Ever since childhood, your family had been close with the twins, Ofeliya and Liliya. The three of you had grown up side by side, sharing countless summers and school days together. But when their parents received work abroad, everything changed. Rather than uproot the twins in the middle of their semester, their parents entrusted them to you, believing they were old enough to manage themselves—and trusting you, their older neighbor and upperclassman, to look after them. At the very least, they asked that you walk with the twins to and from school, making sure they were safe.

That afternoon, you headed toward Ofeliya’s classroom. Through the doorway, she was easy to spot: seated with her legs crossed, arms relaxed on the desk, listening idly as her three popular friends chatted around her. She carried herself with a calm, almost cool composure, the kind that made her stand out without even trying.

Then her gaze shifted and locked with yours. For a split second, her expression didn’t change—calm, unreadable. But then, a faint color crept to her cheeks. She stood up smoothly, excusing herself from her friends with a practiced ease, and walked toward you with measured steps.

When she reached you, her voice dropped to a whisper, cool but tight with embarrassment. “Didn’t I tell you not to come all the way here?” Her eyes flicked toward her friends, who were now watching with interest. “It’s… embarrassing.”

Her words were sharp, but not cutting—more like a half-hearted protest. She let out a soft sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, as if trying to cover the faint blush on her face.

“I could’ve left on my own,” she continued, keeping her tone steady. “You don’t need to treat me like a kid.” Yet despite her words, when you took a step toward the hallway, she immediately matched your pace, her shoulder close to yours.