Chapter 32: The Sound of Her Laughter
The late afternoon light draped itself gently over the school courtyard, painting everything in that soft golden hue that made it feel like a dream slowly folding into dusk. Anya stood by the vending machine, awkwardly fumbling with a coin that kept slipping from her fingers. It was ridiculous, how her heart could beat this fast just knowing Oriana was somewhere nearby.
The machine clunked and groaned before finally releasing a can of peach soda. Anya bowed slightly to it, as if in thanks, before turning around and—there she was. Oriana. Laughing at something one of her friends had said, her smile wide and unguarded. That laugh—Anya could hear it above all else. A note of sunlight in a world that had once been gray.
And then Oriana looked over.
Their eyes met, just for a moment, but it was enough to set Anya spinning again.
"Anya!" Oriana's voice cut through the crowd as she detached herself from her group and skipped over. "You still like peach soda, huh?"
"Y-Yeah," Anya mumbled, trying not to crush the can between her hands. "It's, um… sweet."
"Like you," Oriana said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Anya's ears went bright red.
They found a bench near the sports field, away from the noise and the noise within the noise. For a long moment, they just sat. Anya occasionally glanced sideways, catching the way Oriana's fingers moved when she talked, the way her hair shimmered with strands of gold under the light.
"Do you remember that first day we met?" Oriana asked suddenly.
Anya blinked. "Which one? I mean—the stairs?"
Oriana giggled. "Yes! You looked like a startled deer. So serious, too. I said hi, and you looked like I'd just asked you to solve the meaning of life."
Anya covered her face. "I was so embarrassed."
"I thought you were cute," Oriana admitted softly.
That silenced the wind.
Anya peeked at her through her fingers. "Why?"
"Because you weren't trying to be. You just… were. You're always you, and I think that's beautiful."
The silence after was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that asked to be held.
"I used to hate being noticed," Anya said, after a moment. "I still kind of do. But when you notice me, it doesn't feel scary."
Oriana tilted her head. "Then let me keep noticing you."
It was such a simple sentence, but something about it settled deep into Anya's bones. Like a promise, one she hadn't known she was waiting for.
The conversation drifted after that, like leaves on a lazy stream. They talked about the upcoming school festival, about their favorite childhood snacks, about the absurd things teachers said when they thought no one was listening.
Oriana leaned closer as she laughed at one of Anya's quiet jokes, and Anya felt her breath catch.
"You know," Oriana said, brushing a lock of hair behind Anya's ear, "your voice is soft, but it always makes me listen harder."
"I didn't think anyone ever noticed it," Anya whispered.
"I do."
A flock of birds scattered from a tree nearby, startled by some unseen thing. The world moved on. But here, in this moment, it felt as though time had decided to sit beside them and take a breath.
"Can I ask you something?" Oriana said, her tone suddenly unsure.
"Of course."
"What do I mean to you?"
The question wasn't flirty. It wasn't teasing. It was vulnerable. And Anya could feel her own heart stumbling over its answer.
"You… you feel like summer after a long winter. Like when I can finally open the window and breathe. You're the reason I even smile without realizing it."
Oriana blinked, startled by the quiet poetry of the words.
"And…" Anya paused, eyes dropping to the can of soda in her lap. "I think I'm… I think I'm falling for you."
There it was.
Oriana didn't laugh. She didn't gasp. She didn't look away.
She smiled. Softly. Slowly. Like a sunrise made just for her.
"I think I already fell," Oriana said, and then leaned in.
It was a kiss as shy as the girl who offered it, as warm as the one who received it. Lips brushing in uncertainty, then settling into something surer. The taste of peach soda between them. The sound of their hearts syncing quietly, hidden behind ribs too small to contain so much feeling.
When they parted, Anya couldn't look up. She didn't need to. Oriana was still holding her hand.
Neither of them said anything for a while. They didn't need to.
The sky was a spill of orange and pink above them, and the world—for once—was not asking anything of them. It was simply offering a soft place to land.
Later, when the lights from the sports field flickered on and the sounds of students heading home began to hum in the distance, Oriana rested her head on Anya's shoulder.
"You make everything quieter," Oriana whispered. "But in the best way. Like the silence that comes after a song you really love."
Anya smiled.
That night, long after they had parted ways and she was lying in her bed, Anya opened her sketchbook.
She didn't draw Oriana's face, not exactly.
She drew the shape of her laugh.
The warmth of her hand.
The curve of sunlight through her hair.
She drew how it felt to be seen—and loved.
Because sometimes, the heart knew how to speak better than the mouth ever could.