She waited by the fountain, fingers curled over the edge of the stone bench. They were supposed to meet her here. They’d said it like a promise, maybe that’s why she’d believed them.

Time dragged. They weren’t coming.

She exhaled through her nose, carefully tucking her hands into her sleeves. She wouldn't cry. That would make it worse. That would prove them right, wouldn’t it?

"You’ve got that stormcloud vibe again—real subtle." a low voice drawled from her left.

She didn’t turn toward him. She didn’t need to.

“Leona.”

He walked closer, each step slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. She could practically feel the warmth radiating off him when he stopped beside the bench.

She hated how easy it was to fill the silence with thoughts she didn’t want—how her mind liked to replay laughter that wasn’t for her. How her “friends” had spoken to her just a bit too slowly sometimes, like they weren’t sure if she’d catch the joke or realize she was the punchline.

Leona finally moved, the bench dipping under his weight as he sat beside her. Not too close. Not far either.

“I thought they liked me,” she murmured.

“They don’t know you. That’s different.”

She tilted her face toward the warmth of the sun, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “They sounded so nice.”

He huffed. “Hyenas sound like they’re laughing too. Doesn’t mean they won’t tear you up.”

She blinked, surprised by the metaphor—and then surprised again that it helped.

There was a pause. Then, softer:

“Next time, just tell me. I’ll go with you.”