Wednesday began with a note.
It was stuck to Lina's locker, neatly secured with Scotch tape.
A heart, drawn crookedly, with the message in the middle: "L + A = True Love".
The laughter came from the left, even before she had torn off the note.
"Perfect match," Jana called out. "The Mermaid and the Dark Knight."
Mia raised her phone, the flash briefly flickered. "We'll post this. He should see it too."
"Leave me alone," Lina mumbled and threw the note in the trash.
"Don't be so shy," Jana grinned. "Maybe you really are lucky."
Then the door opened.
Alaric entered. Late as always. Unhurried, as if time belonged to him.
Ms. Haller briefly looked up but said nothing.
He sat down in the back, threw his hood back, and crossed his arms on the desk.
Jana immediately half-turned. "Hey, Alaric, we wanted to show you the courtyard later."
"I'll find it myself," he said.
Mia giggled. "Or we could go to the cafeteria?"
"Not hungry."
A few students exchanged glances, the usual whispering, small waves of attention.
Lina felt his gaze. Just briefly, a heartbeat.
Directly at her.
Then away again.
Her breath caught, as if someone had turned off the air in the room.
---
The hour dragged on.
Words, numbers, the sound of chalk.
Everything rushed past her.
Again and again, she heard his quiet breathing behind her.
Not really a sound – more like an awareness that crawled through her skin.
"Page fifty-four," Ms. Haller said.
Lina turned the pages, but her fingers slipped at the edge.
A soft clack behind her.
Something rolled across the floor.
She bent down inconspicuously.
A small, gray stone. Round, smooth – like the two already in her bag.
She picked it up, glanced back briefly.
Alaric was looking out the window.
But his mouth was moving.
Just one word.
Whispering, soundless.
"Later."
She turned back to the front, but blood was rushing in her ears.
---
The break was a whirl of voices, music, cold wind.
Alaric stood as always in the middle – the point around which everything revolved.
Girls laughed too loudly, boys tried to be funny.
He barely reacted. Just small, dry answers, enough to keep them engaged.
Lina sat as always at the edge, bread in hand that she didn't want to eat.
But this time she didn't look away.
Alaric raised his head, saw her.
Then he moved – straight, slow, unstoppable.
He stopped in front of her.
"Why do you always throw your bread away?"
His voice deep, rough, like from another time.
She faltered. "What?"
"Yesterday. The day before. Always in the trash."
"None of your business."
"Yes, it is."
"Why?"
"Because otherwise you'll starve."
Behind him, Jana and Mia giggled.
"Oh my God, he's talking to her," Jana whispered.
"Wait, I need to film this!" Mia called out.
Alaric turned his head, slowly, dangerously calm.
"Put that away."
"Why?" Mia grinned uncertainly. "It's cute."
"Put. It. Away."
His voice wasn't loud, but it cut like glass.
Mia lowered her phone.
Jana laughed thinly. "It was just a joke."
"Your jokes are boring," Alaric said.
Then back to Lina: "So?"
"What?"
"Why bread in the trash?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Don't lie."
"I am."
"No."
She felt her throat tighten. "I... I can't eat when everyone's watching."
He was silent. Then he took half a step closer.
His shadow fell over her knee, over the bread in her hand.
"Then eat when no one's watching."
"When would that be?"
"Now."
He left without another word.
Back into the crowd, hands back in his pockets, as if nothing had happened.
Jana stared at Lina. "Well, great. Now you're special."
Mia hissed: "Mermaid caught the prince."
"He's not a prince," Lina mumbled.
She stood up and walked away.
Behind her, the voices clung.
But this time they sounded... uncertain.
Like people laughing at something they don't understand.
---
Afternoon.
Rain on the windows.
The dripping was rhythmic, almost calming.
Sabine placed bowls on the table, Markus opened the window. Tom kicked the ball against the doorframe.
"Not in the house," Sabine said.
"But I'm practicing!"
"Then practice outside."
"It's raining!"
"Then practice tomorrow."
Tom made a face. "I scored three goals!"
"See there," Markus said. "Almost a pro already."
"If only Lina would watch sometime," Tom grinned.
"Lina has school," she mumbled.
Sabine looked at her. "How was it?"
"Normal."
"Normal good?"
"Yes."
"Any trouble?" asked Markus.
"No."
"Well then."
Tom grinned widely. "Do you have any friends?"
"Tom!" Sabine scolded.
"Why not?"
Lina lowered her gaze. "No."
"Then make some," said Markus.
"It's not that simple," Sabine murmured.
"Sure it is," he insisted. "Just go up to them. Talk. Done."
Lina put down her fork. "I'm going to study."
"At least eat a bit more," said Sabine.
"I'm full."
"She never eats," Tom mumbled.
"Tom," Markus warned.
"It's true though."
"Let her be," Sabine said quietly.
Lina went to her room and closed the door.
---
She leaned against the wall.
The bread was still in her bag, untouched.
Slowly she pulled it out and placed it in the trash can.
Then she sat by the window.
The sky was dark, but not black.
Just a twilight that didn't want to let go of the day.
Her phone vibrated.
Mirella: Baking lemon cake again tomorrow. Come get a piece.
Lina: Ok.
She put the phone aside.
Outside, children were calling. Somewhere a bike rack clattered.
She thought about his words.
Eat when no one's watching.
And about his gaze.
Hard, direct, but soft for a heartbeat.
She wrote in her notebook:
He sees me. And I don't know if I can bear it.
Then she turned the page, wanted to close the book – and saw it:
Between two lines, where her writing stopped, was a sentence she hadn't written.
"I see you even when you look away."
Lina jumped up.
Heart racing.
She grabbed her phone. Nothing. No new message.
The stone on the desk lay exactly where she had placed it yesterday.
But this time – it was torn open.
The engraved line was no longer just a cut.
It was open.
A light, dull and shimmering, glowed within, like a weak breath.
She backed away, stumbled over the carpet, caught herself on the edge of the bed.
A muffled tone vibrated in the air.
Not loud, but tangible.
Then her phone lit up.
A new message.
No name. No symbol. Just:
"Don't be scared. Not yet."
Her heart stopped.
The same sentence as yesterday.
She stared at the display while outside the rain hit the window.
Lightning flashed, brief, glaring –
and for a tiny moment, reflected in the glass behind her was someone,
who couldn't possibly be standing there.