but wasn’t playing anything. Just letting the silence feel like a choice.

Then the noise came.

A moving truck.

A familiar laugh.

Boxes on the sidewalk.

A family I hadn’t seen since I was... what? Ten?

And then I saw him.

I froze.

Literally, like every single cell in my body went: you’ve gotta be kidding me.

He’s taller now.

Same hair. Same smile, somehow. Still soft around the eyes like he never learned how to look mean.

He was wearing black and eating a popsicle like the summer didn’t already make him too charming.

I ducked.

Not gracefully either. More like threw myself onto the floor like a war flashback just hit.

That was Calem.

From next door.

From years ago.

From childhood.

We never talked.

Not once.

He was always with his little siblings or playing soccer in the yard. I was always... watching.

And now, he’s back. And he saw me. I swear he saw me.

And I hate that my heart remembered him before my brain did.

I won’t talk to him.

I don’t care how warm his eyes look now. I don’t care if his voice sounds like everything I’ve been aching to hear.

We’re strangers.

We’re still strangers.

Right?

– Elara (aka me being dramatic but this is my diary I’m allowed.)

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So.

Guess who my parents just had to reconnect with?

Yeah.

Them.

One second I’m in bed overthinking, the next I hear my mom call my name like she’s summoning me to war.

I peek out the window and boom — she and dad are outside smiling like it’s a family reunion in a drama series. And who are they smiling at?

Calem’s family.

Yup.

Apparently, moving back to the neighborhood earns you a warm welcome and full-on life updates on the lawn.

And of course, my mom calls out:

“Elara! Come meet them!”

I tried to act like I was asleep.

Didn’t work.

A minute later, she was at my door like some horror movie jump scare.

“Get dressed. Don’t be rude.”

And baby, let me tell you — nothing humbles you more than standing in front of your childhood crush in a wrinkled hoodie with emotional eye bags under both eyes.

He smiled at me.

Smiled.

Like it was natural. Like we didn’t just skip 6 years of life.

“Hey,” he said, soft. Like he actually meant it.

“You look... different.”

My heart: BOOM.

My mouth: “Yeah. You too.” (WHY did I say it like a robot?!)

There was this pause.

Just a flicker.

I looked at him and for a split second I felt it.

Something.

I don’t know if it was nostalgia, recognition, attraction, or just my soul slapping me across the face for ignoring the obvious.

But I did what I do best.

I looked away.

Brushed it off.

Pretended I felt nothing.

“It’s good to have neighbors again,” his mom said.

“Especially ones we already know.”

Yeah. Know.

Except we don’t.

Not really.

But when I turned to go back inside, I felt his eyes on me. Like he was still trying to figure me out.

Or maybe just remembering how quiet I used to be.

Still am.

Only now my silence is louder.

I won’t fall for him.

I don’t care how kind his smile looks.

I don’t care if he remembers the girl I used to be.

I’m not that girl anymore.

Right?

– Elara

(currently avoiding eye contact like it’s a full-time job)

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📖 Sonder

Diary entry – June 15

By: Elara

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I don’t know what’s worse —

That I saw him again today…

Or that a part of me wanted to.

It started early — around 9am, which, for summer break, is basically hella early.

I hadn’t even brushed my hair yet. I was just sitting on my bed, staring at nothing, replaying last night like some movie I wasn’t ready to pause.

His smile.

His voice.

That "you look different" line that keeps echoing in my brain like a broken record with a soft beat.

And then the sound came — boxes being dragged across concrete, the kind of laughter only siblings have, and his voice. Deeper than I remember. Still gentle. Still... him.

I got up.

Not because I care.

Just curiosity. Observation. Research. Whatever makes it sound less obvious.

I peeked through the window. Slowly. Casually. Like I wasn’t acting like a full-blown stalker.

And there he was.

In a faded black t-shirt, messy hair pushed back with one hand, holding a tiny pot of lavender like it wasn’t the softest thing a boy has ever done.

My stomach flipped.

I’m blaming it on the cereal I didn’t eat.

I shut the curtain like I touched something hot.

Told myself: No. No, Elara. Stop. This is nothing.

---

A few hours later, my mom casually waltzes into my room with that look on her face — the “I need a favor and you’re my only victim” expression.

> “We’re giving kimchi to the neighbors. You’ll take it over.”

I blinked at her like she just asked me to walk barefoot through fire.

> “Why me?”

“Because you need fresh air. And because it’s polite.”

“You go then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s your age.”

I froze.

> “He?”

My mom smirked. Smirked.

Like she knew what my brain just did.

> “Yes, the boy. Calem? You remember him.”

Oh, I remember.

Trust me, I remember.

She handed me the container and practically shoved me out the door.

I almost turned around three times, but my pride walked me to the porch like it had something to prove.

I rang the bell.

Instant regret.

The door opened — too fast, like he’d been standing there.

And there he was.

In soft lighting. Hair damp. Probably just showered.

And smiling.

> “Hey,” he said, voice like velvet.

“You came back to see me?”

Dead.

I froze, trying to think of something that didn’t sound like "your voice is making me lose basic vocabulary."

> “No,” I mumbled, holding out the container like it was a cursed object. “Kimchi. From my mom.”

He took it, our fingers brushing.

I pulled my hand back too fast, like an idiot. He didn’t flinch though.

He just smiled deeper. Like it meant something.

> “Thanks. You still don’t like talking, huh?”

I blinked.

> “You remember that?” I asked, voice way too soft.

He shrugged.

> “You were always quiet. But never invisible.”

Butterflies. Full riot.

I wanted to say something clever.

Something cool.

Instead, I panicked.

> “Okay bye.”

I turned around and nearly tripped over the step.

I didn’t look back.

I felt him watching me though — the way someone does when they’re trying to memorize you.

Or maybe I imagined it.

Maybe.

---

Now I’m in bed, overthinking again.

His voice is still playing in my head like background music.

“You were always quiet. But never invisible.”

Who says that? Why would he say that?

What does it even mean?

I don’t like him.

I just… hate how he makes silence feel like something beautiful.

I hate that I noticed the way his shirt clung to his arms.

I hate that he remembered me.

I’m not crushing.

I’m not.

I’m just... confused.

Right?

— Elara

(currently wrapped in a blanket and a whole lot of denial)

📖 Sonder

Diary entry – June 17

By: Elara

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Basic facts I wish I could ignore:

I’m Elara Ji, I’m sixteen, and I have a resting leave me alone face.

My parents are strict. My older brother is worse.

I recently had my heart broken by a boy who said I was "too much and too distant," which is honestly iconic of him.

Calem Edevane is seventeen, and apparently back in town with his pretty eyes, stupidly soft smile, and unfairly good memory.

We used to live next to each other.

We never really talked.

Until now.

I’ve been writing in this notebook every night since he came back.

Not because I like him.

I just need somewhere to put this feeling I don’t have a name for.

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Today it rained.

Not the dramatic, thunderstorm kind — just that soft, almost-whisper drizzle that turns everything gray and dreamy. The kind that makes you think of old songs you don’t remember learning the words to.

And maybe that’s why I thought about it.

That day.

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✨ Flashback – 7 years ago

I was around nine, standing on our porch in socks, trying not to cry.

My mom had just scolded me for “talking back,” when all I did was ask why my brother could stay out past seven and I couldn’t even have a sleepover.

I remember blinking too fast, trying not to let the tears fall, because I hated how quiet everything felt afterward. I hated how small I felt.

That’s when I saw him.

Calem.

He was standing on his own porch — this skinny kid with messy hair and a juice box, staring at me like he saw everything.

We didn’t say anything.

Not one word.

He just stood there, then looked away slowly like he was pretending he hadn’t seen me cry.

But something about the way he looked at me…

Like he knew.

Like he understood.

I never forgot that.

And maybe he didn’t either.

---

Now he’s taller. Broader.

His voice makes the air feel heavier.

But when he smiled yesterday…

I saw it.

That same look.

That same softness.

And now I’m spiraling again because... why does it feel like he’s picking up a conversation we never had?

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I saw him again this evening.

Not on purpose.

(Okay, maybe 30% on purpose.)

He was outside their gate, holding an umbrella over his sister while she tied her shoelaces.

Like a scene from a K-drama I’d roll my eyes at, except it was real.

And he looked up.

He saw me watching.

I turned away too late.

He waved.

Like it was normal.

Like we’ve always waved.

Like he hasn’t been gone for six years and didn’t just waltz back into my world and make it weirdly soft.

---

I keep telling myself it’s nothing.

Just some unresolved childhood connection.

A glitch in my hormones.

A moment.

But…

Why do I remember the way he held that umbrella?

Why do I care?

And what if — what if this is something starting?

I’m not ready for that.

Right?

— Elara

(who is 100% not overthinking every single thing he does, thanks.)

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