The gates of Chulalongkorn were always crowded in the morning. White shirts reflected the sunlight, hurried footsteps echoed across the ground, and tamarind leaves drifted softly onto the paths. Lena stood beneath the trees near the Faculty of Economics, a third year timetable folded in her hand.

She did not need to look at it. Lena's memory worked that way. One glance was enough to carve something permanently into her mind. Yet today, she lingered longer than usual. Not because she had forgotten her class.

But because Miu was starting her first year.

Her first day.

Lena had known for months. She had checked admission lists by faculty, traced enrollment years, even studied the announcements from the Art Club recruiting new members.

She quietly folded the timetable and slipped it into her bag. She adjusted the collar of her white shirt, slung her backpack over one shoulder, and then turned left.

The freshman orientation hall was in the Arts and Communication zone. Not her faculty. Not a place Lena needed to be.

But it was where Miu would be.

⸻

The Arts building carried a scent unlike any other. New paper. Acrylic paint. Wood from easels. Sunlight clinging to white curtains.

Lena stepped into the corridor. Light from the large windows dusted her skin in a soft golden haze. And then she heard it. A laugh. Not loud. Not special. But Lena recognized it immediately.

Miu.

The girl Lena had met once at a childhood party, then carried with her through all of secondary school, now stood in the main hall of the Arts building. She held a tube of drawings in her arms. Her hair was loosely tied, a few strands brushing her cheek. She was talking with a group of new friends, telling a story, hands moving with her words, eyes curving into crescents when she smiled.

Lena stepped back into the corner of the wall. She did not approach. She did not speak. She did not let herself be seen.

She only watched.

Miu had grown. Taller. Her features clearer. More alive than memory ever allowed. It was as if light followed her naturally, never the one who stood and looked.

Someone in the group said,
"There is a sketching session this afternoon. Do not be late, Miu."

Miu scrunched her nose. "I was not late. That day the traffic was really bad."

"It is always traffic on submission days, right?"
Laughter broke out.

Miu tapped her friend lightly on the arm. Her smile made the entire corridor seem brighter.

Lena remained silent. Her heart grew heavier by a single beat. She had imagined this moment hundreds of times. But none of those imagined scenes resembled reality.

Miu was radiant enough that Lena felt herself standing outside that world.

If she stepped forward and said hello. If Miu looked up and recognized her. If she smiled. Those were possibilities. Expectations. Lena did not allow herself to rely on things that were uncertain.

She was not someone who gambled with emotion.

⸻

Lena's Economics lecture began at nine. She arrived on time, took her seat in the third row, and wrote notes automatically. Everything appeared normal.

Except for one thing.

Alongside her own timetable, Lena memorized additional details.
The orientation schedule for first year Arts students.
The Art Club sketching sessions.
The distance between the Arts building and the Economics lecture hall.
And the time Miu usually left class.

Orientation ended. A classmate invited Lena to lunch.

"Central cafeteria?"
"We should eat properly."

Lena smiled politely.
"You go ahead. I want to walk around a bit."

"Want to come with us later?"

"It is fine. I like being alone."

No one pressed further. They all thought Lena was simply someone who valued her own space. No one knew she was keeping that space for someone else.

⸻

At midday, Lena returned to the Arts building. Students lounged on the steps, sketching or taking photographs.

Miu was not there. Lena did not feel disappointed. She had never been in a hurry.

Passing by the small exhibition room, Lena noticed students hanging their assignments. With a single glance, she recognized Miu's work.

Free.
Soft curved lines.
Color chosen by feeling rather than technique.

Not the most outstanding piece. Yet it made Lena feel calm.

Miu was still drawing.
She was still herself.

⸻

That evening, back in her room, Lena opened her laptop and searched through the list of art clubs.

It did not take long before she found a photo.

"New Member. Art and Design Club."

Miu stood on the right side, holding a sign that read New Member, smiling as if that day were the happiest of the month.

Lena enlarged the image. Not to see it more clearly. But to store every detail in her memory.

She did not follow Instagram.
Did not send a friend request.
Did not leave a comment.

That was not Lena's way.

She did not want to move too close.
Nor did she allow herself to remain too far away.

Between those two distances lay the safest place. The place where she could watch Miu most clearly without alerting her presence.

⸻

One week later.

Lena passed by the Arts building in the afternoon. The sky was overcast. Wind moved through the corridor, stirring the white curtains.

Miu sat on the steps, an earphone in one ear, one hand sketching on the board resting on her knees.

Lena stood a few meters away, pretending to look at her phone.

Miu lifted her head. Her gaze brushed past Lena for a brief second. Then she looked down again and continued drawing.

She did not recognize her.
She did not remember.

Lena felt no disappointment. No sadness. She turned away slowly.

And in her heart, Lena whispered,

"For now, it is fine if I am the only one who remembers you.
I have all the time in the world to make you remember me again."