The living room buzzed softly with sound—afternoon television murmuring in the background, the fan clicking as it turned. Lola and Medina sat cross-legged on the floor, half-bored, half-restless, while Blue lay stretched out on the couch, her thumb scrolling absently through the internet.
"She's been quiet lately," Medina said, lowering her voice even though Blue was only a few feet away.
Lola glanced toward her sister. "She's been like that since the holidays started ending. Not sad—just… different."
Medina hummed thoughtfully. "You think she's hiding something?"
Blue rolled onto her side, pretending to be absorbed in her screen. She didn't look up, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Blue doesn't hide things," Lola said confidently. "She just doesn't say everything out loud."
Medina laughed. "That's literally the definition of hiding things."
Blue finally spoke, her tone light. "I can hear you, you know."
The two of them burst out laughing, and the moment dissolved easily, just another ordinary afternoon. But Blue's heart thudded quietly beneath the calm. Because this time, they were wrong.
She was hiding something.
School resumed the following week, arriving with noise, color, and chaos. The gates buzzed with energy, stories overlapping, uniforms freshly pressed, friendships slipping back into place as though they had never paused.
Blue walked in with Lola and Medina, her expression calm, her posture relaxed—but inside, something fluttered with something she refused to name out loud.
Roger.
The memory of his confession from the final week of the holidays still felt unreal. The quiet way he had said her name. The honesty in his voice when he admitted he had feelings for her. No pressure. No performance.
"I don't want this to be a distraction," he added. "I want it to be… real. If you're okay with that."
They had decided to try—carefully, privately. A secret, just for now. Only his twin knew. Not Lola. Not Medina. No one else.
And it stayed that way.
By the end of the first day, it was impossible not to notice the shift in the school's atmosphere. Roger and Fred were everywhere—laughing in corridors with their friends, leaning against railings, their names passing from mouth to mouth.
Especially from the art section.
"Have you seen them?" a girl gushed near the lockers.
"They sit together in art class—it's unfair," another complained.
"They're literally the reason I don't skip that class."
Blue heard it all and said nothing.
In the courtyard, she caught Roger's eye across the space. It lasted only a second. He smiled—small, controlled—and looked away just as quickly. No one noticed. No one suspected.
And that made it thrilling.
At lunch, Elise leaned closer to Blue. "Okay, seriously. What is going on with the twins?"
"Nothing," Blue said smoothly, sipping her drink.
Asha squinted. "You're smiling."
Blue shrugged. "Am I not allowed to be happy?"
They groaned in unison.
As the days unfolded, school felt different—brighter, louder, more alive. There was drama in the whispers, fun in the secrecy, and a steady warmth in knowing something good existed without needing to prove it to anyone.
Blue had changed. She knew that now.
And this time, whatever she was stepping into, she was doing it with her eyes open—choosing carefully, quietly, and enjoying the moment exactly as it was.
************
The art section was buzzing, as it always did when a new term began, but this year, there was a new kind of energy. Girls leaned across their desks, whispering and giggling, eyes darting toward the hallway windows or the entrance doors as though they expected someone to appear at any moment. They didn't need to wait long.
"Did you see them?" Marcy asked, tugging lightly at Julia's sleeve, her voice low but trembling with excitement.
"See who?" Julia tilted her head, pretending not to know.
"You know—Roger and Fred! They've been in our grade for, like, a week and suddenly it's like everyone is obsessed with them. Especially him." Marcy's eyes widened. "He's—he's… mysterious, like the kind of guy you can't figure out in one glance."
Julia rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed slightly. "I noticed. But don't act like it's just him. Have you seen the way the girls swoon over both of them in class? They're impossible to ignore."
Marcy leaned closer, almost conspiratorial. "And guess what? There's this girl—Blue. I've seen her around. She's… calm. Kind of cold, actually. Never near his class. Never even looks like she notices him."
Julia gasped softly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Are you saying…?"
"Exactly that. It's like she's in her own world or something, but no one can catch it. She's too careful." Marcy's eyes sparkled.She never waves. Doesn't even smile when someone passes by. And yet, I saw her once, near our art classroom, talking to someone… almost like they knew each other, but no one noticed. She's smart."
Julia leaned back, crossing her arms. "She's… cautious. Makes sense. Who trusts too quickly these days? Especially someone like her."
Blue, meanwhile, sat in her classroom , her posture relaxed, her expression neutral. In reality, she was alert, constantly aware of the world around her. Roger had confessed his feelings during the last week of the holidays, but Blue wasn't about to let anyone else—or even herself—rush into trust.
Their relationship was a secret. The only person who knew, besides Roger's twin, was the twin's presence in their small shared circle. No one else suspected anything, not Elise, not Asha, not a single student in either of their classes.
Even in school, they behaved like strangers. A casual "hi" in passing, a polite nod if they accidentally crossed paths, but nothing more. Blue avoided lingering near Roger's class. She never visited him there. Even when she went to check on her only friend in the art class, she maintained her distance. No one noticed. No one suspected.
It wasn't just about secrecy—it was about boundaries. About keeping herself safe. She had learned the hard way that hearts could be careless, that trust could be broken in an instant. She would not be naive again.
And yet, beneath her calm exterior, there was a thrill in this delicate dance. Walking the halls, carefully measured steps, pretending she didn't know someone who knew everything about her—the thrill was quiet but exhilarating.
Later, Blue walked past the art hall for a brief errand. She noticed the girls leaning toward one another, whispering, eyes following someone invisible to her. She smirked faintly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, but said nothing. No hint of recognition crossed her face. Not a single glance toward Roger.
Roger, for his part, maintained the same composure. He never reached out in public. Never made a move. Their connection thrived in private, quiet moments when the school's eyes weren't watching, when boundaries were respected, and when trust was earned slowly.