In the classroom, Jayna craned her neck toward the window, gaze fixed on the corridor outside.
Only when she saw Ginevra Volkova walk back in and make her way to her seat did Jayna finally reel her eyes back in, like a fishing line reluctantly pulled from the water.
"Ginevra," she called.
The other girl turned her head and glanced over, calm and unreadable.
Jayna opened her mouth… then closed it again.
She knew—whatever Ginevra had done would be the "right" thing. By the book.
Which meant she had a sinking feeling she'd be publicly scolded next period. Ginevra did everything strictly, line by line. Of course she'd have written Jayna's name down.
Still, she asked, bracing herself:
"What did the teacher say?"
"Out of the whole class, you were the only one who was late," Ginevra replied.
"Oh. Got it. So you really did write me down."
Jayna's heart sank. She shot Ginevra a wounded look, then muttered under her breath, voice like a deflating balloon:
"I don't even know why I skipped breakfast to rush to this stupid school…"
Her chest felt stuffy. She wilted forward and lay bonelessly across her desk.
Ginevra listened to her muttering, glanced at her once, and then let the matter drop.
And then something strange happened.
Next period, Ms. Harper launched straight into the key points of the fourth text, her chalk tapping lightly across the board. She didn't spend the usual ten minutes at the start of class reviewing the early study session.
Jayna, who'd already steeled herself for the ritual of being stared at by thirty pairs of eyes, sat there waiting—
And waiting—
And… nothing.
Class went on as if nothing at all had happened.
What was going on?
She tilted her head, sneaking a look at Ginevra, who was listening to the lecture with her usual focus.
Jayna twirled her pen between her fingers, thoughts circling in restless loops.
If Ginevra had written her down, why hadn't Ms. Harper said anything?
Maybe the teacher had just… decided to turn over a new leaf?
Riding that fragile wave of relief, she spent the whole class in quiet, guilty delight.
As soon as the bell rang, she was about to hurry down to the campus store to get something, anything, to pacify her empty stomach.
But the French class rep, Megan Wells, turned in her seat and blocked her path.
"Jaynara, Ms. Harper wants you to go to the office and bring back all the French notebooks for the class," Megan said.
"Uh… isn't that your job?" Jayna asked blankly. "Why me?"
"Ms. Harper said it right before the bell," Megan replied, equally confused. "I'm just passing the message."
Inside, ten thousand tiny protests sprang up at once.
She'd just thought she'd escaped unscathed—and now the gates of hell creaked open again.
The office was the one place she hated going most.
She glanced around, wanting to vent at someone, anyone. Her gaze collided head-on with Ginevra's.
Ginevra was just lifting her eyes from her notebook when Jayna shot her an exaggerated glare, like all of this was her fault.
Then she spun on her heel and marched out of the classroom with puffed-up cheeks, leaving Ginevra staring after her, mildly bewildered.
Out in the corridor—
"Hey, watch where you're going."
A soft, sugary voice rang out, just loud enough to turn a few heads.
"…I didn't bump into you," Jayna said, frowning.
The aisle was wide. She was sure she hadn't so much as brushed the girl.
"You can't just go around knocking into people just because you're mad Ms. Harper called you to the office," the girl continued in the same measured tone. "You were late. Everyone saw."
She clutched her shoulder and rubbed it as if it really hurt, brows drawn together, the picture of injured innocence.
Her voice was sweet, her face smiling pleasantly—yet there was a chill threaded neatly through each word.
Well.
Now the whole class knew for sure that she'd been late.
Jayna pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, sizing the girl up.
Pretty face, perfect uniform, the kind of polished bearing people liked to watch—and she suddenly remembered who this was.
Oh. Right. Year-rank number two, Lydia Westbrook.
Rumor had it there were enough boys chasing her to form a soccer team.
"If you really think I hurt you," Jayna said, "why don't you ram into me once to make us even?"
"Hey, don't you know how to apologize?"
The girl beside Lydia stepped up, voice sharp and loud enough to bounce off the walls.
She was tall and broad-shouldered, looming in a way that made the confrontation feel bigger than it was.
At the back of the room, even Ginevra lifted her eyes from her book and looked over.
"And you are…?" Jayna asked, genuinely puzzled.
She had no idea who this newly appeared human megaphone was.
"You—"
The big girl drew breath, ready to unleash something, but Jayna cut in before the spark could catch.
Her expression flipped in an instant.
She smiled, eyes bending into two crescent moons.
"Look, sorry, ladies," she chirped, tone light and breezy. "I don't actually have time to argue with you today. Ms. Harper wants me to haul a stack of notebooks for her. How about you come help, and then I apologize properly afterward~?"
She watched the irritation flash across their faces, watched them grind their teeth but hold themselves in check.
With the whole class there watching, there was nothing they could really do.
So she shrugged, breezed past, and practically bolted toward the office.
Ginevra had been observing all of this quietly.
As Jayna slipped away, a small, unbidden smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
She stood up. With a few minutes still left before the next class, she headed downstairs.
"Ginevra?!"
In the school store, Calista Renner almost choked on her milk when she looked up and saw who'd just walked in.
Ginevra gave a soft "Mm," which was as good as a hello.
Calista's gaze dropped to her hand.
Ginevra was holding a neatly wrapped sandwich.
"You haven't had breakfast yet?" Calista asked.
Ginevra turned her head slightly, expression shifting in a way that was complicated and not very talkative. She didn't answer.
Calista sipped at her milk through a straw and scooted closer on instinct, curiosity lighting up her face.
She could not remember ever seeing Ginevra buy anything from the school store. Snacks, especially, seemed like something that existed in a completely different galaxy from the girl.
"I always thought you'd never eat junk food at school," Calista chattered on. "I wonder if Jayna's getting chewed out by Ms. Harper right now?"
"Don't know."
Ginevra shifted slightly, putting a little more space between them.
"Lydia was really nasty just now," Calista went on, already halfway through her carton of milk. "But with so many people watching her be late, you couldn't not write it down either, so… sigh."
Ginevra's brows drew together, just a touch.
She didn't like how casually Calista called people by their first names, like they were all interchangeable.
"Where did you get your milk?" Ginevra asked suddenly, turning to look. The carton in Calista's hand had big red strawberries printed on the side.
"Huh?" Calista blinked, not following.
"What flavor is it?"
Ginevra was about to set her sandwich on the counter, but paused and glanced toward the big refrigerated shelves instead.
"Oh—strawberry. It's good. Over there, third row from the top."
Now understanding, Calista pointed at the drink rack.
Ginevra walked over, picked up a bottle of the same strawberry milk, and examined the label.
Fresh date.Five percent strawberry puree.
"Thanks."
She brought the sandwich and milk to the counter. Her "thank you" to Calista was soft but very clear.
Calista stared at her, eyes wide.
If she wasn't hallucinating, Ginevra had just given her a tiny, almost shy smile.
And honestly? It was very, very pretty.
"I'm starving… I swear I am never skipping breakfast just to get to this damned school early ever again."
Leaving the office, Jayna's polite smile dropped from her face like a mask sliding off a hook.
She hugged a heavy stack of French notebooks to her chest and trudged back toward Class 2-1.
Ms. Harper really had called her in just to collect the notebooks.
No lectures. No pointed remarks. Not a single mention of her being late.
Jayna replayed the brief conversation in her head:
"It seems you and Ginevra are getting along quite well. That's good. I feel more at ease like this."
That was what Ms. Harper had said when Jayna turned to go.
How did she even know they were "getting along"?
It wasn't like they were that close.
Ginevra had still dutifully written her name down and… told—
Wait. No.
If she had told, and Ms. Harper knew she was late, why hadn't she been made to write a reflection?
Unless…
Unless it had something to do with Ginevra.
Still mulling this over, she carried the stack of notebooks back into the room and dumped them onto Megan's desk.
"Okay, the rest is your job. I barely know everyone's names," she said.
As she straightened, her eyes slid sideways.
In the second row, Lydia Westbrook was laughing with a group of girls, perfectly composed as if the little hallway scene had never happened.
Jayna's attention snagged on the back door.
Ginevra stepped in, holding something in her hand.
Jayna's mood flipped in an instant.
She broke into a grin and all but bounced back to her seat, leaning forward with both palms braced on Ginevra's desk.
"You told the teacher something good about me, didn't you?" she whispered, barely containing her excitement.
"No."
Ginevra truly didn't think of it as "saying something good."
Jayna narrowed her eyes and stared at her, waiting for the façade to crack.
Ginevra's expression remained as mild and indifferent as ever.
Jayna eventually gave up with a little huff.
"Fine. Whatever. I'll just assume you did. You're not very good at expressing yourself anyway."
She plopped down into her chair, still smiling.
"By the way, where'd you go during the break? You only just came back."
Ginevra hesitated for a couple of seconds.
Then she reached into her desk and pulled out a small plastic bag, the one she'd just tucked away.
She set it on Jayna's desk.
"What's this? For me?"
Seeing Ginevra nod, Jayna picked up the bag and peeked inside.
A sandwich.
And a carton of strawberry milk.
She stared, stunned, then slowly lifted her gaze.
There was something almost disbelieving in her eyes as she asked, half laughing:
"You… bought this for me?"
"Mm."
"You—you actually went and bought this for me during the break?"
Joy bubbled up faster than she could tame it.
Her earlier bad mood evaporated as if someone had opened a window in her chest.
Her fingers trembled just a little as she carefully opened the packaging.
"You know, this is actually my favorite brand of sandwich," she said, barely stopping for breath. "The ham in the middle is the best. And this milk is so good too…"
She talks too much, Ginevra thought, the faintest sigh forming in her chest.
She pressed her lips together, turned her head, and watched Jayna nibble at the sandwich.
She had intended to say that she'd only bought it because the rumbling of Jayna's stomach might disrupt her concentration—something distant and logical like that.
But then Jayna took a sip of milk, wiped the straw with her thumb, and turned toward her with a bright, unguarded smile.
"Ginevra, you're so good to me."
"I'm not—"
Ginevra started to deny it.
"You are," Jayna cut in cheerfully. "Just take the compliment and accept it. That's how you're supposed to behave. Good girl."
Her smile curved like a little bridge, soft dimples appearing at the corners of her mouth. It was a warm, sun-caught smile, one that could make you forget the chill of early morning.
Maybe it was because that smile was too dazzling—
But Ginevra froze for a moment, something in her eyes softening, a rare flicker of emotion slipping through before she could shutter it again.
She quickly looked away, and the solemn explanation she'd prepared quietly dissolved in her throat.
She swallowed it down and said nothing.
That afternoon, when classes were over and the classroom had emptied out, Ginevra went to the restroom.
When she came back, there was something new on her desk.
A bottle of strawberry-flavored sparkling water stood there, condensation beading delicately on the plastic.
She picked it up, puzzled.
A small pink card was taped to the side, the handwriting familiar and a little messy:
You haven't had anything to drink all afternoon. I don't know if you like this flavor, but please have it ♡.
A rare smile tugged at her lips.
She didn't need to guess who it was from.
Jayna's handwriting was the easiest thing in the world to recognize.
She lifted her head slightly, eyes scanning the room, looking for that particular figure.
Outside the classroom, half hidden behind the window ledge, Jayna was perched quietly on the sill, only the top half of her face visible as she peeked in.
The moment their eyes almost met, she shrank back with a tiny, triumphant flutter in her chest—
As if leaving a secret gift, and watching it be discovered, was more filling than any sandwich.