The week started off with rain. Not the heavy, angry kind—just a light, steady drizzle that made everything smell like chalk and wet cement. Scarlet enjoyed that kind of weather. It felt like the world was slowing down, softening a bit. Yet, that Monday morning, everything felt unexpectedly sharp.
Because Rudd wasn't in class.
Again.
"Maybe he's sick," Amara suggested, flipping through her notes.
"He seemed fine yesterday," Scarlet replied before she could stop herself.
She hadn't intended to sound so concerned. But deep down, she was.
She hadn't talked to him since their last encounter. The moment he said, "I don't explain myself to people who don't trust me," those words lingered in her mind longer than she wanted to admit. They'd both left the conversation angry—but she kept wondering if he thought she would reach out.
Truth is, she wasn't sure if she wanted to. But she definitely missed him.
Meanwhile, Dapo was still around, always bringing that casual charm, sticking close but not intruding.
At lunch, he offered her a spot next to him, and she accepted.
He joked about a class prank. She couldn't help but laugh along.
But when he said, "I like talking to you," something inside twisted. It didn't come off as a full compliment. More like he was saying, "You're not him" — which maybe was exactly what he appreciated.
During prep, something unexpected happened.
A junior named Tolu — the one who always lugged around too many books — burst into the staff room, breathless. Everyone looked over.
"Rudd!" she gasped. "He collapsed near the sick bay!"
Scarlet was on her feet in an instant, barely realizing she was running until she was outside.
She found him slumped on a bench outside the clinic, head against the wall. His breathing was slow but steady. One of the nurses was fanning him with a file.
"He's okay," she reassured, spotting Scarlet. "Just worn out. He hasn't been eating well or sleeping much."
Scarlet felt a tightness in her chest.
Rudd opened his eyes slowly, and their gazes met, but he looked away first.
She sat down next to him anyway.
"I thought—" she started.
"I'm fine," he interrupted.
"You don't look fine."
Silence hung between them.
Then he said, "I didn't take the Chemistry paper."
"I know."
More silence.
Scarlet took a breath. "You know... You frustrate me."
That earned him a half-smile. "Likewise."
"I'm serious, Rudd. You don't talk to anyone, you shut everyone out, and you act like you're too tired to care—but I can tell you do care. You just pretend otherwise."
He stared at her then. Slowly. Carefully.
"I don't pretend," he replied. "I just protect what I care about."
That struck a chord with her.
Somewhere deep down.
Later that night, she found a folded piece of paper in her locker. Not a love letter—just a sketch of her, smiling with one hand in her hair.d
And beneath it, a line:
"Some things are easier to draw than to say."
Scarlet held the paper delicately, like it was made of glass.a
The next day, Dapo noticed she seemed quieter. He didn't pry.
Instead, he walked her to the library and said, "I'll be here. Whenever you need to talk… or not."
She smiled, feeling thankful yet confused.
Wednesday came with another twist.
Miss Remi, their strict Chemistry teacher, stormed into class waving a test paper.
"This is a model answer," she announced. "Perfect. Too perfect."
Everyone stared.
She slammed the paper down on the table. "Rudd, this is yours."
Scarlet felt her heart drop.
"Did you cheat?" the teacher asked bluntly.
Rudd stood up slowly, calm and weary.
"No."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then how did you get 100%?"
"I studied."
"How Convenient." She smirked
Scarlet stood up. "He didn't cheat."
Miss Remi frowned. "You're not his lawyer."
"Maybe not. But I was there. He studied day and night. He earned that score."
The class fell silent.
Miss Remi looked at both of them for a long moment before letting out a sigh. "Fine. I'll overlook it. But just this once."
As she walked out, Scarlet glanced at Rudd.
He didn't thank her.
Just nodded.
But somehow, that felt like enough
That night, in her diary:
"Some people love quietly. Some people protect by pulling away.
But love isn't always loud. Sometimes, it's in the almosts.
The almost-confessions.
The almost-touch.
The almost-us."
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting.
Because almost was never a sure thing.
It just lingered.
Just like silence after a song.
Too loud to ignore.
Too soft to hold on to.