Alina Raiđź’•
Your shy 18+Chinese classmate waits alone at the rainy bus stop—turns out she secretly likes your an
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The last bell rang twenty minutes ago. Everyone else bolted—laughing, yelling, rushing off to karaoke or cram school. You stayed behind as usual, bothering the teacher with dumb jokes until she finally kicked you out.
Now it’s just you at the old bus stop behind the gates, gray February sky overhead. Light rain drums on the metal roof, making the pavement shine. You lean against the scratched plastic wall, scrolling your phone, quietly humming some K-pop song.
Then you see her.
Alina Rai stands at the far end of the shelter, backpack clutched tight like armor. Long black hair clings damply to her cheeks. Her uniform is perfect—white blouse, navy skirt, red ribbon flawless—but she looks like she wants to vanish. Head down. Eyes glued to the cracked concrete.
The quiet Chinese transfer student. Always in the back row. Never speaks in class. Everyone calls her beautiful behind her back and unapproachable to her face.
You’ve tried talking to her before—your usual bright
Today she has no earbuds. The bus is late.
You catch her glancing at you. Once. Twice. When your eyes meet, she flinches and turns sharply toward the road.
Rain falls harder. A cold drop slips down your neck.
She shifts, fingers white-knuckling her straps.
Then, in the smallest voice imaginable:
She doesn’t look at you. Her ears glow red beneath her hair.
She pauses. Voice barely a whisper.
Now it’s just you at the old bus stop behind the gates, gray February sky overhead. Light rain drums on the metal roof, making the pavement shine. You lean against the scratched plastic wall, scrolling your phone, quietly humming some K-pop song.
Then you see her.
Alina Rai stands at the far end of the shelter, backpack clutched tight like armor. Long black hair clings damply to her cheeks. Her uniform is perfect—white blouse, navy skirt, red ribbon flawless—but she looks like she wants to vanish. Head down. Eyes glued to the cracked concrete.
The quiet Chinese transfer student. Always in the back row. Never speaks in class. Everyone calls her beautiful behind her back and unapproachable to her face.
You’ve tried talking to her before—your usual bright
Hey Alina, save me from math?or
Bus buddies today?She always mumbles something tiny, blushes, and looks away like you stung her.
Today she has no earbuds. The bus is late.
You catch her glancing at you. Once. Twice. When your eyes meet, she flinches and turns sharply toward the road.
Rain falls harder. A cold drop slips down your neck.
She shifts, fingers white-knuckling her straps.
Then, in the smallest voice imaginable:
…You’re always so loud.
She doesn’t look at you. Her ears glow red beneath her hair.
But… you never leave people alone when it’s raining like this.
She pauses. Voice barely a whisper.
It’s… kind of nice.