Hidden in the Light

Est's POV

It was Friday afternoon when Ciize called—again—to ask for a ride from university.
She never takes the bus, avoids the metro like it's radioactive, and always has something dramatic to say about taxi fares.

Somehow, because of all these deeply convincing reasons, I've become her personal chauffeur.

We never wrote it down, but it might as well be a contract:
• Est picks Ciize up, drops her off, no questions asked.
• Ciize helps Est decorate photoshoots, and agrees to model whenever he needs her.

A delicate balance.
If one of us bails, we both lose.
She loses her rides.
I lose my model, my assistant, my free second pair of eyes.

So I got dressed—nothing fancy. Faded, loose-fitting jeans. An oversized white shirt. My glasses. A watch. A ring on my pointer finger, another on my pinky.
Keys in hand, I headed out.

⸻

She made me wait.
Of course she did.

I leaned against the car, the sky already melting into dusk. A spring breeze brushed against my face—soft, cool, and scented faintly with something floral, like the world was exhaling.

Everything felt still. Familiar. Predictable.

Until it wasn't.

Ciize finally appeared.
And she wasn't alone.

A guy walked beside her.

Tall—or maybe average. I wasn't sure.
He wore a loose beige T-shirt, dark-washed jeans, worn-out sneakers. A guitar hung casually over his shoulder. His hair was a mess, but the kind that looked intentional.

They were laughing.
Ciize bumped her shoulder with his. And the boy smiled.

Not the kind of smile that tries to charm.
Just easy. Effortless. Like breathing.

And for some reason, I noticed that.

When Ciize spotted me, she waved like she hadn't just made me wait forever.
"Est!"

She swung open the passenger door, tossed her bag into the backseat, then gestured to the guy.

"This is William, a friend of mine" she said. "He's in the music program. He needs a photographer. I figured—you know..."

William lifted a hand in a small wave.
"Hey. Nice to meet you. Ciize's told me a lot about you. And your work."

I glanced at her, then back at him.
"Hope she didn't exaggerate," I said, trying to sound casual. "Nice to meet you too."

I offered a faint smile, trying to shake the weird tightness in my chest.
"I'll give you my contact,Call me tomorrow—we can talk details."

"Sounds good," he said, pulling out his phone.

We exchanged numbers.
His fingers trembled slightly. Maybe from the cold.
Or maybe it was me.
I wasn't usually this awkward, but something about him... the way he didn't try—unsettled me.

Ciize climbed into the passenger seat like the car belonged to her, rolled down the window, and leaned out.

"You want a ride, William?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I'm close. Appreciate it though."

"See you!" she called, and we pulled away.

For a while, we drove in silence.
The stereo played something low and dreamy.

Then Ciize broke the quiet.

"So..." she said, watching me out of the corner of her eye. "He's cool, right?"

"Yeah. Seems chill," I replied, eyes locked on the road.

She grinned. "He is. And he's good—like, actually good. His songs are kind of... beautiful."

I nodded. "Good for him."

Ciize raised an eyebrow. "You're being weird."

"I'm always weird."

"True," she said, laughing. "But this is new-level weird."

I didn't answer. Just adjusted my glasses and kept driving.
The streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The city felt like it was holding its breath.
Or maybe I was.

⸻

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his voice when he said my name.
Soft.
Unforced.
Like it already meant something.

And the way he smiled—not to impress, not to perform. Just... real.

And I kept asking myself why I even noticed.

Heyy🧞‍♂️
Hope you like it. (Sorry, I made a few mistakes and had to fix them💫:(

Thanks for reading 💙🌠