The week rolled on with a strange kind of quiet. The air at Crescent High felt warmer, fuller, like it carried secrets between students' footsteps. Laughter echoed in corners, the scent of paper decorations and paint wafted through the halls, and somewhere between late afternoon classes and early dusk, Lia Chen was beginning to feel like she belonged.
But something was different.
It was Kai.
He wasn't ignoring her—not quite. But he wasn't as… close, either.
She caught him watching her a few times from across the courtyard, his eyes unreadable. But when she smiled, he didn't smile back. When she approached, he would nod, but say little. It was as though something stood between them. Something she couldn't name.
And every time Su Rina waved at her or walked her to the art room, she thought she saw Kai's shoulders tighten ever so slightly.
That Friday afternoon, just as she was packing up her sketchpad in the now-empty art room, she heard a knock on the open door.
She turned.
It was Kai.
She blinked. "Hey."
"Are you heading out?" he asked quietly.
Lia nodded. "Yeah. I was just finishing this last piece."
Kai stepped in, slowly, as though unsure whether he wanted to say what he came here for. His hands were in his pockets. His gaze flicked briefly to her sketchpad, then to her face.
"Su Rina's been talking to you a lot."
Lia hesitated. "She's been kind."
"Is that what you think?"
She frowned slightly. "I… don't understand."
Kai exhaled through his nose and leaned against the edge of the table.
"She wasn't always like that with people she didn't know. Especially girls."
Lia's brows furrowed. "You sound like you don't trust her."
Kai looked at her now—his gaze steady and serious. "I don't."
There was a pause, heavy like summer heat before a storm.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" Lia asked, her voice low.
Kai was quiet. Then he said, "No. I just wanted you to be careful."
And with that, he pushed away from the table and walked out.
Leaving Lia more confused than ever.
—
That evening, Lia walked home with her sketchpad pressed tightly to her chest. Her thoughts swirled.
Was Kai… jealous?
No. That couldn't be it. He didn't act jealous. He acted like someone who had something to protect. Or someone with something to hide.
She tried not to overthink it. But by the time she reached home, her head felt full of fog.
Her mom was in the kitchen, humming while folding dumplings.
"You're late today," she said without turning.
Lia dropped her bag near the doorway. "We're getting ready for the festival."
"You look tired."
Lia gave a small smile. "It's a good tired."
Her mom turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. "Lia?"
"Yeah?"
"Is there… a boy?"
Lia nearly tripped over her own feet.
Her mom raised an eyebrow. "You're not good at hiding things, sweetheart."
"There's no boy!" Lia said quickly, but her ears turned pink.
Her mom smirked and returned to the dumplings. "I didn't say that was a bad thing."
Lia poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, heartbeat still unsteady.
"Would it be a problem?" she asked suddenly. "If… there was?"
Her mom glanced at her, then returned to folding.
"It depends on the boy," she said softly.
Lia nodded, unsure what that meant—but somehow, it comforted her.
—
Across town, Kai Yoon sat in his living room, reading through school documents. The house was quiet—his parents were still at work. His little sister, Kai Lan, sat cross-legged across from him, flipping through a magazine.
"Gege," she said suddenly, "do you like that girl?"
Kai didn't look up. "What girl?"
"That quiet girl. The one who draws like a poet."
Kai paused. "Lia?"
"Mmhm."
He sighed. "Don't say it so loudly."
Kai Lan rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid. I see the way you look at her."
"I don't—"
"You do."
He finally looked up. "Don't tell Mom and Dad."
She grinned. "I won't. I like her."
Kai narrowed his eyes. "You've never spoken to her."
"I don't need to. You're nicer when she's around."
He blinked.
"You smile less, but your eyes are softer."
He stared at her for a moment. "You talk too much."
Kai Lan giggled and returned to her magazine. "You're in trouble, big brother."
He turned back to his file, but a quiet warmth bloomed in his chest. She was right. He was changing—and Lia had something to do with it.
—
Later that night, Lia sat on her bed, sketchpad open, but her hands still. The pages were blank.
Su Rina had sent her a voice note earlier:
> "I know Kai warned you. He always does that when he's trying to keep people away. But you can make your own choices, right?"
Lia hadn't replied.
Because she didn't know what her choice would be.
All she knew was that every time she thought of Kai, her heart felt quiet. Not loud. Not loud like crushes or stories in books.
Just… still.
And that stillness scared her more than anything.