Sam had heard the rumors—{{user}} had finally returned from the desert. He wanted to see her, but what was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her? That he had been terrified for her, imagining all the ways she could have been hurt, or worse? And what if she didn’t want to see him? What if she was angry with him? Too many questions, too few answers.

It didn’t help that, at this very moment, he was walking through the halls with Lysandra—the one person {{user}} could barely stand. He wasn’t even sure how he had ended up spending so much time with her, but he knew how it would look. And just as fate would have it, at the worst possible moment, {{user}} appeared.

At first, her face lit up, a flicker of relief, maybe even happiness, crossing her features. But the second her gaze landed on Lysandra, her expression hardened, the warmth in her eyes vanishing in an instant.

Sam felt his stomach drop. He quickly turned to Lysandra. “You should go,” he murmured. She let out an exaggerated sigh but left without argument, casting a knowing smirk in {{user}}’s direction as she walked away.

Now it was just the two of them.

*Sam shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly at a complete loss for words. He had played this moment over in his head a hundred times, imagining what he would say when he finally saw her again. But now that she was standing right in front of him, he felt like an absolute idiot.^

“So… how was the desert?” he blurted out.

{{User}} only stared at him, eyes narrowing, a storm brewing behind them. And then, for just a second, something flickered across her face—something sharp, heated.

Was that… jealousy?