Chapter 7

Chapter 7 — The wounds we carry

When I came back home from the trip, I couldn't stop smiling.

The whole journey kept replaying in my mind.

The temple.

The autumn leaves.

James holding my hand.

His confession.

And the way he had stayed beside me when I was sick.

I wanted to tell someone everything.

The moment I entered the house, I found my brother Eric and my sister sitting in the living room.

"You're finally back!" Eric shouted.

I dropped my bag and immediately started telling them everything.

"The trip was amazing! We went to Kiyomizu-dera, and the streets were so beautiful. And then—"

I stopped.

I realized I had started talking about James again.

Eric raised an eyebrow.

"Wait a minute. Is James the new popular boy in your class?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

My sister gave me a teasing smile.

"Ohhh, so that's why you've been saying his name so much."

"No! It's not like that."

Eric laughed.

"So what is he like?"

I thought for a moment.

"He's... annoying."

They both laughed.

"Then why are you smiling?"

"I'm not!"

My sister looked at me suspiciously.

"You definitely are."

Eric suddenly said, "You told us he's always surrounded by girls, right?"

"Yes."

"Is he handsome?"

I looked away.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, yes."

They both started laughing.

My sister put her hand over her mouth dramatically.

"Ohhh, Yuri has a crush!"

"I don't!"

"Then why do you keep talking about him?"

I didn't have an answer.

Before I could say anything, my mother walked into the room.

She had been listening for a while.

"Who is this James?"

I froze.

"Oh... he's just a new student."

"A new student?"

"Yes. He joined our class recently."

My mother looked at me for a moment.

"You've mentioned his name many times since you came home."

My face became warm.

"Mom!"

My siblings started laughing again.

"Okay, okay," my mother said with a smile. "But your end-term exams are coming. Enough for today. You need to focus on your studies."

That sentence immediately brought me back to reality.

The exams were only a month away.

I couldn't let myself get distracted.

So, from the next day, I became serious about studying.

No more wasting hours thinking about the trip.

No more replaying James's confession again and again.

At least, that was what I told myself.

The next morning, I reached school and walked into my classroom.

Jack was standing near the teacher's desk, distributing the photographs from our trip.

Everyone gathered around him.

"Give me mine!"

"Wait, that's mine!"

"Jack, don't lose my pictures!"

I laughed and walked toward them.

Suddenly, Nick shouted from the back of the classroom.

"HEY! Look at this!"

Everyone turned toward him.

He was holding up one of the photographs.

"James and Yuri!"

I looked at the photograph.

It was the picture someone had taken when James and I were walking down the hill, holding hands.

My heart stopped.

Nick immediately shouted,

"YURI AND JAMES ARE WALKING HAND IN HAND!"

Everyone started making noises.

"Woooooo!"

"OHHHH!"

"Look at them!"

I could feel the warmth spreading across my cheeks.

Lia came beside me and looked at the picture.

"They actually look really good together."

"Lia!"

She laughed.

Before I could say anything else, James walked into the classroom.

Lily immediately shouted,

"Wooo! Another one!"

James looked confused.

"What?"

Nick held up the photograph.

"Look at you and Yuri."

James looked at it and smiled.

Then he looked at me.

I quickly looked away.

I don't know why, but sitting beside him suddenly felt different.

I could feel my cheeks burning.

I tried to hide my smile.

James leaned toward me.

"Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Shut up."

He laughed.

And somehow, that small moment made me even happier.

Later that morning, Mrs. Erina, our chemistry teacher, gave us a group assignment.

"Yuri, James, Lia, and Michael," she said. "You four will work together. I think you can help each other."

We all agreed.

We sat together in the classroom and started working on the project.

I was sitting beside James.

The classroom was quieter than usual because everyone was busy with their assignments.

James looked at his notebook.

"Yuri."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not able to draw this graph properly."

He pushed the notebook toward me.

"Can you make it for me?"

I smiled.

"Of course."

I took his notebook and started drawing the graph carefully.

He watched me for a moment.

"You're really good at this."

"It's just a graph."

"Still."

I smiled.

For a while, everything felt perfect.

Then James got up and went to talk to some girls from another class.

I watched him from the corner of my eye.

They were laughing about something.

I don't know why, but I suddenly felt angry.

I looked down at my assignment.

Michael was sitting beside me.

"Let's just finish this," I said.

He nodded.

We continued working.

I tried to concentrate on the project, but my eyes kept moving toward James.

He was still talking to those girls.

I felt something heavy in my chest.

Then James came back.

He looked at me and smiled.

But then he noticed that Michael and I were laughing about something.

His expression changed.

"Why are you so happy with Michael?"

I looked at him.

"What?"

"You were laughing with him."

I stared at him.

"You were busy with those girls."

He frowned.

"So?"

"I don't know."

My voice became quieter.

"Forget it."

He looked confused.

"Yuri, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

I didn't answer.

Suddenly, he said,

"You're overreacting."

The moment I heard those words, something inside me broke.

My eyes filled with tears.

Not because of what had happened that day.

But because those words brought back something I had tried so hard to forget.

Overreacting.

I hated that word.

I had heard it before.

Many times.

When I was little, I didn't understand why adults expected so much from me.

I was just a child.

There were days when I came home exhausted from school because my syllabus felt too heavy. I didn't always understand my homework. Sometimes I made mistakes.

And whenever I tried to explain myself, I heard the same thing.

"You're overreacting."

"Why are you crying over such a small thing?"

"Stop being so emotional."

I didn't understand what I was supposed to do with all those feelings.

I was only a little girl.

Sometimes, I wanted someone to simply ask,

Are you okay?

Instead, I learned to hide my tears.

I learned to stay quiet.

I learned that if something hurt me, I should pretend it didn't.

But the feelings never disappeared.

They stayed somewhere inside me.

And now, years later, one sentence from James had opened that old wound again.

"I'm not overreacting," I whispered.

James looked shocked.

"Yuri, I didn't mean—"

But I couldn't listen anymore.

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Michael stood up.

"James, that's not what you think."

James looked at him.

"What?"

"You misunderstood her."

I wiped my tears quickly.

"I hate it when people misunderstand me."

My voice shook.

"I hate when someone makes me feel like my feelings aren't important."

James stepped closer.

"Yuri..."

But I moved away.

"I need some time."

I walked out before he could say anything else.

I spent the rest of the day avoiding him.

During lunch, James tried to come toward me, but I sat beside Lia.

She didn't ask too many questions.

She simply stayed with me.

James knew I was upset.

He tried to talk to me several times, but I kept looking away.

I wasn't angry because he had talked to other girls.

I wasn't even angry because he had misunderstood me.

I was hurt because, for a moment, he had made me feel like the little girl I used to be.

The girl who was always told she was too emotional.

Too sensitive.

Too dramatic.

Too much.

I didn't want to be that girl anymore.

When the final bell rang, I packed my bag quietly.

James stood near the classroom door.

"Yuri, can we talk?"

I stopped for a second.

But I couldn't do it.

"Not today."

Then I walked past him.

On my way home, I kept thinking about everything.

Maybe I had overreacted.

Maybe James hadn't meant to hurt me.

But my heart still hurt.

And for the first time since our trip, I wondered whether falling in love with someone also meant giving them the power to hurt parts of you that you had spent years trying to heal.

I reached home and closed my bedroom door.

I sat on my bed and looked at the photographs from the trip.

There was one picture of James and me holding hands.

I touched the corner of it gently.

A small smile appeared on my face.

Even after everything, I still cared about him.

Maybe that was the problem.

I cared too much.

And I was beginning to understand that love wasn't always just about beautiful memories.

Sometimes, it brought your old memories back too.