Morning light slipped through the half-drawn curtains, spilling over Flora's face gentle, but cold against her skin.
The warmth of it couldn't chase away the chill left by last night's talk with Brandon and dreed she felt from the message. Her chest felt tight with the same heaviness that had followed her into sleep.
She freshened up and packed her new PE uniform, folding it neatly before setting the package on the table downstairs.
In the dining room, the faint clinking of dishes mixed with Brandon's voice as he spoke over the phone, polite and practiced.
It didn't take long to understand he was inviting guests for the welcome dinner they'd discussed the previous night.
When he finally ended the call, he looked up at her.
"I've called some of our parents' friends," he said, adjusting his sleeves as though it were just another chore. "You should find a time to invite Austin while you're at school."
her hand paused mid-air. The toast slipped back to the plate, crumbs scattering like tiny cracks in silence.
"Even a sip of milk wouldn't go down my throat."
"I'm full," she murmured, setting the glass aside.
Before Brandon could respond, she grabbed the package and left her footsteps sharp, her heartbeat louder.
---
In school, PE class
By the time she reached the changing room, her thoughts were a tangled mess. She tore open the package, and a handful of glittering ribbons tumbled to the floor. For a second, she just stared blank, then horrified.
"Don't tell me…" she whispered. "I brought the wrong bag."
The class rep noticed her distress. "Did you forget your uniform? You can borrow mine," she offered kindly.
Flora hesitated. The shirt looked a size too small, fitted for someone slimmer. But she couldn't skip class now.
"…Thank you," she said softly.
When she finally changed, The T-shirt was a size smaller, soft fabric clinging to her body, outlining every curve she usually hid beneath looser clothes. Flora had never been ashamed of her figure, but she hated the stares that came with it.
"As long as I'm marked present, that's all that matters," she whispered, clutching the hem of the shirt before stepping outside.
---
The laughter came instantly.
"Hey, PE or photoshoot day?"
"Didn't know we had a model here!"
Each word hit like a pebble against glass small, but stinging.
Flora's jaw tightened. She kept her eyes low, her hands balled at her sides until the teacher finished roll call. Then she turned and walked off the field, ignoring the whispers trailing behind her.
She crouched under a tree, hugging her knees close. The grass was cool against her skin.
"Why can't girls have jackets like the boys?" she muttered, pressing her knees closer to her chest.
Something cold brushed her cheek. She flinched, looking up only to find a chilled can held out to her.
Shane stood there, one hand in his pocket, an unreadable half-smile tugging at his lips.
"Didn't know humiliation was part of your training," he said lightly.
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you enjoying this?"
His gaze softened, though amusement lingered in his tone. "You're the one who insists on facing everything alone. Sometimes it's not wrong to ask for help."
Her fingers tightened around the can. That phrase not wrong to ask for help echoed against another memory, a message that had appeared on her phone the previous night.
They won't be able to force you, Flora.
Her breath caught. For a fleeting second, her pulse stumbled, a shiver of unease threading through her.
"What are you implying?" she asked quietly.
Shane tilted his head, pretending confusion. "About how you're walking around in clothes that aren't your size," he said. "You could've borrowed from someone else. But you didn't."
She exhaled, forcing a dry laugh. "This is the result of borrowing."
Her gaze drifted away from him, toward the students running laps. Then something warm and heavy fell onto her lap.
His jacket.
"You didn't ask," Shane said simply. His voice had lost its teasing edge; it was low, gentle, almost too gentle.
Flora's chest tightened. He confused her. One moment he was the boy watching from a distance with quiet amusement; the next, he was the calm shelter she didn't know she needed.
Cold, yet comforting. Distant, yet far too close.
---
Laughter rippled faintly across the field.
Then, without warning, one of the sprinklers burst open with a sharp hiss, drenching a cluster of boys who'd been jeering moments ago.
"Who keeps messing with the system?" the teacher barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Behind the bleachers, someone stood half-hidden in shadow, a phone glinting faintly in his hand. His eyes didn't waver fixed on the girl beneath the tree, her arms curled around her knees, her face half-lit by sunlight and sadness.
Something in him tightened. Watching her like that quiet, hurt, and alone stirred an ache too deep to name. He could stop watching, yet he didn't. He could walk away, yet he lingered, as if her pain had rooted him there.
At last, he exhaled softly, slipped the phone into his pocket, and turned away.
The field swallowed his figure, leaving behind only the faint shimmer of water and the echo of laughter that wasn't hers.
That morning, in the quiet of the school office, the printer hummed as fresh enrollment papers slid out.
"Name?" the teacher asked.
"Liam hart," the boy replied, his voice steady but his gaze unreadable.
--
And across campus, Flora's phone buzzed with a new message.
You looked beautiful today.