The dining hall smelled of warm bread and coffee, the familiar mix of college chaos and chatter. Students clustered at long tables, plates scraping, voices overlapping in a dull roar that made Emma's chest tighten. She hated the sound. Every laugh felt too loud, every shouted joke too sharp. Words carried weight, but she didn't trust hers to carry the right kind.
Emma slid into a corner seat, away from the crowd. Her notebook opened immediately, pen ready, as if the page could shield her from the world. She scribbled quick notes: a reminder, a doodle, a silent plea that nothing around her would respond to her thoughts today.
"Emma! There you are!"
June's voice cut through the noise like sunlight through fog. Her roommate plopped down opposite her, a tray of eggs and toast balanced in front of her. "You're always so quiet in the mornings. Did you even sleep?"
Emma forced a small smile. She wanted to answer, to tell June that silence wasn't laziness or mood — it was survival. But words were dangerous, even in this friendly bubble. Instead, she wrote:
> Morning was fine. Thanks.
June leaned over, peering at the notebook. "You've got to talk to someone eventually, you know. Sitting here silently like a statue isn't going to make anyone notice you… except maybe the weird ones."
Emma's fingers tightened around her pen. She glanced at the far side of the hall, where a group of students laughed loudly. Their voices collided in waves that made the air almost tremble. And there, seated slightly apart, was Ethan Vale.
He wasn't looking at her. He never did. But there was a gravity to him, a careless confidence that made her heart spike. He spoke softly to his friends, a casual charm in the way he moved, gestured, laughed — all ordinary, all completely unattainable. And every time he opened his mouth, she worried.
What if a word slips? What if he notices me… really notices?
June leaned closer again, nudging her shoulder. "Seriously, Emma, you're not going to get through college hiding behind that notebook forever."
Emma wrote back:
> Not everyone needs to talk.
June rolled her eyes, smirking, but didn't press further. She understood — only partially.
The dining hall's noise pressed in from all sides. Silverware clinked against plates, trays slid on tables, laughter bounced off the high ceiling. Emma could feel her heartbeat echoing in rhythm with it all. It wasn't just anxiety; she knew even a single careless word could ripple outward, changing things she couldn't control.
She ate slowly, mechanically, scanning the crowd for any sign of the unusual. That's when it happened.
A glass on a neighboring table trembled, tilting slightly as if caught in an invisible hand. Emma froze. Her pen hovered mid-scribble. The people around it laughed and shrugged — nothing seemed wrong to them. But Emma knew better. Her stomach sank. She hadn't spoken, hadn't thought anything particularly strong. And yet the world had reacted anyway.
June noticed her stiffening. "Emma… are you okay?"
Emma closed her notebook and shook her head faintly, forcing a laugh. "Yeah. Just… clumsy hands, I guess."
But she knew it wasn't that simple. Something was shifting in the air — subtle, deliberate, unexplainable. And someone, somewhere, was watching.
Ethan laughed at something one of his friends said, unaware of the ripple that had passed between their tables. Emma's eyes followed him briefly, then she looked down at her hands. She hated that even the sight of him could make her magic falter, even a little.
June finished her toast and nudged her again. "Come on, after breakfast, we have that linguistics lecture. You can't hide in the dining hall forever. Maybe today you'll say hi to someone… anyone."
Emma smiled faintly, silently. Hi, she thought. One small, harmless word, almost like a wish. But even in her mind, it carried weight. Words shaped reality, and the right ones — or wrong ones — could change everything.
She gathered her tray, following June toward the exit. Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving droplets glittering like tiny crystals on the campus walkways. The sun tried to peek through gray clouds. Emma's breath caught, half in relief, half in fear. Today, she would survive the morning. Today, the world would remain mostly intact.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that something — or someone — had noticed the tremor at the table. And Emma knew, deep down, the quiet life she clung to might not last much longer.