The next day at Oakridge felt… different. Not lighter. Not happier. Just… altered—as if the air around Aarvin carried a secret known only to him and Nairi. He didn't notice it, but he walked with a little less hesitation, a little less fear, and a spark he couldn't name—neither confidence nor pure joy, but something entirely new.
In class, he took his usual seat by the window, the sunlight falling like a soft curtain across his desk. A quiet knock interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Nairi standing there, notebook pressed to her chest, eyebrows slightly raised, the kind of look that asked without words whether it was okay to enter his space.
"You forgot this," she said, holding out a small blue pen.
Aarvin stared at it. "My pen?"
"You dropped it at the court yesterday," she replied, voice calm, steady, but carrying a warmth that made his chest tighten.
"Thanks," he whispered, barely able to meet her eyes.
She nodded, stepped back a few paces, then glanced over her shoulder. "Are you coming today?" The question was softer than usual, delicate, but full of expectation.
Aarvin's breath hitched. "I… yeah. If you'll be there."
She smiled—a small, quiet curve of her lips that lingered in the air long after she left. "I will," she said, and slipped away.
The softness she left behind wrapped around him, subtle but undeniable. Even at lunch, Riyan noticed.
"Tu theek hai?" he asked, sharp eyes scanning Aarvin's face.
Aarvin nodded too quickly, a nervous edge in his tone. Riyan didn't press, but the observation hung in the air, unspoken but heavy.
After school, Aarvin walked to the old court. The wind was colder today, scattering dust and brittle leaves across the cracked ground. She wasn't there yet. He sat on the bench, hood up, staring at the empty space, heart hammering as if it already knew she'd arrive.
Light footsteps echoed. He looked up—Nairi approached, hair slightly wind-tossed, eyes bright, relief clear in the curve of her lips at finding him.
"Sorry, teacher ne rok liya," she said, catching her breath.
"It's okay," Aarvin replied.
She sat beside him, close, but not imposing—just enough to let the bench hold them both.
"How was your day?" she asked. Simple words, but weighted with care. No one had ever asked him that before.
"Fine," he said, then added, softly, "Better now."
She looked at him—truly looked—and whispered, "Mine too."
They didn't play today. They didn't even talk much. They simply sat—two quiet people, side by side, letting the silence speak. And in that silence was a warmth, a peace that belonged only to those who shared understanding without words.
Before leaving, Nairi stood, brushing dust from her skirt, and asked, "Tomorrow?"
Aarvin nodded, heart steadying in a strange, new rhythm. "Yeah… tomorrow."
She smiled again—a small, lingering smile that followed him in his mind long after she walked away.
He pressed his hands together, feeling the crisp autumn air settle around him. He didn't know what this feeling was, exactly. All he knew was that whatever it was, it felt **good**, rare in Oakridge, fragile, and fiercely alive.
And for the first time, Aarvin realized… maybe some good things were worth holding onto, even here.
In the shadowed upper balcony, hidden behind a column, Riyan Hale watched silently—brother, guardian, and constant observer. His expression was unreadable, but his mind understood exactly what was happening: Aarvin was not just surviving anymore. He was beginning to **breathe, to feel… to connect.**
And in Oakridge, that was a dangerous, beautiful change.
*To be continued…