The first time Maya noticed Liam, he was sitting alone under the old cherry tree behind Ridgewood High, headphones in, sketchbook open, lost in a world that seemed softer than the one everyone else lived in. She had walked past him a hundred times on her way home, always pretending not to stare, always wondering what he was drawing with that serious little frown of concentration.
One breezy Friday afternoon, when pink petals were falling like slow rain, fate decided Maya had been shy long enough. A sudden gust of wind snatched the sheet of music she’d been reviewing for choir practice and sent it tumbling—straight toward the cherry tree.
It landed on Liam’s sketchbook.
He glanced up, pulling out one headphone. “Uh… I think your music just assaulted me,” he said with a half-smile.
Maya laughed, cheeks warming. “Sorry! The wind attacks anything that’s not nailed down.”
He handed her the page, his fingertips brushing hers, light as a whisper. “You sing?” he asked, nodding at the sheet.
“Yeah—well, I try,” she said, trying not to sound breathless.
“You’re good,” Liam replied immediately, as if it wasn’t even a question. “I hear you practicing sometimes. You sit on that bench over there.” He pointed to a spot she didn’t think anyone ever noticed.
“You listen to me?” Maya whispered, surprised.
His ears reddened. “Not on purpose. But… your voice makes the tree feel less lonely.”
Something in her chest fluttered. She sat down beside him, the falling petals settling in her hair. “What are you drawing?” she asked, peeking carefully.
He hesitated before turning the sketchbook toward her. “It’s unfinished,” he warned.
Maya’s breath caught. It was a drawing of the cherry tree—every branch delicate and alive—but standing beneath it was a girl with a music sheet in her hands, her smile small but bright.
Her.
He had drawn her.
“I—wow,” she murmured. “Why me?”
Liam swallowed, eyes dropping. “Because you look like you belong here. Like the tree recognizes you.”
Maya didn’t know what to say, but her hand found his on the grass, fingers brushing lightly. He froze, then slowly relaxed beneath her touch.
For a moment, the world was nothing but rustling branches and soft wind.
Then Liam cleared his throat. “Actually… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
Maya’s heart pounded. “Okay.”
He looked at her with eyes as unsure as they were hopeful. “Next Saturday… there’s this street festival downtown. Music, lights, the whole thing. I was wondering if you’d… go with me?”
Maya smiled so wide she felt the joy fill her whole body. “I’d love to.”
His shoulders eased, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it for weeks. Just then, a cluster of blossoms drifted down, landing on both of them like the tree itself was giving its blessing.
As they sat together under the pink canopy, Maya realized something unexpected: sometimes love doesn’t arrive with fireworks or grand declarations—it begins quietly, with a lost music sheet and a boy who sees you when you think no one does. They love never drifted apart , they enjoyed each other company .
End .
