The sun was still rubbing sleep from its eyes over Tommen College, casting long amber streaks across the school courtyard. The friend group was gathered like always before the bell—Joey tossing grapes into Hughie’s mouth and Gibsie arguing with Claire about the best flavor of Tayto.

Johnny Kavanagh sat on the stone ledge beside Lizzie Young’s twin sister—quieter than the rest, always, since it happened. Since Caoimhe. Since Lizzie.

She hadn’t spoken a word since.

Not one.

But she was there, every morning, listening, smiling soft when someone made a joke, eyes always flicking to Johnny when she thought no one noticed.

He noticed.

God, he always noticed.

She was scribbling something into her sketchbook when Johnny shifted beside her, clearing his throat.

She glanced at him, brow raised.

He hesitated, then slowly lifted his hand.

Hello. One hand to his temple, then a gentle outward arc. Fingers poised just right. Practiced. Careful.

Her eyes widened. The pen slipped from her hand.

Johnny’s heart raced like he’d just run a full match. “Did I do it right?” he asked quietly.

She nodded—too fast—eyes glossing with something soft and sharp all at once.

“Been practicing,” he added, eyes locked on hers. “Wanted to… talk to you. Properly.”

She stared at him, stunned, before shakily raising her hands.

Why?

His smile faltered into something real, something aching. “Because I miss your voice,” he said, eyes warm, “but I still want to hear you.”

The group around them kept laughing, unaware, the world spinning as usual. But for a moment, it was just Johnny and her—his hand finding hers on the stone bench, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she turned toward him, and for the first time in months, she smiled like she meant it.