The next morning felt different for Isabella.
She wasn't sure if it was excitement, anxiety, or something in between—but the moment she stepped through the school gates, her heart beat just a little faster.
As she entered the classroom, she noticed Ethan wasn't in his seat yet.
For some reason, the empty chair gave her an uneasy feeling she didn't expect.
She tried to ignore it and focused on her notebook, pretending to review the group project notes. But her hands wouldn't stay still, and her thoughts kept drifting back to the same place.
Why do I even care this much?
She didn't have an answer.
Just as the bell rang, Ethan walked in. His hair was slightly messy, as if he had rushed to get there, but he still carried that quiet calm that made her chest loosen.
He gave her a small nod, almost as if he had expected her to look at him.
"Morning," he said softly.
It was one word—simple, gentle—but for some reason, it silenced the rest of the classroom noise around her.
The lesson began, and the teacher returned the corrected assignments.
When Isabella received her paper, she froze for a moment. The red ink at the top reminded her too much of past days—days she tried to forget.
Her breath hitched, just slightly.
She lowered her head, hoping no one noticed the way her fingers trembled.
But Ethan did.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him shift closer, lowering his voice.
"Are you alright?"
The question was so quiet that no one else could hear it—but warm enough to break through the panic building in her chest.
She nodded quickly, maybe too quickly.
"I'm fine."
But her voice wasn't convincing, and she knew he could tell.
When class ended, Isabella rushed to pack her things and slip out before anyone stopped her. But just as she stepped into the hallway, she heard Ethan calling her name.
"Isabella, wait."
She turned. Ethan wasn't smiling this time. His expression was serious—concerned.
"You don't have to pretend you're okay," he said gently.
"You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling."
The sincerity in his voice made her heart tighten.
People used to tell her to "be strong," "move on," or "forget."
But no one had ever told her she was allowed to feel.
Before she could answer, a loud crash echoed from the end of the hallway—a locker slammed shut, voices rising in frustration.
The sudden noise made Isabella flinch hard, her breath catching as memories flashed in her mind—unwanted, sharp, overwhelming.
Ethan's eyes widened as he saw her reaction.
He took a careful step toward her, slow enough for her not to feel trapped.
"Hey… Isabella."
His voice lowered.
"It's okay. You're safe."
But she wasn't sure if she believed him.
Not yet.
Not completely.
Still… a small part of her wanted to try.
And just as she lifted her eyes to meet his, a shadow crossed the hallway—someone watching them closely, as if their interaction meant something they shouldn't ignore.
Isabella didn't notice.
But Ethan did.
And the look on his face changed.