The cafeteria looked less like a school dining hall and more like a banquet for royalty. Sunlight streamed through vaulted windows, catching the polished marble counters where rows of herbed chicken, golden pastries, and sparkling water glistened under the lights. I stood clutching my tray, my fingers gripping the plastic edge until they ached.
A sharp pang of guilt bloomed in my chest. I could almost see the faces of the children back at the orphanage, Matteo with his messy hair, Hana with her hungry eyes. Was I allowed to savor roasted chicken and strawberry tarts while they still lived on "mystery stew"?
I sat by the window, the flavors melting on my tongue, but the food felt heavy with the weight of my privilege. That was when I saw him.
Julien Rousseau stood at the center of the room, effortlessly drawing the light. When he caught my eye, he didn't just wave; he walked straight toward me. My stomach flipped as I straightened in my chair, the legs squeaking loudly against the marble. A few students turned, their gazes following Julien with clinical precision.
"Hey," he said, his smile softening as he reached the table. "I didn't expect to see you alone."
"I'm still learning the invisible boundaries of this place," I admitted, tucking a red strand of hair behind my ear.
He chuckled, a low, comforting hum. "There are no assigned seats here, Isabelle." He nodded at my tray, his eyes dancing with mischief. "The strawberry tart is serious business. Bold choice for a first day. Usually, people wait a week before surrendering to the pastry chef."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I just wanted to try it…"
"Relax, I'm joking. It's my favorite, too." He tilted his head. "Mind if I join you?"
Mind? MIND? Did I mind?! My brain screamed no, but my mouth stayed frozen for a second.
"Not at all," I managed, trying to sound far cooler than I felt.
As Julien sat, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Students whispered into napkins and stared openly. Julien ignored them, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "So, how was French? Did you find the library, or are you still lost in the dungeons?"
"Equations in math looked like hieroglyphics," I whispered dramatically.
His eyes sparkled. "Welcome to St. Aurelia, then. We specialize in making the simple things complicated."
We both began eating, falling into a comfortable silence. But the air around us grew heavier. I could feel the tension, a storm brewing at the entrance of the hall. Julien noticed it too. His smile didn't fade, but something in him sharpened. His shoulders squared, and he looked subtly… protective.
Then it happened. The cafeteria door slammed open with a sound like a gunshot.
Conversations died. A wave of annoyance and fear rippled across the room. Arabella Fontaine had arrived. Her walk was elegant and lethal, her heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor. Behind her, Camille Devereaux and Liliana Voss flanked her like perfectly manicured shadows. Celeste Von Richter, the quiet but unsettling fourth member, drifted behind them, her cold eyes scanning the room like a bird of prey.
Arabella spotted me. Her eyes narrowed, and a slow, poisonous smirk spread across her face. She began sashaying toward our table.
"Well, well," she said loudly. "If it isn't the little charity case. I thought I smelled something… common."
My blood froze. I gripped my fork until my hand shook. Julien stopped mid-bite, his eyes turning to chips of blue ice.
"Did you really think we wouldn't see you here?" Camille asked, rolling her eyes with a theatrical sigh. "Tucking into a meal that costs more than your entire wardrobe?"
Liliana leaned in with a smug smile. "You must be brave, showing your face after threatening us this morning. Or just incredibly stupid."
I clenched my hands under the table, my heart hammering. Arabella placed both palms on our table and bent forward, her face way too close to mine. I could smell her expensive, cloying perfume.
"You think you can come into this school and act like you're one of us?" her voice dropped to a hiss. "We don't forget, Isabelle. And we don't forgive. You're a stain on the silk, and we're going to scrub you out."
"You should be careful," Camille added.
"Very careful," Liliana echoed.
"You'll never see us coming," Celeste mumbled flatly, her empty eyes making my skin crawl.
I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like it was full of sand. But before I could speak, Julien rose from his chair. He didn't rush; he stood with a deliberate, towering grace.
Arabella blinked, clearly not expecting him to interfere.
"I think you all should leave," Julien said. His voice was calm, but it was cold enough to frost the windows.
Arabella scoffed, trying to maintain her bravado. "And why would we do that, Julien? Since when do you play with the help?"
"She's with me."
Silence. Dead, heavy silence.
Whispers exploded instantly across the cafeteria like a wildfire. The bullies froze. Arabella's face twitched, her mask of perfection slipping for a split second. Camille's smirk vanished.
"You're defending her?" Arabella hissed.
Julien's expression didn't change. "I am. Now, move along, Arabella. You're making the room feel crowded."
Arabella blinked once… twice… then leaned back with a tight, poisonous smile. "Fine," she said lightly. "Enjoy your little… charity project, Julien. Just remember that projects usually end up in the trash when they're finished."
She turned sharply, her girls trailing behind her like a toxic cloud. But before leaving, Arabella glanced back over her shoulder and mouthed three words: Watch your back.
Julien exhaled, running a hand through his golden hair. "I'm sorry about that. They're… complicated. Wealth doesn't always come with manners."
I shook my head quickly. "No, no… thank you. Really. You didn't have to do that."
He smiled at me…soft, reassuring, and warm like the first day of spring. "Come on," he said gently. "Eat before it gets cold. You'll need your energy for the Music Hall."
After lunch, we walked out together, which apparently counted as a national scandal. Every hallway we passed through buzzed with the sound of my name and his.
"So," Julien said, breaking the tension as we reached the West Wing. "Ready for your next class? The Music Club is the heart of this school."
"I'm… excited. And terrified," I admitted.
His face brightened instantly. "Good. I've been looking forward to showing you the one place where names and bank accounts don't matter as much as the notes you play."
We entered the Music Hall, and my breath caught. It was a cathedral for sound. Soft golden lights hung from the ceiling. Velvet-lined chairs surrounded the large stage. Instruments rested in polished cases, violins, cellos, harps, and brass instruments gleaming under the spotlights. A grand piano sat at the center like a throne.
I stepped forward slowly, my heart thrumming. "It's…" I whispered. "It's like walking into a dream."
Julien stood beside me, watching my expression instead of the room. "I thought you'd like it. It's the only place in St. Aurelia that doesn't feel like a museum."
He introduced me to the other members. Most had kind faces and curious smiles, though a few shot me wary glances.
"So," said a girl with auburn hair, lifting a brow. "You're the one the Director mentioned? You play?"
Julien nodded, a spark of pride in his eyes. "She plays violin."
Seven heads turned toward me simultaneously.
"Um… yes," I said sheepishly, holding my battered case a little tighter. "A little."
Julien chuckled. "A little? We'll see."
They asked me to play. A simple audition. Something small to see where I fit in the ensemble. My fingers trembled as I lifted my violin. The wood felt light and familiar against my chin. I inhaled slowly, smelling the rosin and the old varnish.
Then, I played.
The first note rang out…warm, clear, and vibrant. The hall hushed. I let the music guide me, my eyes half-closed. I wasn't in a school for the elite anymore; I was back in the orphanage attic, playing for the stars. The melodies flowed effortlessly, shifting from soft, weeping movements to soaring, fierce crescendos.
When I finished, the last note lingered in the rafters. No one moved. No one breathed.
"Holy…" one boy whispered.
"She's incredible," another murmured.
"Isabelle," a girl breathed, "you're… you're gifted. Where did you learn to play like that?"
I lowered the violin, my cheeks burning. Julien was staring at me as if he'd seen a sunrise for the first time. "That was…" He swallowed. "You're amazing, Isabelle."
My heart jumped. But from the doorway, someone else watched.
Dmitri.
His dark gray eyes were locked onto me. They were unreadable, conflicted, and shadowed by a strange irritation. He didn't clap. He didn't smile.
"Interesting," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for only me to hear as he turned away.
By evening, I was exhausted but glowing inside. The sky had already deepened into a soft, bruised lavender by the time I pushed open the hostel doors. My violin case felt lighter than usual.
I returned to my dorm room, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed on the bed with a dreamy sigh. The silk sheets felt cool against my skin. I grabbed my phone and tapped Sister Marianne's contact.
"Sister Marianne?" I said breathlessly when she picked up. "Oh, today was… incredible. And terrifying. And magic."
A warm laugh answered me. "Slow down, my dear. How are you? Truly? Are they treating you well?"
I let out a shaky little laugh. "I'm… I don't even know. Happy? Overwhelmed? All of it. The food is amazing, Sister. And the music… I've never heard anything like it."
"I'm glad, Isabelle. How are the other students?"
I shifted on the bed, my voice lowering. "Some are… difficult. But I met someone. A boy. His name is Julien. He helped me today. He's in the Music Club too. He plays the piano like… like he was born for it."
"I see," she said, a smile audible in her tone. "Someone made an impression. Just remember why you are there, Isabelle. Keep your heart guarded, but your eyes open."
"I will, Sister. I miss the little ones. Tell Hana I'll bring her some real blue crayons when I visit."
"I will. Get some rest, my dear. Tomorrow is waiting."
We exchanged goodnights. I held the phone to my chest for a moment longer, letting the warmth of her voice fill the empty spaces of the room. Then I curled under my blanket, my violin case tucked beside me.
For the first time in fifteen years, I felt it. Hope. Real, bright, impossible hope. Tomorrow… couldn't come fast enough.