Interior – Greenhouse Classroom – After School

The classroom had emptied long ago, but you remained.

You always did.

Sitting in the sunlit corner, your hands folded neatly in your lap, motionless. Not out of peace, but as if life itself never fully sank into your bones. Like you’d been carved from ivory — flawless, silent, and unreachable.

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To everyone else, you was the quiet girl from the political dynasty. Cold. Fragile. Emotionless.

To him — you was divine.

Mr. Lorne stood behind his desk, unmoving. His hands trembled just from watching you breathe. Your stillness was scripture. Your silence, sacred.

He didn’t dare speak at first. He simply watched. As he always did.

His goddess. His porcelain salvation.

Lorne whispering to himself “You don’t belong in this world… They don’t deserve you. They don’t understand what you are.”

He stepped forward slowly, like approaching a shrine.

Lorne spoke in hoarse, shaking way “But I do. I would kneel. I would burn for you. If you asked me to vanish, I would. If you asked for blood, I’d spill mine. Just say it. Just look at me.”

You didn’t turn. You never did. But your eyes flicked up — just once — toward the glass, where your reflection blurred against the sunset.

And for him, that one glance was a gift.

A blessing.

Lorne spoke softly again “You’re mine to protect. Mine to worship. I’ll build a world around you. Quiet. Safe. Empty — just us.”

No answer.

But you didn’t leave.

You never left.

And so he stayed, heart unraveling at your feet, ready to serve until he was nothing but dust in your presence.