The rain had returned.
It wasn't loud—just a soft drizzle, like the sky was whispering secrets to the earth. The windows of Crescent High fogged slightly, and students leaned into each other for warmth. The school felt smaller on rainy days, the kind of small that made every glance feel louder.
Lia stood at the back of the art room, watching the paper lanterns spin slowly from the ceiling fans.
She had stopped sketching that morning.
Her fingers hovered over the page, but her mind was somewhere else—somewhere between Kai Yoon's warning… and Su Rina's voice note.
> "But you can make your own choices, right?"
That single sentence had replayed in her head for two nights.
Why did it feel like everyone was trying to pull her in different directions?
She didn't even know what direction she wanted.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
Kai stepped inside, holding a familiar bag—her bag.
"You forgot this in the music room," he said quietly, setting it on the table near her sketchpad.
"Oh…" She blinked. "I didn't even notice."
"I did."
Their eyes met.
For a moment, all the noise outside faded.
Kai stepped closer, resting his hands on the table edge. "You've been quiet lately."
"I'm always quiet."
"Not with me."
Lia looked down. "I didn't know I was supposed to be anything."
He didn't reply immediately. Then he said softly, "You don't have to be anything."
Her heart twisted.
"Why did you tell me to stay away from Su Rina?" she asked. "You never really explained."
Kai sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Because I know her. And I know what she can do when she feels like something is being taken from her."
"I'm not taking anything."
"Even so, you became her target."
Lia shook her head. "But she's been… kind."
"She was kind to me, once too."
Lia stilled.
It was the first time he'd acknowledged they'd been more than just classmates.
"She still has feelings for you, doesn't she?"
Kai's silence was answer enough.
"I don't want to be in the middle of something I didn't cause," Lia whispered.
"I didn't want you in it either," he said quietly. "But here we are."
A pause.
Then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out something folded—a small, hand-drawn map.
"What's this?" Lia asked.
"A surprise," Kai said. "You once said you liked quiet places."
She unfolded it.
It was a sketch of the rooftop garden, an old abandoned part of the school that had been closed off years ago. But Kai had labeled a back route through the staircase, marked where the broken door latch could be opened, and even added: sunlight after 4pm.
"You found this for me?"
"I remembered something I used to like when I needed to breathe," he said, eyes on her. "Thought maybe you needed it too."
The lump in her throat came quickly.
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
But she did.
She wanted to say that he noticed too much, gave too much, saw through her silence like no one else ever had. She wanted to ask why it mattered to him. Why she mattered.
But all she could do was whisper, "Thank you."
He gave a small nod, but his eyes held more than words.
—
That evening, Lia returned home soaked from the light rain. Her mom met her at the door, towel in hand.
"You need to carry an umbrella," she scolded gently.
Lia let out a breath. "I forgot. Again."
Her mom helped her dry off before stepping back and really looking at her.
"You've been distracted lately," she said softly.
"I'm just… tired," Lia replied.
Her mom didn't push, but her eyes lingered on her daughter with a knowing look.
Later, over dinner, her dad cleared his throat. "A boy walked you home last week. Tall. Sharp eyes."
Lia nearly choked on her soup. "That was… Kai."
Her dad nodded. "He looked respectful."
"Smart too," her mom added, trying to hide a smile.
"Didn't say much," her dad added. "But he looked like he was checking if our lights were working."
Lia laughed nervously. "He's… kind of quiet. And serious."
Her parents exchanged glances, then returned to their meal without another word.
But the silence they left behind said we're watching.
—
Somewhere across town, Kai sat in his living room, tossing a stress ball between his hands. His younger sister, Kai Lan, sat cross-legged again, arms folded.
"You told them, didn't you?" Kai asked.
Kai Lan shrugged. "Mom guessed first. I just confirmed."
He groaned. "You're not helpful."
She giggled. "They like her."
He froze. "What?"
"They said she seems gentle. Different from the others."
Kai looked at her. "What others?"
"You know. The loud ones. The ones who wear perfume like a weapon."
Kai almost laughed. Almost.
Kai Lan leaned forward. "So… what are you going to do about it?"
He looked out the window, rain streaking the glass.
"I don't know yet."
But something had changed.
He was starting to feel like it wasn't just a crush anymore.
And that scared him more than anything.