"I didn't think I could ever be brave
until I looked out and remembered
someone believed in me
long before I believed in myself."
Dear Diary,
Today, I stood in front of the whole class
and spoke with a voice I used to keep in my pocket.
My hands trembled as I unfolded the script.
The classroom felt too sharp —
like a place meant for louder people.
But I remembered something he said,
just last night through the thin garden fence:
"You don't need to roar, Wunor.
The world already leans in to listen to your whisper."
And somehow,
those words followed me into the room.
Our project was on the table —
the little eco-home made of hope and mistakes.
Glitter still clung to the cardboard roof.
I read our piece slowly,
letting the words breathe:
"This is not just a house.
It is a place that catches the rain,
and keeps the light.
A house that lets things grow
—even the quietest things."
I saw Jia smile like the sun was inside her.
Lina clutched the drawing she made of our tiny team.
And in the window —
far behind everyone else —
I saw him.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
But he'd asked my teacher if he could stop by during his free period.
I think he knew this was hard for me.
I think he wanted to be the reason it was a little easier.
His gaze met mine — soft and steady.
Like he was catching me mid-fall and saying,
"You're okay. I'm here."
When I finished, there was quiet.
Then clapping.
Then Jia whooped and Lina teared up and someone said,
"She's got poetry in her spine."
But all I could think was —
he saw me.
Not the performance.
Not the polished project.
Me.
And I never knew
you could fall in love all over again
just because someone showed up
when it mattered most.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🏠🌸📝