Mira sat cross-legged on a faded picnic blanket, her sprained ankle resting carefully atop a folded jacket. A half-empty bottle of bubble solution stood beside her, and the soft breeze tugged gently at her hair. She raised the wand to her lips and blew, sending a stream of bubbles into the quiet air. They floated lazily between the planter boxes and low shrubs, catching bits of golden light as they drifted.
The rooftop garden was usually her escape, but today even the blooming lavender and rosemary couldn't fully settle her nerves. Her thoughts kept circling back to the argument she'd had with Adrian.
Another breath. More bubbles. They danced around her like little satellites, swirling and popping against leaves and railings.
She felt ridiculous, sitting there alone, blowing bubbles like a five-year-old—but at least it was something. With her ankle keeping her grounded, quite literally, she couldn't go far. So here she was, trying to clear her head, alone on the rooftop.
That was, until she heard the door click open behind her.
Adrian stepped into the rooftop botanical garden, his eyes scanning the serene space for a moment of peace. The day had been mentally draining, filled with back-to-back tasks and a project that seemed to never end. The garden, with its quiet ambiance and lush greenery, was exactly what he needed to clear his mind.
But then he paused. Floating lazily through the air were dozens of bubbles, catching the afternoon light in a rainbow of colors. The peaceful quiet of the garden was punctuated only by the gentle popping of the bubbles as they burst, one by one.
And sitting right in the middle of it all, on one of the comfy couches, was Mira. She froze as Adrian stepped into the garden, her eyes widening in surprise. Of all the people she could have hoped to avoid in that rare moment of relaxation, the last person she expected to see was Adrian.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Adrian said, his tone almost teasing.
Mira exhaled sharply, still blowing a few more bubbles before turning her head to look at him. "Me neither."
Adrian smirked, eyes shifting around at the colorful bubbles. "So, didn't you have time to prepare for your policies? Still had time to play with bubbles?"
Mira stopped blowing the bubbles. "Well, it was about smart work, not hard work," she responded, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "My brain stopped working, and my ankle stopped me from walking. What else could I do? Even a genius needed some fresh air."
Mira didn't say anything more. She just kept blowing bubbles, one after another, letting them rise and drift lazily into the amber-hued sky. The garden was quiet except for the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional soft pop of a bubble meeting its end. She leaned back slightly, ankle propped on a small stool, hair catching the late light like threads of moonlight. Her silver strands shimmered with each tilt of her head, and the delicate curves of the soap bubbles mirrored the pale gleam in her emerald eyes.
She looked completely unbothered, as if he wasn't even there—just a girl with an injured ankle, blowing bubbles on a rooftop in peace.
Adrian remained on the bench across from her, arms loosely folded as he sat back, watching. She hadn't told him to leave, so he didn't. The longer he sat, the more the sharp edges of yesterday's argument seemed to dull in the soft, floating quiet of the garden.
His eyes drifted down to her ankle, the bandage peeking out beneath her pants. It tugged his memory back—her catching his hand, her quick breath, the chaotic rustle of bushes, the ridiculous scramble as they ran from the beehive she had poked.
He smirked.
Mira noticed. She didn't even turn her head this time, just glanced at him, deadpan. "I'm not entertaining you for free. Don't just sit there and watch me with that look."
Adrian blinked. "What look?"
"The one that says you're about to bring up the bee incident," she said, popping a bubble with her finger.
"Wasn't going to say anything."
Adrian chuckled softly at her response, finding it both amusing and strangely fitting. People didn't usually speak to him like this. Not with that dry tone, not with sarcasm, not without at least a hint of caution. He didn't demand respect, but it always came—either out of politeness, or because people weren't quite sure how to deal with him. Mira, though? She just tossed that all out the window.
Yesterday she had been careful, even a little formal. Now she was talking to him like they'd been arguing for years and she'd already won.
It was oddly refreshing.
Mira huffed. She gave the bubble wand one last determined blow—nothing. She peeked into the little bottle, shook it, tapped the bottom like that would magically summon more soap. Still nothing.
She stared at it, betrayed.
Then, without ceremony, she flopped backward onto the couch with a dramatic groan, limbs sprawled, silver hair splaying out like a fan. "Now I'm dead."
She didn't even glance at him. Just lay there in the middle of the rooftop garden like a bored ghost who gave up haunting.
The last few bubbles drifted lazily through the flowered archways. It was oddly peaceful—sun dipping low, warm light turning the petals around them into soft halos.
Adrian stretched his legs, leaned back, then glanced at her. "I was about to order food. Want some?"
She didn't even open her eyes. "Yes. Obviously."
He smirked, already tapping the screen.
A few minutes later, the quiet whirr of a drone broke the air, the tray lowering neatly into the drop box near the stairwell.
Adrian brought it over, set it on the table, and took a seat across from her.
Mira sat up, still slightly slouched, ankle stretched out like a queen with a royal injury. She looked at the food, then at him.
"This is weird."
He nodded. "Yeah."
She poked open the lid and started eating anyway.
And just like that, they had dinner—across from each other in a garden filled with flowers and fading light, as if they hadn't just argued the day before. As if everything else could wait.
Mira poked at a piece of grilled tofu. "Didn't think you were the rooftop dinner type."
"Didn't think you were the bubble-blowing type."
She gave a short laugh. "Fair."
The wind rustled the ivy near the railing. Mira leaned back, careful with her ankle, and glanced at him.
"You come here a lot?"
Adrian nodded slightly. "When I can. It's quieter than the canteen."
"You don't like people?"
"I like quiet."
Mira tilted her head, half-grinning. "Sorry for making your dinner noisy, then."
Adrian didn't miss a beat. "If 'sorry' could solve everything, we wouldn't need the police."
Mira narrowed her eyes, not backing down. "Excuse me? The police should be thanking me—for helping a lonely genius have a proper meal for once."
He smirked, clearly amused. "Is that what this is? A rescue mission?"
"Absolutely," she said, poking at her food like it was the most noble task in the world. "I take my humanitarian work very seriously."
Adrian leaned back a little, watching her with that unreadable expression of his. Mira didn't flinch under it. If anything, she looked even more smug, like daring him to challenge her again.
She expected him to roll his eyes, maybe throw back another sarcastic comment—but he didn't.
He just… smiled.
Not the tight, polite one he gave most people.
A real one. Barely there. But real.
And somehow, that was worse.
He didn't know what it was. The way she talked, like she'd fight and feed in the same breath. The way she flopped onto that couch earlier, bubbles flying everywhere like she ruled the sky and didn't care who was watching. She wasn't just another classmate.
She was chaos in silver hair and emerald eyes.
And he… was entertained. Far more than he wanted to admit.
The last rays of the sun dipped behind the buildings, leaving streaks of gold and blush in the sky. The rooftop quieted again, their meal mostly done, the drone containers stacked neatly to the side.
Mira stretched lightly and winced—her ankle still throbbed dully, reminding her of its stubborn existence. She stood up slowly, trying not to look like she was struggling. Adrian had already started picking up the trash, as if giving her space.
But the second she took a step, her balance faltered. She caught herself on the railing.
Adrian glanced over, pausing mid-motion. "You good?"
"I'm fine," she said too quickly, waving him off as she limped toward the stairs.
He didn't say anything. Just quietly followed a few steps behind.
She paused to rest on the landing, biting her lip.
Then, without looking at him, she muttered, "I said I'm fine. I didn't say I'm fast."
Adrian raised a brow but didn't comment. He waited as she moved again, but halfway her foot caught the edge wrong—and in one sharp breath, she tipped.
He caught her.
Not dramatically. Not in some sweeping gesture. Just steady hands, grabbing her by the arm and waist, keeping her from toppling forward.
For a moment, neither said anything. Mira stared at his shirt collar. He looked somewhere over her shoulder.
Then she scoffed, cheeks warm. "...That was gravity's fault."
Adrian's lips twitched. "Should I blame gravity, or your pride?"
She didn't answer—just straightened slowly, brushing his hand off.
"Whatever. You can escort me if you're that worried."
He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I am not worried. Just paying you back for the entertainment."
Mira huffed and glanced at him. "Don't treat me like some circus act," she muttered.
Adrian replied, calm as ever, "I didn't say that,".
She let out a sharp breath through her nose, the kind that said she wasn't convinced—but she didn't push him away again.
Side by side—him half a step behind just in case—they made their way to the fifth floor.
And for once, neither tried to fill the silence.
❧
Mira sat at her desk, arms crossed, her laptop open in front of her. The upcoming debate with Adrian had seemed exciting at first—she had been confident, even a little cocky when she challenged him. But now, as the reality set in, doubt crept in like an unwelcome guest. Could she really hold her ground against someone like him?
With a sigh, she grabbed her phone and made a video call. It took a few rings before her father, Harrison Larkspur, picked up. His background was the usual—an office somewhere, papers stacked neatly, diplomatic flags in the corner.
"Mira, to what do I owe the honor?" His voice was warm, but the teasing was there.
Mira exhaled. "I have a debate coming up. I was really confident when I challenged this guy, but now… I don't know if I can actually win."
Harrison leaned back slightly, considering her words. "You don't need me to give you answers. You've always been good at thinking for yourself."
"I know." Mira rubbed her temple. "I just need a fresh perspective."
Harrison smiled faintly. "Alright. First, you have to understand what kind of opponent you're facing. Is he someone who overwhelms with facts? Or does he manipulate the argument's structure?"
Mira frowned. "Both."
"Then you need to focus on what he's not expecting from you. People like that assume they're always the smartest in the room. The trick isn't beating them at their own game—it's shifting the battlefield."
Mira straightened slightly. "So, instead of getting stuck in his logic, I change the framing?"
"Exactly. Find an angle that forces him to adjust, instead of the other way around."
She nodded slowly, her mind already racing with ideas. "That… actually helps."
Harrison's expression softened. "Of course it does. You're my daughter, after all."
Before they could continue, her mother, Clara Larkspur, appeared on the screen, peeking over Harrison's shoulder.
"Mira! How's life at the top-ranking university? Are your classmates all terrifyingly brilliant?"
Mira laughed. "More like terrifyingly competitive."
Clara grinned. "Good. Keeps you sharp. And the new environment? Are you getting used to it?"
Mira hesitated, then shrugged. "It's… different. A lot to keep up with."
Clara's gaze softened. "That's normal. You'll adapt. You always do."
Harrison, who had been checking his watch, suddenly spoke up again. "Actually, Mira, I was going to suggest something. Why don't you take a short trip this weekend? A change of scenery might help you clear your head."
Mira blinked. "A trip?"
"Yes. I have a friend I'd like you to meet. If you can arrange your schedule, I'll fly there too."
Mira considered it. A field trip wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but… maybe stepping away from the academic battlefield for a moment wouldn't be such a bad idea.
"Alright. I'll see if I can make it work."
Harrison nodded, satisfied. "Good. I'll send you the details."
After exchanging a few more words—mostly her mother fussing about her sleep schedule—Mira ended the call, feeling… lighter. Maybe she wasn't entirely ready to face Adrian, but at least she had a strategy now. And maybe, just maybe, this trip would be the perfect reset she needed.
❧