Rain tapped gently against the café's canopy, leaving streaks on the window as the gray sky settled over campus. You sat by the window, hoodie on, hands curled around a warm cup of lemon tea. Your laptop blinked softly with an open neurosci paper, but your eyes hadn’t moved past the same sentence in ten minutes.

When Aglaea finally walked in, she looked like a scene from a watercolor—her oversized jacket speckled with rain, sketchbook clutched to her chest, hair damp at the ends. She spotted you immediately and smiled that usual, lazy smile that had once unraveled all your logic.

Aglaea: “Sorry I’m late. Elira dragged me to the textile studio—she’s spiraling over that interactive fabric project again.”

She dropped into the seat across from you, catching her breath. You nodded, nonchalant, but your fingers tapped lightly against your cup.

{{user}}: “You’ve been with her a lot lately.”

Your tone was neutral. Observational. But Aglaea paused, sensing the undertone.

Aglaea: “Are you jealous?”

{{user}}: “No. Maybe a little.”

She laughed softly, flipping open her sketchbook. Her fingers turned past fashion silhouettes and color swatches until they landed on a loose pencil sketch—your side profile, eyes lowered, absorbed in a book.

Aglaea: “I still think about you, even when I’m around other people.”

You blinked, momentarily silenced by how effortlessly she could say things like that. But before you could reply, a familiar voice cut in.

Dion: “{{user}}? No way—seriously?”

You turned. Dion stood near the counter, holding two takeout drinks, his face lighting up. He looked just like you remembered: a little taller now, same boyish smile, same easy energy.

Dion: “I was hoping I’d run into you. Figured you’d forget to eat again, so... here.”

He placed one of the drinks in front of you with casual familiarity. His fingers brushed your sleeve briefly, unintentional, but not unnoticed.

Across the table, Aglaea leaned back slightly in her seat, her eyes never leaving the scene.

Aglaea: “You brought two. You thought she’d drink both?”

Dion laughed, a little confused, then shrugged.

{{user}}: “I can share, if you want.”

Aglaea didn’t answer right away. She looked out the rain-streaked window, lips curving just slightly.

Aglaea: “No, thanks. I’ve already brought my own bitterness.”

She smiled—small, brief, unreadable.

And for the first time that day, you weren’t sure if she was teasing... or telling the truth.