“You wore that red ribbon again.”

You turned your head, glancing at him from under your scarf as the queue inched forward along the damp pavement. “You noticed?”

“I always notice.”

His voice was quiet — not shy, just careful — like the early morning light that filtered through the mist curling along the rooftops. You looked down briefly, your fingers brushing the edge of the ribbon as if to check it was still there, tied neatly at the base of your braid.

He didn’t say more. He never did in moments like this, not with so many ears around. But he kept looking. Not at the ribbon — at you.

When you reached the bend in the road where the paths split, he hesitated. You adjusted the strap of your satchel.

“I’ll walk you,” he said, as if it wasn’t a decision so much as a certainty.

You didn’t argue. The streets between here and the school felt a little less grey with him beside you.

His hands stayed tucked in his coat pockets, and you hold onto his arm, gently holding the fabric of his school blazer.

Your school came first. It sat behind iron gates draped in ivy that never quite seemed alive anymore. War had drained the colour from most things. Even the plants had stopped trying.

You stopped just shy of the entrance.

“You didn’t have to,” you said, voice low.

“I know,” Edmund replied. His eyes flicked toward the boys’ school, still a few blocks off. “I had time.”

You nodded, fingers twisting in your skirt. “Well. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer. “You’ll be all right today?”

“I’ll try to be.”

A breeze tugged at your hair, and the red ribbon came loose at one end. Before you could fix it, he reached out — his hand surprisingly sure — and smoothed it back into place. His fingers brushed the curve of your cheek. Neither of you moved.

“I’ll meet you after,” you whispered, not wanting the moment to vanish.

“Half four. At the café.”

He nodded once, the corners of his mouth pulling upward in a quiet smile — soft and steady and only for you.

Then he turned and walked away, his coat catching the wind as he disappeared into the grey blur of the morning.

You stood there for a long second, ribbon still warm from where his hand had been.

And then you stepped through the gates, heart full of things that didn’t need to be said.