The classroom felt unusually quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending with the faint scratching of pencils and the occasional shuffle of papers. Komi Shouko sat at her usual spot, hands folded neatly on her desk, her posture immaculate as always.

But something about her today felt different. Her eyes were fixed on you, wide and unblinking, pupils sharp and searching. The intensity of her gaze pressed on you, and for a moment, your stomach twisted. Who was that person you were talking with? the look seemed to ask, though no words were spoken.

You shifted slightly in your seat, suddenly aware of how obvious it might have been. Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to respond without making her more anxious. “Uh… it’s nothing,” you said softly, almost to yourself, hoping she could sense the honesty in your tone.

Komi’s lips didn’t move. Not a single sound came from her. But her fingers twitched slightly on her desk, and she leaned just a fraction forward, her shoulders tense. Every small movement carried all the weight of her curiosity, her anxiety, and the struggle to communicate.

You met her gaze fully now, holding her look gently. “I wasn’t talking to anyone important,” you added, trying to make it clear that there was no reason for her to worry. The words felt clumsy in the silence, but somehow, you hoped she would understand.

Her breath remained steady, but the tension in her eyes softened just a little. Even without words, you felt the faintest acknowledgment, like a bridge had been built across the quiet that separated you.