The cafeteria was alive with its usual afternoon chaos—trays clattering, conversations overlapping, and the faint sound of sneakers squeaking on tile floors. Sevira sat at the table near the corner window, peeling the wrapper off her sandwich but barely touching it. Her eyes kept drifting to the empty seat across from her.
Scott's seat.
Emma was giggling about something Kyle said, while Sky flipped through his phone lazily. Alex munched on her apple slices, oblivious to Sevira's stare.
"Hey," Sevira asked, keeping her voice casual, "Kyle—have you seen Scott today?"
Kyle looked up from his soda. "Nah. He's not in school."
"Is he sick?"
Kyle shrugged. "Kinda. Said he wasn't feeling well this morning."
Sevira's brow furrowed. Not feeling well? That could mean anything with Scott. The guy was either joking or had a whole storm brewing behind those calm eyes.
As she sat with that thought, Sky nudged Alex's arm. "Hey, can you help me out with math later?"
Alex blinked. "Me?"
"Yeah," he said, tapping a few notes on his phone. "I'm completely lost with this chapter. If I fail another test, Mr. Brooks is going to eat me alive."
"Sure," Alex said with a grin. "I got you."
Sevira tried not to let her face change, but something tugged at her chest. She forced a smile and bit into her sandwich, even though her appetite was long gone.
⸻
Later that evening, Sevira stood in the kitchen, her earbuds in, but not listening to the music. A pot simmered on the stove, filling the space with a warm, soothing scent. Chicken noodle soup—classic, simple, comforting. The kind her mom used to make when Alex is sick. It felt right and healing enough.
She ladled the steaming soup into a thermos, tightened the lid, then wiped her hands on a towel. Her eyes glanced at her phone. She had tried calling Scott earlier, but he hadn't picked up.
She typed out a message:
Text Message:
Hey. I made you something. I'm on my way over.
No reply.
Still, she grabbed her bag, tucked the thermos inside, and headed out the door.
⸻
By the time she reached Scott's house, the sky had shifted to a cool purple, the sun dipping low behind the suburban rooftops. The mansion's gates opened automatically after she rang the bell. A guard recognized her and offered a polite nod as she stepped inside.
The front doors stood slightly ajar.
As she walked into the marble-floored foyer, she paused. Voices echoed from deeper inside. She followed them, careful not to make noise.
Across the grand hall, she saw Scott near the front entrance. He was speaking to a tall man in a dark tailored coat—his father, no doubt. The man's hand was gesturing sharply, while Scott stood stiffly, arms crossed. There was tension in his shoulders, his jaw set tight.
A moment later, his father turned without a word and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Scott exhaled sharply and pressed his palm to his forehead.
Sevira hesitated for a second, then stepped forward.
Before she could say anything, a soft coughing sound drew her attention to the side. Through an open doorway, she saw a woman on the couch, bundled under a blanket, struggling to keep her head up.
Scott knelt beside her with a cup of water, holding out a pill. "Mom, please."
The woman shook her head weakly. "No more. I'm just tired. I don't want to."
"But you need it."
"I said no, Scott."
Sevira stepped quietly into the room—and froze.
Fiona.
The woman on the couch was Fiona. The same woman Sevira had saved in front of the supermarket weeks ago. The same one whose purse she'd chased after. The same one she'd helped breathe through an asthma attack and held steady until she could take her pills.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flickered across Fiona's face.
"You," Fiona whispered, her voice fragile but amazed. "You again."
Sevira moved quickly to her side, offering a calm smile. "Hey. It's okay. I'm here. Just take it slowly, alright? Please listen to Scott."
This time, Fiona nodded, trusting her. She reached for the pill and took it with Sevira's help. After sipping the water, she exhaled shakily and leaned back.
Scott watched the exchange silently. "You've met before?"
Fiona chuckled faintly, her voice still hoarse. "She saved me twice. Outside Briar Hill Market. My purse was snatched. She got it back… and calmed me down when I couldn't breathe."
Scott blinked at Sevira, a flash of surprise and something else—something warmer—in his eyes.
"She's a good girl," Fiona murmured. "Kind."
"Mom, just rest now," Scott said gently, pulling the blanket over her.
Fiona nodded, eyes drifting shut.
Sevira stood awkwardly for a moment, still holding the thermos in her hand.
Scott finally turned to her. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."
The moment Sevira stepped into Scott's room, she froze.
It was nothing like she imagined. The soft scent of cedar and fresh laundry hung in the air. Creamy walls were adorned with abstract black-and-white art, and floor-to-ceiling windows opened to a view of the sprawling backyard garden. A navy velvet couch sat beneath one of the windows, and across from it, a massive flat screen was mounted above a sleek black fireplace. His king-size bed—with charcoal-gray sheets and pillows stacked like clouds—looked almost too perfect to sleep in. The room whispered quiet wealth and refined taste.
Scott walked in behind her, shutting the door with a soft click. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still puzzled.
"You know my mom?"
Sevira turned around, offering a small smile. "Yeah… we've met. Twice now, actually."
She held up the insulated container in her hand, shifting the conversation. "I made you some chicken noodle soup. You weren't in school, and Kyle said you were sick. Thought it might help."
Scott raised an eyebrow. "You cooked?"
She smirked. "Don't sound so surprised."
He gestured to the couch. "Sit. Please."
She took a seat while he lowered himself beside her. He looked… tired. Not physically sick, but worn out, as if carrying something too heavy for one person.
Sevira passed him the container, and he opened it slowly, letting the steam rise into the air. The rich scent of homemade broth, tender chicken, and soft vegetables made his eyes flick up in disbelief. "This smells… amazing."
She watched him take the first spoonful, nodding as the warmth filled his chest.
But her eyes didn't leave him. "You don't look sick," she said gently.
Scott didn't respond at first. Just stared at the soup like it had the answers he'd been avoiding. Then, his voice dropped, quiet and hoarse. "I'm not. Not in the way people expect, anyway."
She leaned in slightly, waiting. "Talk to me please. The truth, you can tell me about anything, I'm here."
He took a deep breath. "My parents… they've been at each other's throats for as long as I can remember. They fight like strangers who never loved each other. Yelling, cold silences… pretending in public. It messes with your head after a while."
His jaw clenched. "I hate it. I hate what it's done to my mom. I hate what it's done to me. And sometimes, I'm scared I'll turn out like my dad."
Sevira placed her hand gently over his. "You won't."
His eyes met hers, searching.
"You're nothing like him," she continued softly. "The fact that you care this much… that you feel all this… it means you're already different."
He didn't speak. He just looked at her like he wasn't used to being heard. Like he didn't know what to do with kindness.
Without thinking, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.
He tensed—only for a second—before slowly melting into the hug. His head dropped to her shoulder, his breath shallow against her neck.
But then she pulled back, heart racing.
"You should eat before it gets cold," she whispered.
He gave a small smile, nodding. "Yeah… thanks."
They spent the next hour talking. Nothing heavy. Just music, classes, random stuff about their childhoods. By the time she stood to leave, the light outside had dimmed to gold.
At the doorway, he walked her out, hesitating.
"Thank you… for today. Really."
Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
Her breath hitched.
"Take care," she managed.
As the door shut behind her, Scott turned back into the house. He didn't even make it two steps before his mother's voice floated from the hallway.
"She's sweet," Fiona said, leaning casually on the bannister, a knowing smile on her lips. "It's a small world."
Scott chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's just a friend."
Fiona raised an eyebrow. "She better be… your girlfriend. Before someone else snatches her."
Scott looked away—but he was smiling.
——————
The sun filtered through the courtyard trees like golden threads, casting a soft glow over the school grounds. Laughter floated in the air, sneakers slapped against the pavement, and the low murmur of teenage chatter buzzed around them.
Sevira leaned against the picnic table beside Alex, sipping her iced vanilla latte while flipping through notes. Across from them sat Scott, Sky, Kyle, and Emma—each absorbed in the easy rhythm of their conversations.
Scott's gaze kept drifting. His eyes lingered on Sevira like a silent confession. She looked up once—and their eyes met.
Everything paused.
She didn't smile, but her lips curved in the faintest flicker of something warm. The intensity between them crackled softly, like static in the air before a storm.
Kyle's voice broke the moment. "You guys ready for bio lab?"
Scott tore his gaze away, eyes blinking as if waking from a dream. Sevira just tucked a curl behind her ear, her heart thudding once, loudly.
⸻
At the far end of the hallway, Dave, a broad-shouldered new guy in a faded Letterman jacket, leaned against his locker with an easy smirk. He wasn't alone—his friend, Mason, stood beside him, watching the group.
Dave nudged Mason. "You see those two?" He tilted his chin toward Sevira and Alex.
"Yeah?"
"I'm gonna have them both," he said, his tone cocky, his smile unsettling. "The quiet one… and the firecracker. Just watch."
Mason snorted. "You sure about that?"
Dave just grinned wider. "Very."
⸻
Later that day, the sterile scent of the lab hung in the air—glass clinking softly, gas taps hissing. The overhead lights buzzed.
Alex waited near the workbench, flipping through her binder as she waited for Sky. She wore a soft beige hoodie with her hair in a messy bun, airpods in one ear.
Dave walked in—uninvited.
"Hey, Alex," he said, voice low and flirtatious. "Need a hand?"
She didn't look up. "I'm fine, thanks."
But he didn't leave. His hand brushed the small of her back.
She jolted. "Don't touch me."
He chuckled. "Relax. Just being friendly."
He moved closer—too close—pressing her against the counter. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she didn't panic.
"Back off, Dave."
He leaned in. "You and your sister playing hard to get, huh?"
Before he could say another word, the door slammed open.
"Hey!" Sky's voice rang out like thunder.
In a flash, he was across the lab. He yanked Dave back with a force that sent him stumbling.
Dave laughed. "You her little protector now?"
Sky didn't answer. His fist answered for him.
The punch cracked against Dave's jaw. Then another. The room erupted in chaos—lab stools clattered to the floor, students screamed, and within seconds, teachers burst in.
⸻
The principal's office smelled of old paper and coffee. Sky sat with his arms crossed, bruised knuckles wrapped in gauze. Dave nursed a black eye, scowling in silence.
Alex stood outside the office, talking with Emma, Kyle, and Sevira.
"I told them everything," she said, voice shaking slightly. "He came at me. Sky stopped him. That's the truth."
Sevira's jaw was tight, eyes narrowed. "He won't get away with it."
A moment later, Sky stepped out. His gaze scanned the group—and landed on Alex. Their eyes locked. She stepped forward.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He shrugged. "Any time."
⸻
As the group walked down the corridor, the tension still lingered in the air like smoke after a fire. Emma whispered to Kyle, "That guy's dangerous."
Kyle nodded. "And obsessed."
Dave, watching them from across the hallway, rubbed his bruised lip—and smiled.
"This isn't over," he murmured to himself.