My Quiet Transformation

My Quiet Transformation by Alemu Bedane

It was a typical afternoon when the knock echoed through my door. I had just returned from school, stomach still heavy with the aftertaste of snacks, the dull hum of the radio filling the quiet space of my small room. I hadn’t expected anyone. In fact, I rarely expected visitors. But as I opened the door, my eyes went wide. Three of the most beautiful girls from my class stood at my door, smiling at me like a sunbeam cutting through the gloom of my solitude.

I froze when I suddenly got head on them. They were smiling, their voices light as they spoke, but I remained speechless, just standing there in front of them. It wasn’t until one of them Leila, the leader, among them, spoke up that I realized they had a purpose. “We came to study with you,” she said, her voice sweet and firm.

“Study?” I muttered, still unsure if I was awake or lost in a dream. I had never been close to them, never thought I would be. “But I... I’m not good enough to help you.”

Her smile didn’t waver. She glanced at the others, who nodded in agreement. “We’ve been watching your grades. Biology, English and others as well. We know you’re good at them. We thought you could help us.”

I wasn’t sure of what they were saying about. How could they think that? I was just a guy who sat at the back of the class, barely speaking to anyone especially girls. But the polite thing to do, culturally speaking, was to let them in, so I stepped aside.

The four of us, filled my small room. The walls felt tighter now. My room had always been a refuge, a place where silence governed. But now, these girls, the brilliant communicators were slowly pulling me from my shell, one smile, one question at a time.

We started with biology. But somehow, with each answer I gave, I felt more confident, more alive. They would ask questions, and I would respond first hesitantly, but then with more clarity. They were helping me unlock something inside me; something I didn’t even know existed. I was speaking more, explaining things I had never considered in such depth.

As the weeks passed, we met regularly. But then, one of them, Leila, began coming alone, uninvited. Sometimes it was before our set schedule; sometimes after. She would find reasons to get me talking, teasing me, and pulling me away from my textbooks. One of the days I locked my door as if I have gone away and not at my home. But she was smarter than me and knew that I was hiding. “You’re hiding from me again," she would laugh, peering through the small gap in my door.

And I couldn’t resist. She would come in, and we’d study for a while. But before long, our conversations would drift to other matters, other things playful. I would catch her eyes beaming into mine, her playful bright smile, and somehow the textbooks would fade into the background. But I always fought it. I would remind myself, study first, fun later.

Then came the change. The feeling. It was a whisper at first, something subtle, something almost imperceptible. But over time, it grew. I started to feel it every time she came. My stomach fluttered when she knocked. My heart raced when she entered the room, as if I had no control over it. It wasn’t just the studying anymore. It was her.

At first, I thought it was just a passing thing.That couldn’t be anything serious. But the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus. She had become this constant in my life. I began asking myself, “What is happening to me?”

But Leila didn’t seem to know the struggle I was going through or she was igniting me into that unique feeling deliberately. She would come, laughing, joking, and pretending that nothing was wrong, all while I tried to keep my distance. Yet, every time she smiled, every time her voice rang through the room, my resolve weakened.

One afternoon, I couldn’t focus anymore. She had come, of course, and we were laughing about something playful. I caught myself staring into her eyes a moment too long. I had always been serious, always been cautious. But now, when she wasn’t around, I found myself missing her. Her teasing, her charm, it all made me feel something I wasn’t prepared for.

As I stared out of my window, waiting for the knock that was sure to come, I realized something. I didn’t want her to stop coming. I didn’t want things to return to how they were before.

And when her knock came again, the familiar rhythm of her fingers tapping against my door, I couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at my lips. Maybe I was ready now. Maybe, for the first time, I was ready to face whatever this feeling was.

The days blurred into each other, but the unease inside me only deepened. I couldn’t sit still. The air in my small room felt thick, suffocating even though the windows were wide open. I’d pace back and forth, dragging my feet as if the weight of my thoughts had rooted me to the floor. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but it was relentless.

I couldn’t eat, not really. The food sat there, untouched, as my stomach twisted with the gnawing discomfort that I couldn’t place. Every bite felt like it would choke me. Drinking was just as impossible; the water in my glass looked like a foreign substance, my hands too shaky to lift it to my lips. I could hear the sound of my own breath, shallow and quick, as if my body knew something my mind hadn’t figured out yet.

I couldn’t sleep either. Each night, I’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the emptiness of my room consume me. The quiet hum of the world outside only reminded me of how still everything felt, how out of reach the comfort of a normal life seemed. My thoughts spiraled, racing in circles, never finding an escape. “What is happening to me?” I whispered into the dark, but the silence offered no answers. I longed for the early morning shortening the night so that she would come and knock at my door. My eyes never closed even once, the feeling of sleeping has left me as it never comes again.

Before I knew, the morning birds began singing. Each of them competing with each other. I thought if they were wanting to shorten the night as I was. And then, there came the knock.

The sound, so familiar now, was like a small lifeline thrown to me in the vast ocean of my confusion. I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to reason. The door opened, and there she was. Leila. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air, a reminder that I wasn’t completely alone in this overwhelming mess of emotions. She didn’t say much at first just smiled that bright, disarming smile that never failed to make my heart skip a beat.

She’d come for a reason, or so she said. Something about forgetting a book or needing to study, but I could see it in her eyes. There was more behind it. She wasn’t just there for school. She never was. And somehow, I knew that. But I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to. Because her very presence, her playful teasing, her infectious laughter, it was exactly what I needed.

Somehow, in the midst of my confusion, her visits became the only thing that pulled me out of the haze. She’d create little distractions, asking me to help her find something she had “forgotten,” or asking about things that somehow consumed my attention. I liked how she could pull me from my focus so easily, but at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to resent her for it. In those moments, when we were searching for her “forgotten” book or debating over the smallest details, I found a sense of relief. A strange, almost electric relief that left me wanting more.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried to stay focused. It didn’t matter that I told myself again and again that I had to concentrate on my studies. There she was, just a few steps away, making everything else feel insignificant. I’d stand there, torn between my desire to stay disciplined and the magnetic pull she had on me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get distracted. But her voice, her laughter, the way she’d look at me with that playful glint in her eyes it was like a drug, and I couldn’t stop from taking the next dose.

And every time she left, the feeling would return. That sinking, confusing ache that wouldn’t let me go. I’d find myself walking to the window, looking out, wondering if she’d come back. The change that awoken me was maddening. And I didn’t want it to stop. The more she came, the more I seemed be pulled out of my chaotic world.

She visited me so often now, as if she had made it her mission to break through the walls I had built around myself. Her timing was always perfect. Arriving either right before or just after I had settled into my routine. She’d make some excuses creating that we would join in a play or a debate. It didn’t matter what the reason was. Her presence alone was enough to set everything into motion again.

Every time she knocked, my stomach would twist in knots. But this time, the feeling wasn’t as suffocating. It was... lighter. Her presence brought a strange kind of joy, like a spark that flickered inside me and made everything feel more alive, more vivid. Even though she could pull me away from my focus, even though I knew it was tilting from my previous stand, I liked to let her to join  me, I found myself hoping waiting for her next visit.