(Steven Sy's POV — The Night He Couldn't Sleep)
Steven lay on his back, staring at his bedroom ceiling like the pale lines of light were mocking him.
He had showered.
He had changed.
He had sat on his bed, intending to sleep.
But the moment he closed his eyes—
He saw her face again.
Michelle in the hallway, eyes bright with unshed tears, shoulders drawn tight… then lifting her chin with that trembling dignity that shattered him.
Michelle brushing off whispers even when they clawed at her.
Michelle laughing — actually laughing — while he felt like the world was on fire around her.
"You look like some brooding male lead of a tragic teenage soap opera."
Her voice.
Her eyes.
Her ridiculous, unbelievable courage.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.
Damn it.
He couldn't calm down.
Not even close.
"You're here. So… yeah. I think I am."
Those words had burrowed straight into him and refused to let go.
Girls don't say things like that to him.
