Rain's POV
Everyone left the lecture hall.Every. Single. One.
Books slammed shut. Bags zipped. Laughter faded.The girls that whispered about my dress were the loudest to leave."Look at her trying to pretend she's normal now.""Birthday girl thinks she's Cinderella.""The dress must've been on sale."
They never said it to me.But then again, they never had to.
I waited.Let them go.Let the room drain of bodies and noise and heat.
Only when the last shadow left and the door clattered shut behind them—did I finally breathe.
I stood up from my seat slowly, like I was afraid to wrinkle the only pretty thing I'd worn in months. My hand touched the edge of my desk. I was still half-waiting for the usual sharp voice to slice through me—
"Wang, you going to a funeral or a fashion show?"
But it never came.
I turned to pack my things—And there he was.
Sebastian.Still here.Leaning against the wall by the window, arms crossed, watching me.
I froze.
His hair was messy, like always. His shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, neck tattoo peeking just above his collar. But his face…His face didn't hold that smug cruelty I'd memorized for two years.
He looked tired.Almost… nervous.
"Happy birthday," he said quietly. No smirk. No sarcasm.Just words. Simple. Bare.
I stared at him, uncertain. My fingers gripped my notebook too tightly.
He walked toward me—slow, like he thought I might run.I considered it.
But I didn't.
He reached into his bag and pulled something out.
A box.
Wrapped in deep blue paper with a silver ribbon. Not big. Not loud.But beautiful.
He placed it on the desk between us.Didn't force it into my hands. Didn't push.
"Open it when you want to," he said. "Or don't. Up to you."
I said nothing.I couldn't.
My throat felt too full.
I think he waited for me to speak. For a second. Maybe two.But I didn't trust my voice.I didn't trust him.And yet, somehow, I didn't want him to go.
He looked at me—really looked at me—for a breath longer.
And then he turned.Walked out.
No cruel remark. No laugh. No name thrown like a knife.
Just silence.And a box.
I sat down again, the room echoing with nothing but the sound of my heart trying to make sense of kindness from the boy who once made me afraid to exist.
I didn't open the box.
Not yet.
But I held it.
And for the first time in a long time…I didn't cry.