"Please help me with a cup of coffee, Jerald," said a young man sitting at the dining table. He was reading a newspaper, addressing a man who appeared to be in his sixties.
"Yes, Young Master Luka," Jerald replied before turning toward the kitchen.
Luka, wearing his usual blank, slightly mournful expression, looked away from the paper as Jerald returned carrying a steaming mug.
"Your coffee, Young Master," Jerald said, placing it down.
Luka took a sip before facing the older man. "I've told you not to call me 'Young Master' anymore," he reminded him, nonchalantly turning a page. He wasn't interested in the news articles, but rather the small photos of local art exhibits printed in the margins. "It's been three years since Mr. and Mrs. Anderson passed. I've been asking you to stop addressing me like that ever since."
"I'm sorry, Young Master. Old habits die hard," the old man said with a warm, indulgent smile.
"Anyway, isn't it about time you retired?" Luka continued, sipping his coffee between thoughts. "As much as I appreciate you staying, I can't expect you to live here forever. You should spend your retirement relaxing with family, or perhaps moving to the countryside."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Master Luka."
Jerald paused. The day his master and mistress had been laid to rest, he had vowed to look after Luka until the boy was ready to build a family of his own with someone he loved. Catching himself before the sentiment could dampen the morning atmosphere, Jerald went quiet.
Luka, his face unreadable, set the paper down. "If that's your wish, you might as well prepare to spend the rest of your days in a large, empty mansion. I doubt I'll be getting married anytime soon—assuming I even fall in love or find someone who likes me." He finished the last drop of coffee, stood up, and adjusted his jacket.
"If that is what fate wills, then I would gladly serve you for the rest of my days in this very house," Jerald responded with a bow, collecting the empty cup.
Jerald had served the Anderson household for over twenty-eight years. He had been there seventeen years ago when tragedy struck, and the Andersons lost their only son in his late twenties. That same tragic shipwreck had claimed Luka's birth family. By a twist of fate, the Andersons had adopted the surviving boy a year later—a child whose quiet trauma ran even deeper than their own grief. Jerald had watched over Luka for sixteen years, witnessing a boy who displayed almost no emotion, and he was determined to stand by him for as long as it took to see him heal.
"I'm leaving now, Jerald. I'll be back by dusk," Luka said, retrieving his bag from the couch and pulling his white headphones around his neck.
Jerald stepped out of the kitchen. "I look forward to your return, Young Master Luka."
The morning air was humid, with dark clouds scattered across the sky. Luka preferred walking to school; the quiet movement gave him time to think, admire his surroundings, and conceptualize his next painting. A cool breeze pushed his dark blue hair across his forehead, revealing ocean-blue eyes and sharp, handsome features.
"It's going to rain soon," he muttered, looking up at the overcast sky. He popped open his umbrella and kept walking.
"Oh jeez, why did I have to forget my umbrella today of all days?"
A girl stood pacing frantically under the overhang of a bus stop as the sky opened up. Luka caught sight of her as he passed.
Brianna had left her umbrella behind in her rush not to miss her very first college lecture. Being a first-year student at Brookstone College, she was desperate not to start the semester on the wrong foot.
"Uhm, excuse me!" she called out, her voice high and anxious.
Luka stopped and turned. A sudden gust of wind caught his hair, and a stray beam of sunlight refracted through the falling rain, catching the brilliant blue of his eyes.
Stunned by his face, Brianna froze, her throat suddenly dry. "Uhm... please, can I join you for a bit?" she stammered. "I'm heading to Brookstone College nearby, but I forgot my umbrella..." She stopped abruptly, realizing how rapidly she was babbling. What is wrong with you, Brianna? She thought, mortified. He's going to think you're a complete weirdo.
Taking a breath, she tried again. "I'm sorry, I'm just anxious. Are you heading toward Brookstone by any chance?"
Luka gave a calm nod and stepped closer, lifting the umbrella to cover them both.
The walk was excruciatingly awkward for Brianna, though Luka seemed entirely unbothered. He occasionally stole subtle glances at her, analyzing her features for a potential portrait, while she tried not to lose her composure walking beside someone so striking.
As they reached the college gates, the rain tapered off, and the clouds began to part.
"Thank you so much for your help," Brianna said as Luka folded his umbrella. He offered a light nod in acknowledgment. Spotting her friends waiting by the entrance, she quickened her pace to join them. "Hey guys, I'm—"
Her foot slipped on the wet pavement.
Before she could process the fall, she found herself caught, held securely in the arms of the blue-haired student. Her eyes locked onto his stoic, unreadable face.
"Are you alright?" he asked. His voice was low and clear, vibrating softly in the quiet morning air. "Try to be more careful next time." He helped her regain her footing.
"Thank you," she stammered, her face flushing crimson. Onlooking students whispered, eyeing the pair with a mix of curiosity and envy.
Brianna turned and hurried toward her friends.
"Who wasthat?" Brittney asked, practically bouncing with excitement as Brianna reached them.
Luka stood near the gate for a moment longer, replaying the composition of the scene in his mind before turning toward his first class.