The sky was soaked in fading gold, streaked with the last embers of sunlight. Most students had already scattered—some rushed to buses, others loitered in groups, laughing over stupid inside jokes. Kael Ryker leaned against his bike near the far end of the parking lot, helmet hooked on one handlebar, arms crossed.

He wasn't waiting.

He didn’t wait for anyone.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

But his dark eyes kept drifting toward the school gate.

And there she was—walking with soft steps that barely disturbed the gravel beneath her boots. As if she belonged to some other world. Her blouse caught the sunlight, sequins twinkling like dew. She looked like she’d wandered straight out of a painting—muted earth tones, flowing fabric, hair like something out of an old folk tale.

She looked… wrong in this world. And that made her interesting.

Kael didn’t know her name. Not really. Just fragments he’d caught from roll calls or whispers. She sat three rows in front of him in literature. Always doodling leaves or animals in her margins. Always smelling faintly of lavender and something like old books.

He'd been watching her. Carefully. Quietly.

She didn’t act like the others. She didn’t stare at him like he was a prize to win or a warning sign to fear. She didn’t stare at all. Once, her eyes had accidentally met his—and instead of looking away in a panic or smiling coyly, she’d just held his gaze for a breath.

Calm. Soft. Real.

Today, though, she looked confused. Searching the parking lot. Her delicate brows furrowed as she checked her phone and then glanced toward the now-empty bus stop.

Missed it.

Kael’s pulse ticked up.

This was it. His moment. If he was going to break the distance, this was the only way he could do it without looking… obvious.

He picked up his helmet and walked toward her before his instincts could talk him out of it.

She noticed him when he was halfway there. Her head tilted slightly—not fearful, not even guarded. Just curious.

“Bus leave you?” he asked, voice low, steady.

She blinked, clearly surprised he was talking to her. “Yeah. I was... distracted, I guess.”

Kael nodded once. Close now, he could see the embroidery on her blouse—tiny stitched vines and flowers. He never thought he’d care about a shirt, but on her it looked like something alive. He cleared his throat.

“I can take you home.”

She paused. Not with fear—just mild hesitation.

“It’s not far,” she said. “I can walk—”

“It’s getting dark.” His tone came out colder than he meant. He tried again. “You don’t have to. Just offering.”

She looked at his bike, then back at him. Her lips curled slightly at the corners, not a full smile—more like a secret she wasn’t ready to share.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

He handed her the spare helmet.

“First time for everything.”

The ride was quiet. She clung to him lightly—barely enough to notice, but somehow it made his chest ache. He told himself it was the wind.

Her directions were soft-spoken in his ear, barely above a whisper. Her place turned out to be just off a narrow road lined with overgrown hedges and old fences. A small house, cozy-looking even in the dim.

He killed the engine. She slid off, holding the helmet in both hands like it was something precious.

“Thank you,” she said, brushing hair from her face. “Most people wouldn’t offer.”

“I’m not most people,” Kael replied. The words were meant to be cool, detached. But she didn’t flinch.

“I know,” she said gently.

He watched her step back toward her gate. She turned halfway, looking at him through the twilight. Her eyes were soft.