The announcement came on a quiet Monday morning, when the air still held the chill of early winter. The classroom buzzed with half-hearted chatter, the kind that fills the space before a new assignment begins.
"Alright," said Professor Garret, clapping his hands once to get everyone's attention. "Your next project will be done in pairs. Choose wisely. You'll be graded not only on content but on cooperation."
A ripple of excitement passed through the room. Chairs scraped, papers shuffled, names were whispered.
Nina kept her head down, pretending to take notes, though her hand barely moved. She already knew how this worked — people rushed to their friends, their cliques, the comfortable. She wasn't bad at teamwork; she just wasn't loud enough to be chosen first.
Then the inevitable voice came.
"Garret, can we pick now?"
"Yes, Thomas," the teacher sighed. "Go ahead."
Within seconds, pairs began to form. Sophia leaned toward Charlotte, Franklin grabbed Thomas, Chloé called across the aisle to Rose. The usual order of things.
And then —
"William and Nina," said Garret suddenly, reading from the list. "You two together."
Heads turned. A few murmured. It wasn't strange, exactly — they had been close once — but lately, everyone had seen the quiet distance between them.
William looked surprised but smiled quickly. "Sure thing, sir."
Nina simply nodded, her heart beating faster than she wanted it to.
---
That afternoon, they met in the library.
It was almost empty, the soft rustle of pages mixing with the hum of distant whispers. William sat across from her, his usual easy smile tempered by a hint of awkwardness.
"So," he began, spreading the project sheet on the table. "We're supposed to write about 'Human Connection in Modern Literature.' Fitting, huh?"
She looked up. "Very fitting."
He chuckled lightly. "I guess Garret knew what he was doing."
She smiled faintly, though she wasn't sure if it was amusement or irony that curved her lips. "Maybe."
For a while, they worked in silence — or tried to. Every sound between them carried meaning now: the scrape of a pen, the turn of a page, even the sighs of concentration.
It wasn't the silence of strangers. It was the silence of people who used to speak without words and now didn't know how.
---
"You've been busy lately," Nina said finally, not looking up from her notes.
William glanced at her. "I guess so. The game, the council stuff, group work… It kind of just happened."
She nodded. "Yeah. I've noticed."
He hesitated. "You sound like that's a bad thing."
"I didn't say that."
"No, but…" He leaned back slightly. "It feels like you've been avoiding me."
She froze for a moment. Then quietly: "Maybe I've just been giving you space."
"Space?"
"You seem to need a lot of it lately," she said, her tone calm, almost clinical. "And I didn't want to get in the way."
William's brows furrowed. "You're not in the way, Nina. You never were."
"Then why does it feel like I am?"
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze fell to the table, tracing invisible lines on the paper. "I don't know. Maybe I've just been… distracted."
She exhaled slowly, forcing a small smile. "Distraction suits you."
He laughed softly, but it was an uncertain sound — like someone remembering a joke from a different life.
---
As the afternoon stretched on, the light outside turned golden. Dust motes floated through the air, suspended in sunbeams that painted soft patterns across the wooden desks.
William stood, stretching his arms. "Break?"
"Sure."
He walked to the window, looking out over the courtyard. "You remember when we used to study here after class? Same spot."
She looked up from her notes. "I remember. You always complained about how cold the desks were."
He grinned. "And you always said I was dramatic."
She tilted her head, smiling. "You were."
For a moment, the tension eased — replaced by something warmer, gentler. The kind of comfort that still remembered laughter.
William turned back toward her, the sunlight catching the faint curve of a smile. "I missed this," he said quietly.
Nina's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"Us," he said simply. "Talking. Working. Just… being."
She didn't know what to say. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, trembling between what was lost and what still lingered.
"I missed it too," she finally whispered.
---
When they returned to their notes, something had shifted. The silence wasn't heavy anymore; it was full — filled with old familiarity, like a melody remembered after too long.
Their conversation flowed again — about books, ideas, even jokes about Thomas's terrible handwriting. It felt almost normal.
At one point, William leaned closer to see her notes. Their shoulders brushed, and Nina felt her pulse stutter.
He didn't seem to notice — or maybe he did and pretended not to. Either way, she didn't move.
---
By evening, they had finished the outline. The library lights flickered softly, signaling closing time.
"Well," William said, packing his things, "we make a pretty good team."
Nina smiled. "We always did."
He looked at her then — really looked. "So what happened to us?"
Her hands froze around her notebook. "You tell me."
William hesitated. "I guess I got caught up in… everything else."
She nodded, her voice quiet. "Yeah. You did."
"I didn't mean to."
"I know." She smiled faintly. "That's the worst part."
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "You think it's too late to fix it?"
"I don't know," she said softly. "Some things don't need fixing. They just… change."
---
Outside, the sky had turned violet. They walked together through the empty courtyard, the sound of their steps echoing faintly against the pavement.
William shoved his hands into his pockets. "You ever wonder if people can go back to how they were?"
Nina thought for a moment. "No," she said finally. "But maybe they can find something new instead."
He smiled slightly. "That sounds like something you'd say."
"Because it is."
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I missed your honesty."
They reached the gate. The wind carried the faint scent of rain, and for a second, everything felt still — suspended between what had been and what might still be.
William turned to her. "Hey, Nina?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really glad we got paired up."
Her lips curved into a genuine smile this time. "Me too."
He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, then simply said, "See you tomorrow."
And when he walked away, Nina stood there, watching him disappear into the fading light — her heart heavy, but no longer hollow.