Jayna's fingertips still held the coolness of Ginevra's cheeks.
She stared at her for a second, startled by the way Ginevra had said it—so stiff, so reluctant, and yet so unbearably warm. It was as if Ginevra had forced herself to step into a language she didn't know, and all the clumsiness of it only made it more sincere.
Jayna couldn't help herself.
She stroked Ginevra's face.
Ginevra's cheeks were cold, but the skin was soft—fine and smooth, the kind that felt almost unreal under the pads of Jayna's fingers. Jayna lingered, touching once… twice… three times, greedy in a quiet way, as if she were afraid that if she stopped, the moment would evaporate.
Only when she felt the faintest warmth rising—only when she feared she might rub Ginevra's pale skin red—did she finally withdraw.
"Mmm. Satisfied?" Ginevra asked, voice flat.
Jayna laughed and nodded, eyes bright. She really is the gentlest person in the world.
"What do I do?" Jayna murmured, as if confessing to herself. "Giny… it feels like meeting you was my luck. I'm older than you, yet I'm still so childish sometimes. Sorry."
"Don't say sorry." Ginevra cut in immediately, her tone calm but firm. "It's nothing."
She didn't want those words—apologies—hanging between them. Not from Jayna.
When Ginevra straightened, Jayna noticed the time. It was already past ten. They'd gone with Mr. Carter earlier to the police station to finish dealing with what had happened the day before, and Jayna had mentioned that Ms. Rose would be coming back today.
That meant Ginevra didn't have to worry as much.
Jayna's chest tightened anyway.
"You're leaving?" she blurted, reading the faint shift in Ginevra's posture like a threat. Panic rose so quickly it made her fingers go cold. She reached out and caught the hem of Ginevra's shirt, holding on as if fabric could keep a person.
Ginevra shook her head and explained, "I'll leave after your butler comes back."
"…Okay." Jayna loosened her grip, but the disappointment still pulled her mouth downward. She shoved a piece of fruit into her mouth like it could fill the hollow feeling. "I kind of wish Ms. Rose wouldn't come back."
Ginevra's lips curved, gentle and small.
She looked at Jayna's gloomy face and felt something shift inside her—something she didn't dislike at all. Jayna was genuinely trying to cling to her. And strangely… Ginevra didn't resent it.
"If you're still alone later," Ginevra said, voice quiet, "come back to my place with me. I need to redo those practice questions and mock exams this afternoon."
Jayna's eyes lit up instantly, like stars switching on.
"Yes—yes!" she said, almost bouncing. "I'll go with you!"
Ginevra watched her excitement and thought again of Little Raindrop waiting for food—same eager eyes, same bright impatience.
"But there's a condition," Ginevra added, eyebrow lifting slightly. "You have to do problems with me."
"Of course!" Jayna declared, completely sincere. "I'm going to get into the same university as you."
Her voice was full of conviction, like she was making a vow to the air itself.
"And then I'll graduate with you," she went on, breath quickening. "And work in the same city as you. So I can be with you all the time."
The way she said it—the light in her eyes, the steady certainty in her tone—made Ginevra's heart jolt.
A small tremor ran through her chest.
"You really think that?" Ginevra asked, and something flickered in her gaze—an emotion she couldn't name, an unfamiliar warmth that startled her.
"Yes," Jayna said simply. "I want to stay with you. And I'll work hard to make it happen."
It wasn't dramatic. There were no grand promises. But the sincerity in Jayna's words wrapped around Ginevra's ribs so tightly it hurt a little.
Ginevra looked directly into Jayna's eyes and nodded once.
"Then… do your best," she said, offering her encouragement in the only way she knew—quiet, steady, real.
Jayna huffed, indignant at being told something so obvious. "Obviously. I can't let anyone bully you."
She leaned forward, speaking as if she'd already decided she had the right.
"You're too quiet. You don't like explaining yourself. In the future you'll get taken advantage of for not speaking up—so I have to handle it. That's my job."
Ginevra laughed softly and nodded, letting Jayna have her pride.
Jayna had been yearning to go back with Ginevra.
But reality didn't indulge her.
Ms. Rose returned that very morning, frantic and teary, searching the house for her beloved girl. Jayna felt both relieved and—unreasonably—heartbroken. Ms. Rose was so warmly grateful that she tried to keep Ginevra for lunch, but Ginevra insisted on leaving.
There was no forcing her.
So she went.
"Jayna," Ms. Rose called later, after lunch was already ready, "what are you still staring at out there?"
Jayna had been leaning on the window ledge, gazing into the distance like a lovesick heroine in an old film.
She straightened, eyes a little heavy. "Nothing."
It wasn't like she could see anything anyway. Ginevra had left on that little electric scooter. Jayna belatedly regretted not telling her to wear an extra layer.
Was it cold riding like that?
"Come eat," Ms. Rose urged. "The food will get cold."
Ms. Rose didn't know what was wrong with her. She chalked it up to yesterday's incident—the frightening event that had left the whole household shaken. When Mr. Carter told her what happened, her heart had practically climbed into her throat. Thank God Jayna was safe. Otherwise she wouldn't know how she'd face Mr. Stevens.
Jayna dragged herself to the table and poked at her rice without appetite. The meal tasted like paper.
What she wanted was—
Kasha.
Or rather…
She wanted her.
It had only been half an hour, and her mind was already filled with Ginevra's outline—her eyes, her nose, her lips, her fingertips, the coolness of her presence, the faint scent that seemed to belong to winter and clean stone.
It wouldn't leave.
"Not hungry?" Ms. Rose asked, ladling mushroom soup into her bowl.
"It's not that," Jayna mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. "I just kinda… miss....."
Ms. Rose's eyes widened. "You mean you miss your dad?"
She took Jayna's words exactly where a caretaker's heart would naturally go.
"Of course," Ms. Rose continued quickly, comfort rising like instinct. "After what happened, anyone would feel uneasy. Mr. Stevens already knows. That man will pay for what he did. And the neighborhood has increased security—this won't happen again. I won't leave you alone anymore either, unless Mr. Carter is home."
Jayna froze, then felt her face heat up with embarrassment.
She couldn't exactly correct her.
So she lowered her eyes and ate quietly, letting the misunderstanding pass like a blanket thrown over truth.
The next morning, Jayna left early for school.
As if the incident hadn't happened at all.
Ms. Rose still wanted her to rest at home for a day or two. If Jayna needed leave, Mr. Stevens could simply speak to the principal—easy.
"Jayna," Ms. Rose asked again, handing her the backpack with anxious hands, "are you sure you don't want to stay home?"
Jayna smiled, light and reassuring, like she was soothing someone else's fear instead of her own. "I'm fine. Really. I'm back to normal. Don't worry."
Mr. Carter drove her to Summit Ridge High School.
When she reached the classroom, something was different.
The usual morning reading atmosphere was gone. Everyone was buzzing, talking over each other, and Ms. Harper stood at the front without stopping them, letting the noise spread.
Jayna paused, suspicious. She set down her bag and looked around.
Ginevra was sitting as usual, ignoring everything, reading quietly as though the classroom were empty. Jayna resisted the urge to bother her and instead leaned toward Ethan Johnson.
"Hey," Jayna whispered. "What's everyone talking about?"
"School anniversary," Ethan murmured back. "In a week. Ms. Harper said our class has to prepare at least two performances. Everyone's discussing what to do."
Anniversary?
Summit Ridge's anniversary wasn't some small thing either—this was a prestigious school, and the event would be grand. Whole-school performances. Guests. Visitors. The thought alone made Jayna's stomach tighten.
Ms. Harper clapped her hands, and the room reluctantly quieted.
"Alright," she said, smiling brightly, "I'll say it again. We're an outstanding class. The principal specifically emphasized that we must provide at least two performances. Music, chess, art, singing, dancing, a skit—anything. Any volunteers?"
Her eyes gleamed with the hunger of a teacher who wanted students to shine.
"This is a great opportunity," she continued. "When you go to university, you'll do things like this too. Experiences like these look wonderful in your portfolio."
Silence.
A thick, awkward silence pooled across the classroom.
This wasn't some casual talent show. This was the school's sixtieth anniversary—big enough that plenty of outsiders would attend. Anyone who stepped onstage would be stepping into something public and heavy.
Jayna wanted nothing to do with it.
But—
"Ms. Harper," Calista Renner said, raising her hand with suspicious cheerfulness, "I'm not volunteering myself, but I know someone who plays piano really well. And she sings beautifully."
Jayna's eyes widened.
She glared at Calista's back from behind, sending a murderous warning with pure eye power:
Say my name and I'll end you.
"Oh?" Ms. Harper perked up immediately. "Tell us!"
Calista glanced back, saw Jayna trying to shrink under her desk like an ostrich, and grinned.
"Jayna Stevens," Calista announced brightly. "She plays piano and she sings really well. She's basically a little pianist!"
Calista Renner.
I'm going to kill you.
On the stage, Jayna stood with her sheet music in hand, watching the instructor arrange the rehearsal space.
The scale of it hit her in waves. One class after another performed, voices echoing, footsteps thudding, lights glaring. Jayna's palms grew damp.
She'd never played piano in front of so many people.
It felt like being asked to stand in the middle of a storm and pretend you weren't afraid of rain.
"Next! Class Three's drama!" the instructor called, voice amplified. "Get ready and try to run it cleanly in one go. After that we have Class Two and Class One. Don't be nervous. Relax. You're all amazing!"
Jayna's heart dropped into her stomach.
Don't be nervous?
How was she not supposed to be?
She rubbed her face with one hand, muttering under her breath, "This is all Calista's fault…"
She could still remember that day—how close she'd come to standing up and refusing. How close she'd come to saying, No. I'm not doing it.
But then—
She'd caught Ginevra's gaze.
That quiet look of expectation.
And Jayna, like an idiot, had agreed.
Because she couldn't stand disappointing her.
Now she was stuck with a job that was all pressure and no reward.
And on top of everything, her mind kept wandering—restless, jealous thoughts snapping at her heels.
What was Ginevra doing right now?
Jayna vaguely remembered that their P.E. class was combined with Class Two today. Rory Bennett—Class Two's class president—was the type who would absolutely try to latch onto Ginevra. And Ginevra was too gentle. If someone asked her something, she wouldn't refuse harshly.
What if Rory is bothering her right now?
Jayna sighed, miserable.
She wanted to sneak over to the gym and see for herself.
But the rehearsal hall was far from the gym. Too far. Not worth it.
Still… her chest felt unsettled.
Annoyed, Jayna flopped onto the first-row seat and slapped her sheet music over her face like a curtain. She lay there like a dead fish, limbs limp, waiting for her rehearsal slot—which was still a long way off.
The background music from another class's drama drifted in and out. Jayna's eyelids grew heavy.
She was just about to fall asleep when—
Cold.
Something icy pressed abruptly against her cheek.
Jayna jolted, shivering violently, fury exploding awake in her veins. She tore the sheet music off her face and sat up, ready to curse the idiot who dared—
"Who the hell—?!"
She was prepared to scream the prankster into tears.
But what she saw—
made her freeze.
Ginevra stood there, looking at her quietly.
For a heartbeat, Jayna couldn't move.
Then her expression changed so fast it was almost comical.
"—Huh?!" Jayna sprang up, wiping the cold water from her cheek with frantic hands. Her voice shot into delighted disbelief. "You're here?! Why are you here?!"
Ginevra's face was calm, almost blank, but there was something gentle around the edges—something faintly softened, like a smile that hadn't fully formed.
She held out a bottle of strawberry sparkling water—the unopened one—and handed it to Jayna.
Then, in that steady, quiet voice, she said,
"I came to check on you."