For several days in a row, Ginevra couldn't shake the feeling that Jayna was acting… off.
She couldn't even pinpoint exactly what it was at first—until she noticed the pattern.
Jayna would just stare at her.
And then, without warning, she'd break into a foolish little smile, like something sweet had bloomed inside her head and she couldn't stop it from showing.
"Am I really that funny?" Ginevra finally asked. She truly couldn't bring herself to be harsh with Jayna, but she still turned her head slightly, studying that eerie, unguarded grin.
Jayna propped her cheek in her palm, shook her head, and looked back with eyes that were far too tender—so tender they seemed to carry an entire confession without a single word.
"No," she said softly. "I just think our fellow classmate Ginevra Volkova is getting more and more charming."
Ethan Johnson, seated nearby, choked on his soda so violently it shot up his nose. He scrambled for napkins, wiping the desk in a fluster while shamelessly angling his ear to keep listening.
Ginevra ignored Jayna's tone completely and went straight for the point.
"What do you want?"
Jayna's face fell into an exaggerated pout, wounded like she'd been wronged.
"Why are you so heartless?" she whined. "I'm praising you, you know. And you're giving me nothing."
Ethan covered his mouth, shaking with silent laughter. He loved nothing more than watching Jayna get shut down.
Ginevra exhaled, helplessly. She tilted her head, looking at this relentless troublemaker. If it had been the old her, she would've turned away and refused to entertain this nonsense.
But now…
Now she couldn't explain it either.
Somewhere along the way, Jayna had become a sound she couldn't tune out.
No matter what Jayna said, Ginevra couldn't ignore it.
"…You want to come to my place tomorrow?" Ginevra asked, gaze steady, already half certain.
Jayna lifted her brows—of course Ginevra understood her.
"Who wants to go to your house?" Jayna scoffed, offended on principle. "I just miss Little Raindrop. I wonder if he's eating well. Wearing warm clothes. For all I know, his cold-hearted owner has already starved him skinny."
"Oh," Ginevra replied, deliberately flat. "Little Raindrop is eating well. He's fine. Don't worry."
Jayna stared at her for two seconds, then crumpled dramatically.
"Okay, fine. I do want to go to your house. I wish I could move in. I miss your mom's braised pork trotter soup!" Jayna complained, clutching her chest like a martyr. "Ugh. Stupid Giny. You had to force me to say it out loud…"
It was true. Not long ago, Jayna had been showing up at the Volkova home every few days, and Mr. and Mrs. Volkova had treated her like something even dearer than their own daughter—feeding her, doting on her, laughing at her stories.
Ginevra met Jayna's hopeful gaze and stayed quiet for a long time.
Then, finally, she spoke—softly, with apology threaded through her restraint.
"I'm busy both Saturday and Sunday," she said. "If you want soup, I can ask my mom to make it. I'll bring it to you after."
Jayna's heart sank as if someone had opened a trapdoor beneath her feet.
Two weekends in a row—two—she hadn't been able to spend any time with Ginevra. She didn't even need anything special. She just wanted to be near her.
Even if it was only quiet studying.
"Oh." Jayna forced the word out. "Okay. Then… you do what you need to do. Next time, when you're free."
The sadness in her voice made it sound like she was practicing how to be reasonable.
"Mm," Ginevra replied.
After school, Ginevra said goodbye and left early again.
Jayna had wanted to walk with her, like always.
Again, she couldn't.
"Jayna, what are you spacing out for?" Calista Renner asked after stuffing her books into her bag. She paused beside Jayna's desk, watching Jayna sit there blankly as if her soul had wandered off somewhere.
Jayna looked up at her, eyes oddly damp, voice small.
"I don't know what's wrong," she admitted. "It feels like Ginevra… hates me. Did I do something wrong?"
Calista blinked. "No way. I think she cares about you a lot."
"But lately she leaves so early," Jayna said, and her mouth twisted as if the words tasted bitter. "And I can't get her on the weekends at all."
"Maybe she signed up for tutoring classes," Calista offered.
"No," Jayna said immediately. "I know her. She doesn't do tutoring."
She sighed—long and exhausted—and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She walked out of the classroom slowly, each step heavy, like she was dragging something invisible behind her.
If someone who didn't know her saw her like this, they'd think she'd been dumped.
Calista shook her head, amused, and followed after her.
"You're usually all mouth," Calista said, digging into a snack she'd just coaxed out of Jayna in the name of "comforting her." "But when it actually matters, you freeze. If you're curious, just ask her."
Jayna lowered her gaze to the food in her hands. She had no appetite.
"I did ask." Her voice sounded far away. "She just said she has things to do. And she didn't really want to explain. I don't want to push too hard and look like I'm being childish."
Then Calista suddenly slapped the table next to them like she'd struck gold.
Jayna jumped. "Can you not be so dramatic?!"
"I'm just guessing," Calista said quickly, eyes gleaming. "Just a guess—what if Ginevra… is dating someone?!"
"Impossible." Jayna looked like she might actually smack her. Her brows knotted instantly. "Who would even be worthy of her? And if she were dating, how would I not know?"
Calista thought privately: Why are you so worked up? But since she'd already eaten Jayna's snacks and therefore owed her some decency, she only waved it off and muttered, "Okay, okay, probably not."
That night, Calista's words stabbed Jayna's chest like a needle.
She lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
If Ginevra really is dating… what am I supposed to do?
No—wait.
Ginevra was younger than her. Still a minor. She absolutely could not be "dating early."
Jayna tried to soothe herself with those righteous, respectable excuses. But the more she thought, the worse it hurt.
And then Mason's face floated up in her mind—smiling, smug, too close—
Jayna sat bolt upright, furious.
She grabbed her phone and checked the time.
1:30 a.m.
Great.
Another sleepless night.
She scrolled through Apptalk Moments, pausing on the selfie she'd posted with Ginevra. The glow of the screen lit her face. Jayna's finger drifted over the photo, stroking Ginevra's cheek through glass as if touch could cross that thin barrier.
Maybe she was the one being ridiculous.
Maybe she was the one who had too much warmth, too much yearning—while the other person was simply… calm.
Jayna sighed, the sound heavy with grievance.
When she lit the screen again, she noticed the date.
In a little over ten days, December would be gone.
Time moved frighteningly fast.
And then it hit her—
December wasn't just any month.
It was her birthday month.
She opened her calendar.
Seven days left.
Seven days until her birthday.
And she felt nothing.
Not excitement.
Not anticipation.
Only a quiet hollow that made her chest ache.
-
Nearly a week passed.
Her birthday was coming—this Saturday.
And still, Ginevra kept leaving early. Never pausing for even one extra minute.
On Friday, in the last few minutes before school ended, Jayna finally snapped.
She reached out and grabbed Ginevra's arm.
"Ginevra!"
Ginevra had already packed her bag and was about to go. Being tugged back, she turned, calm and patient, eyes settling on Jayna's face.
Jayna looked… strained.
"What's wrong?" Ginevra asked.
"What's wrong?" Jayna echoed, and the emotion burst out before she could contain it. Her face was full of worry and exhaustion. "I want to ask you that. What's going on with you lately? Did I do something wrong?"
Ginevra stared at her, genuinely puzzled, then shook her head.
"No. Nothing's wrong. You didn't do anything."
Jayna hated that answer.
Not because she thought it was fake—Jayna knew Ginevra wasn't lying.
But Jayna would rather be told she'd made a mistake than be left in this limbo, unable to reach her. Lately, Ginevra stopped talking the moment school ended. At night, her replies to messages came late, slow, as if Jayna had to wait her turn to exist.
Jayna was going crazy.
"Then why do you always rush off?" Jayna demanded, forcing herself not to raise her voice. "Why don't you ever walk home with me anymore? Why are you never free on weekends? Do you know how I—" She choked, swallowed it back, then dropped her gaze in defeat. "Forget it. I just want to know what's going on."
She knew, deep down, it wasn't Ginevra's fault.
It was her own.
She cared too much.
Ginevra listened. Then she went quiet for a moment.
Finally, she said, "I've been busy. But it ends today. It won't be like this anymore."
Jayna's heart jolted upward.
"Really?" Her voice turned careful, fragile, like she was afraid of breaking the answer. "Then… then do you have time this Saturday? Tomorrow."
Tomorrow was her birthday.
No matter what—no matter if Ginevra didn't even know—it mattered to Jayna. She wanted to spend it with her.
Ginevra looked at Jayna's hopeful eyes and nodded.
"Okay."
That evening—
"Ginevra, sweetheart, thank you so much," a well-dressed woman gushed, standing at the door of a small townhouse beside an old neighborhood barbecue shop. "Thank you for taking time to tutor my daughter in math. Just these ten-plus days—her math improved so much. Even her exam score jumped. I'm really, truly grateful."
Ginevra stood at the doorway with the quiet posture of someone who never knew what to do with gratitude. She counted the money in her hand, then pulled out two bills.
"You gave too much," she said.
"This is how it should be." The woman pushed the money back with a smile. "You walk such a long way every time. And you charge so little. I can't accept that."
Who would've thought they'd manage to hire Summit Ridge High School's top-ranked student to tutor their child?
It was pure coincidence. Ever since the day Jayna had brought Ginevra to eat at their shop once, the woman had remembered her clearly.
The family ran a barbecue place—money wasn't bad, but the hours were brutal. They were always out early, back late, barely present for their kids. Their son attended an expensive tutoring program and still struggled. Their younger daughter, a middle schooler, simply couldn't grasp math, no matter what they tried. The parents had worried themselves into premature gray hair.
One night, on the way to pick up her daughter, the woman happened to run into Ginevra. Desperate, she'd asked what tutoring programs Ginevra used.
And to her shock, Ginevra had offered to teach their daughter for two weeks—two hours every evening, plus both weekends—charging far less than any tutoring center.
The woman had thought Ginevra was joking.
But Ginevra had shown up every day, at the exact time, without fail.
Rain. Wind. Cold.
Always.
"B-but…" Ginevra faltered, embarrassed, not knowing how to receive kindness without wanting to return it.
A girl peeked from behind the woman—eyes bright with worship.
"Ms Ginevra! This is what you deserve!" she insisted. "I want to be as amazing as you!"
"You see?" the mother laughed, nudging the girl forward. "My little Cora is usually fierce with everyone. But with you? She adores you."
The girl—Cora Smith—looked up at Ginevra with a pleading, sweet expression that made Ginevra's chest tighten.
It reminded her, absurdly, of Jayna.
"Ms Ginevra… I don't want you to go." Cora's voice trembled. "You're better than any teacher I've ever had. And you're so gentle."
Ginevra smiled and patted her head.
"If you have questions later," she said, "take a photo and send it to me. I'll explain."
Cora nodded obediently.
After a few more words, the family finally watched Ginevra leave.
The mother stared after her, still confused.
Ginevra didn't dress like someone who needed money.
So why… was she doing this?
Ginevra got home and didn't even change out of her clothes. She opened the money box in her closet. Inside were last year's competition prizes—kept carefully, stacked neatly. Added to the tutoring pay from these past days…
It should be enough.
"Don't wait for dinner," Ginevra called, closing her bedroom door. "I'm going out."
Her mother stood in the dining area, chopsticks paused midair, staring after her in disbelief.
"What is going on with this kid lately," she muttered. "Is she dating?"
Ginevra rode her bike hard, checking the time repeatedly. The mall hadn't closed yet, but it was Friday—crowded. If someone bought what she wanted before she got there, it would be—
No.
She couldn't let that happen.
She locked her bike and jogged into the mall, slipping between groups of people who'd come out for dinner and wandered into shopping. She nearly collided with someone, forced herself to slow, then headed for the luxury counter she'd been watching for weeks.
Inside, the shoppers were all well-dressed adults.
Ginevra, in her school uniform, looked conspicuously out of place at the entrance.
Still, she gathered her courage and stepped in.
Her eyes scanned the display cases, searching for the piece she'd seen two weeks ago—something new, something quietly brilliant. The jewelry was dazzling. Too much light. Too many reflections. She narrowed her eyes and went back and forth over the bracelet section, again and again.
A young sales associate approached with a polite smile.
"Hi there," she said gently. "Are you looking for something specific? Can I help?"
Ginevra looked up. This wasn't the associate who'd helped her before.
"Hello," she said. "I'm looking for a new item. I saw it here two weeks ago. A different staff member helped me—she said she would try to reserve it for me."
"A new item?" The associate stayed patient. "Our new releases are usually one piece only."
"It has a small diamond star," Ginevra said quickly, unable to hide her anxiety. "A rose-gold bracelet."
The associate paused, then recognition brightened her face.
"Oh—yes. You mean the Star River Radiance collection. The 18K rose-gold bracelet."
Ginevra nodded. "Yes."
The associate studied this anxious schoolgirl and softened.
"Don't worry," she said, gesturing for Ginevra to wait. "Let me call the manager."
She went to the back, spoke for a moment, then returned.
When she did, her smile had changed—warm, almost impressed.
"You're very lucky," she told Ginevra. "The person who helped you last time was our manager. She really did reserve it for you. I'll bring it out now."
Ginevra's breath loosened as though she'd been holding it for days.
"Really?" she asked, relief obvious. "Thank you."
She waited at the counter, hands still, posture straight, as if discipline could keep her nerves from shaking.
A moment later, the associate returned with a velvet box. Wearing gloves, she unfastened the bracelet carefully and laid it out against the velvet like a tiny piece of night sky.
Ginevra stared.
It was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
She felt her mouth curve—just slightly—without permission.
"You have excellent taste," the associate said, watching the girl touch it with almost reverent caution. "This is our newest release. The craftsmanship is delicate, which means the stock is very limited. Other counters are almost sold out—our store only has this one."
She leaned in slightly, voice turning soft, as if sharing a secret meaning.
"And the symbolism," she added, smiling, "is that you shine as brilliantly as a star-filled river. It's meant to be given to yourself… or to the person you cherish most."
Ginevra's eyes softened.
Her fingers hovered over the bracelet as though she were afraid of leaving fingerprints on something sacred.
Then, under her breath, she repeated the phrase like a vow.
"The person I treasure most."