Lena creaked open the front door, moving as quietly as possible. The hallway light was off, and for a second she felt a small, foolish hope: maybe her mom had gone to bed early. Maybe she could slip into her room without a word and pretend this night never ended. Pretend the warmth still lingered on her skin.
She eased the door shut behind her with a soft click.
But the moment she stepped inside, toes brushing the edge of the welcome mat, she saw her mother—seated at the kitchen table, bathed in the soft overhead light. She was already watching her.
"Lena… you're back," her mom said, standing slowly.
Lena froze. Her backpack felt suddenly heavier, like it was dragging her entire body down. She gave a tired, quiet sigh. Of course her mom was awake. Of course she would have to go through this—the small talk, the hovering concern, the invisible wall between them neither of them ever quite acknowledged.
"You were out really late," her mom continued, walking toward her. "I came home before you. That's rare."
Lena gave a half-nod, keeping her face neutral.
"You were really studying?"
The way she asked it—it wasn't quite accusatory, but there was a familiar tightness in her voice, the kind that scraped under Lena's skin. A tone that made her feel like she was already caught.
"I was studying," Lena replied smoothly. The lie slid out easily, practiced and hollow. It didn't matter if her mom believed it or not. It just had to be said.
A long pause followed. Her mother didn't push back. She just stood there, silent, as if waiting for something Lena didn't know how to give.
The air between them was thick. Lena shifted her weight, fingers fiddling with the edge of her hoodie sleeve. Her throat felt dry. These conversations always felt like she was trapped in a room with no doors—awkward, inevitable, and strangely exhausting. She wondered, distantly, if other people felt this uncomfortable around their parents, or if this kind of tension was reserved just for her.
"You know," her mom said finally, "your homeroom teacher called me. Mr. Yon. He said you've been struggling a bit in class."
Lena's stomach clenched.
"He said he assigned someone to help you," her mom continued, watching her carefully.
Lena could barely breathe for a second. Something in her mom's voice twisted the knife—not angry, but laced with a subtle knowing. The kind that said I see you. The kind that made Lena feel exposed, as if every fragile, private part of her had been pulled into the light.
How much did he tell her?
"Yeah…" Lena mumbled. "The class president is helping me. I was with her."
She said the last part quietly, almost like it hurt to admit.
Her mom's expression shifted.
"Oh, really? You were hanging out with her that late?" There was a brightness in her voice now—sudden and eager. "Do you two get along?"
Lena hesitated, but the image of Umire's soft smile, the way her eyes held something secret and electric, flashed behind her eyes.
"Yeah," she murmured. "We do."
Her mom's face lit up more. "You're friends? You have friends? That's great!" she said, clapping her hands lightly together. Her smile stretched wide, too wide. Lena didn't miss the slight strain behind it.
It was like her mom was trying too hard to be happy.
The moment lingered, a little too long.
Then her smile faltered, tension creeping back in like a shadow under the door.
"Friends… okay. But you're doing okay, right?" her mom asked suddenly. "You're not stressed? They're not… making you feel bad or anything? You're fitting in fine?"
The questions came fast, tripping over each other. Her mother's voice had gone tight again, sharp with that familiar anxiety.
Lena sighed. She could feel the walls closing in.
She knew what this was really about. Knew it without needing to hear it.
Red hair. Kind smiles turned brittle. Classmates who she called friends smiled warmly at her, then looked at her like she was something broken. Unfixable. Disgusting.
But the worst part had been her own mother's face. That expression—equal parts fear and disappointment. Like Lena had turned into something unrecognizable overnight.
She could still remember the silence at the dinner table afterward. The careful steps. The shrinking.
"I'm fine," Lena said shaking the memories of the past away. The words came out flat, automatic. "I'm getting along with everyone. Don't worry about it."
Her mom didn't respond right away. She just stood there, looking at her with those tired, cautious eyes. The kind that said she wanted to believe her. But wasn't sure she could.
"Okay," she finally whispered. "Okay…"
Lena felt the pull of the night still clinging to her—Umire's voice, soft and mischievous; the weight of her gaze; the almost-touch of her fingers.
The world in Umire's room had felt like something else. Something untouched by everything Lena wanted to forget.
Now that she was back in her house, it all felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.
Her mom looked at her in silence, the air thick with something unspoken. A shadow of worry lingered in her expression, like a ghost refusing to be exorcised.
"Well… okay then," her mom repeated at last, her voice quiet but clipped. "It's late. You should get to sleep—you've got school tomorrow. Don't worry about lunch. I'll grab something from the cafeteria… I'll get myself something too."
She brushed past Lena gently, the subtle scent of her shampoo trailing behind like a memory. Halfway up the stairs, she paused and glanced back.
"I'm going to bed. You should too. Good night."
The smile she gave was paper-thin. A performance. Polite. Distant. Lena stood frozen in the entryway, listening to her mother's footsteps recede up the stairs—soft thuds swallowed by the house—until the final click of a door shut everything into silence.
Only then did she exhale. A long, tired breath spilled from her lips, as though she'd been holding it the entire time. The air felt less heavy, though not quite free.
She dropped her bag to the floor with a thump, the strap sliding off her aching shoulder. The pain was small, but grounding. Real. Unlike the conversation that had just passed like a fog she couldn't hold onto.
Moving through the kitchen, she began gathering ingredients from the fridge—tomatoes, lettuce, deli meat, slices of cheese—her fingers working on autopilot as her mind wandered. She felt she owed her mom much more then she could give at the moment, but this… this was something small she could do right now. Maybe it meant nothing.
She made two sandwiches with mechanical precision, the motions practiced and clean. But every now and then, her hands trembled—just slightly—when her thoughts wandered too far.
You're disgusting… everyone can see it. Why can't you?
The memory of her mother's old voice—the one that was colder, harder—wrapped around her neck like a wire. Her stomach churned, nausea creeping in uninvited. Every nerve of her skin felt like it was on fire itching to get out as though she were a parasite as glimpse of memories flooded in. That look. That stare of disdain. Of blame. As though she were something to be scrubbed out of existence.
She froze over the cutting board, eyes wide and unfocused, fingers tightening into fists. The kitchen swam before her, blurry at the edges.
And then—metal. Cold. Familiar.
Her hand moved instinctively, reaching beneath her collar, wrapping around the chain resting against her chest. She pulled the half-heart pendant out, letting it fall into her palm.
A faint "U" was engraved into it.
She stared at it, her breathing slowing. The pendant was heavy, and a dark blood red color that swirled with black seeming to trance anyone who looked at it too long like a spell, but heavy with meaning. With memory.
The thought of Umire leaning close, their two halves clicking together into a perfect heart, played behind her eyelids. The faint pressure of Umire's lips brushing her cheek still lingered on her skin like a secret only they shared.
Heat bloomed across her face.
She pressed the pendant tighter between her palms, grounding herself in the cold weight of it. Slowly, slowly, the thick, suffocating sensation eased, leaving behind a fragile calm.
Finishing the sandwiches, she wrapped them neatly and set them on the table with a sticky note beside them:
"Here's lunch. Have a good day at work!"
The robotic affection she felt obligated to give her mother.
She headed upstairs, dragging herself into her nighttime routine—shower, teeth, pajamas. Each step a little slower, the fatigue of the day crashing down on her like waves against rocks. When she finally collapsed into bed, her body felt heavy, her bones sinking deep into the mattress.
Her eyes drifted shut, and her thoughts were no longer her own.
In the haze before sleep, she saw dark eyes—piercing and infinite—looking into her like they could see the parts of herself she tried to hide. She saw raven hair spilling across her pillow like ink in water, and a voice whispering her name like a spell.
Umire.
A shiver crawled up her spine, but she didn't resist it.
She welcomed it.
She fell asleep smiling.
—--------------------------------------------------
The bell rang, signaling the end of school. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices filled the room, and the low hum of chatter quickly swelled into a chorus of students shaking off the weight of the day.
"Hey, Umire! Wanna hang out with us today?"
The voice came from the back of the classroom where Umire sat, and though it wasn't directed at her, Lena's hands paused mid-motion. She stared down at her desk as her heart gave a strange flutter.
Without thinking, she shoved her notebooks haphazardly into her bag, breaking her usual routine of lining them up neatly like stacked bricks. She didn't want to hear Umire say yes. She didn't want to hear Umire say no either.
"Hey, Lena!"
Lena blinked up to see Luka standing beside her desk, his smile easy and warm.
"Oh… hi," she said, raising a small hand in greeting, her voice too soft to fully match his energy.
"So… you doing anything after school? Want to walk home together? Maybe hang out a bit?"
There it was again—his voice, so full of friendly promise. Lena didn't dislike Luka. He never pressed her too hard, and being around him wasn't exhausting the way it could be with other people. He had a freeing kind of presence, like someone you could drift beside instead of having to anchor yourself to.
But before she could respond, Luka asked another question.
"By the way, where were you at lunch today? I was gonna ask you to eat with me and Sarah, but you were gone before I could catch you."
Lena's mouth went dry.
The memory came unbidden, too vivid to ignore. It had been four days now—four lunches spent hidden away with Umire. Just the two of them, in a space that felt like it existed outside of time, outside of school, outside of everyone else.
That first day, she hadn't known what to expect. When Umire told her to meet her at the back of the school, Lena had hesitated. But curiosity—or maybe something warmer, more desperate—had driven her to go.
She still remembered the way Umire had looked when she found her there. Leaning against the wall, the sun brushing her face in soft gold, cheeks faintly flushed as if just the sight of Lena brought her joy.
And then she had smiled—that quiet, devastating smile that always made Lena forget how to breathe.
Umire had taken her hand, fingers threading through hers without hesitation, and led her down an empty hallway. Lena followed, half in a daze, as if sleepwalking through a dream only she was lucky enough to have.
They'd stopped in front of a door Lena had never noticed before. Umire opened it and gestured her inside.
It was an old clubroom—forgotten by time, dimly lit with dust lingering in the air. There was a long table in the center, a chalkboard, and mismatched chairs stacked haphazardly. The space was nothing special. But with Umire there, it became something sacred.
"Let's eat here from now on," Umire had said as they sat across from each other. "It's quiet. No one comes here anymore. It's just ours."
"How did you even find this place?" Lena had asked, blinking.
"I wanted to eat with you," Umire replied simply. "Just us. So I looked around until I found somewhere that could belong to only us."
Lena remembered how Umire's fingers had brushed hers again, delicate yet certain. How her voice had dropped to a whisper, the words still echoing in Lena's head like a vow.
"This is our space now. Just for the two of us. Our secret."
A thrill had run down Lena's spine then, and it did now too as she stood in front of Luka, struggling to answer.
The words echoed in Lena's mind as she glanced at Luka. "It's our secret. Don't tell anyone." That's what Umire had said about the room. Lena's thoughts raced, scrambling for a believable excuse—something that would make Luka stop asking questions.
For the past four days, she had spent lunch hidden away with Umire in the old, abandoned club room, just the two of them. Each time, she'd bolted from the classroom before Luka could invite her to join him and Sarah again. Not that Sarah seemed to notice her absence. Even when Lena had sat with them, she usually just hovered at the edge of the conversation—silent, awkward, unsure how to step in as words passed over her like wind she couldn't catch.
She couldn't tell him the truth.
She couldn't tell him that each lunch, she ran to Umire like she was something Lena couldn't breathe without. That each time their eyes met across that empty room, Lena felt like she belonged somewhere for the first time in years.
"Well, um…" Lena murmured, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as Luka looked at her, waiting for an answer. His gaze was steady, too steady. Her thoughts scrambled in search of something to say—anything—but her mind was frustratingly blank.
She should've expected this. Luka was warm, friendly, and they shared a quiet sort of rapport. Of course he'd ask her eventually. Still, the timing felt cruel.
"Lena! Come on, let's go!"
The voice sliced through her spiraling thoughts like sunlight cracking through a door—and it was unmistakable. Her breath hitched.
Both she and Luka turned toward the sound.
Umire stood at the edge of the classroom, already halfway to them. Her presence was magnetic—eyes locked on Lena, expression bright and familiar in a way that made Lena's chest tighten. Behind her, the group that had been clinging to her side moments ago looked on, confused and half-heartedly trying to pull her back.
Umire didn't look at them again. She stopped in front of Lena's desk and leaned down slightly, her hand outstretched, gaze soft.
"Let's go," she said, fingers brushing Lena's like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And just like that, Lena stood—without resistance, like she'd been waiting for this moment. Like her body moved on instinct.
"Oh… Umire," Luka started awkwardly. His voice drew Umire's attention away from Lena for the first time. She turned her head slowly.
The warmth disappeared from her face.
Her eyes, once gentle, hardened with cold precision as she looked at Luka—an almost surgical shift that made the air feel ten degrees colder. Lena saw the way Luka hesitated, his mouth twitching slightly as if trying to decide whether to keep going or back down.
"I was just asking Lena if she wanted to hang out with me after school…"
His voice trailed off, too unsure to finish the sentence.
Umire didn't blink.
"She's with me today," she said flatly. Then, as if catching herself, she offered him a small, practiced smile—polished and meaningless. A smile she wore for others.
It was the kind of smile that never reached her eyes.
She turned back to Lena immediately after, her attention snapping back like Luka was nothing more than a passing blur in her periphery. Her fingers tightened around Lena's hand again.
"Let's go," she repeated, her voice a little more eager now, almost impatient. There was a quiet intensity to her grip.
But before they could leave—
"Wait, Umire! Why are you hanging out with her? What about us?"
One of the girls from Umire's usual group called out, her voice high and disbelieving.
Lena felt the shift before she even saw it.
Umire's fingers loosened.
She turned her head slightly, still facing Lena, and let out a soft sigh. "One sec, okay? I'll meet you at the school gate," she said gently.
She smiled again—different this time. Soft, warm, and real. The kind of smile she only ever gave to Lena.
Then, just like that, she let go.
Lena watched her walk back across the classroom, her shoulders squaring as she rejoined the students who had called her. The difference was staggering.
With Lena, Umire was something warm and secretive.
With them, she was a performance.
They drank her in like she was something out of reach, too beautiful to touch but too brilliant to ignore. Her dark hair shimmered in the light, and her eyes—so clear, so calculated—were now layered with polite interest and effortless charm.
Lena didn't move.
She just stood there and stared.
Even knowing those smiles were fake—even knowing she was the only one who ever got the real ones—something inside her burned.
The others wanted her.
Everyone wanted her.
And for just a moment, Lena hated that she had to share even a single second of Umire with anyone else.
"So… things are going well with Umire."
Luka's voice pulled her out of the haze. Lena turned to him, startled.
He wasn't smiling exactly—there was something puzzled in his expression, a half-laugh caught behind his teeth like he wasn't sure if he should say what he was thinking.
"You two really are besties… but in kind of a weird way."
Lena blinked. "Weird?"
"Well…" Luka scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a second. "Umire looks like she wants to murder me whenever I talk to you. And you kind of look the same way when she talks to other people."
He let out a breathy chuckle. "It's like you're close. But also… not? It's hard to explain. You two give off this energy like… magnets flipped the wrong way. You repel but can't stay apart."
Lena didn't respond. She just stared at him.
Luka laughed again, awkwardly this time. "Sorry. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Just the vibe I get. I'll stop butting in."
He picked up his bag, slinging it over one shoulder.
"Well, guess you're with Umire today anyway. See you tomorrow, desk mate."
He gave her a short wave before heading out. Sarah and Kai were already waiting for him just beyond the door. Lena saw them grin and nudge him as he joined their little trio.
She looked away.
Her gaze found Umire again—still talking to the group, still smiling in that perfectly composed way. Lena couldn't hear the words, but she could read the body language. Umire had mastered the performance.
And yet… she had told Lena to wait.
Lena slowly picked up her bag and left the classroom. She didn't stop. She didn't look back. Her feet carried her down the hall and out the front doors until she found herself leaning against the wall near the school gate, the sun dipping low behind the building.
She pulled out her phone and started scrolling.
But she wasn't reading anything.
Her eyes flicked up every few seconds.
She was waiting.
Waiting for Umire—just like she always would.