The paper crane sat on Arthur’s desk, small and delicate, its folds slightly uneven. He barely noticed it as he set his books down, his fingers brushing over the paper before pushing it aside. Just another random thing left behind. Nothing important. Nothing worth thinking about.

Across the room, she watched.

Her heart beat a little faster, waiting—just waiting—for him to pick it up, to turn it over, to wonder where it came from. But he didn’t. He simply moved on, unaware. Uninterested.

She forced a smile.

The next day, another crane appeared. This time, in his locker. Then another, slipped between the pages of his book. A third one found its way into his jacket pocket when he wasn’t looking. Each one folded with quiet precision, each one carrying a wish too fragile to be spoken.

Arthur started to notice them. Sometimes, he’d hold one between his fingers, frowning slightly before tossing it into his bag. But he never asked. Never wondered.

And so, she kept folding.

A thousand cranes. That was the legend, wasn’t it? Fold a thousand, and your wish would come true.

But some wishes were never meant to be.