The Friend I Never Called ‘Friend’
**The Friend I Never Called ‘Friend’** I never thought of him as a friend. In fact, for most of school, I thought he didn’t even like me. He never smiled at my jokes. Never praised my assignments. While others got a nod or a pat, I just got... silence. And yet, I kept showing up. To his class. To his tests. Because something about the way he taught made me uncomfortable — in a way that pushed me to become better. I once failed a science project. I’d messed up the timing, the experiment didn’t work, and the whole class saw it fall apart. He didn’t scold me. He didn’t console me either. He just said, “Try again. You’ll learn something when it’s not easy.” I went home angry that day. But I tried again. And again. And that third version? It actually worked. I still remember how he watched it quietly from the back of the class and just nodded once — not smiling, not clapping — just *nodding*, like he’d expected it all along. Back then, I didn’t call it friendship. I called it...
