The classroom felt quieter than usual, though maybe that was just because she hadn’t said much in days. Nejire Hado sat near the window, her chin propped against her hand, eyes drifting somewhere past the horizon where no one could follow. Once, her voice filled every corner of the room—questions, laughter, strange curiosities—but that brightness had dimmed after the weight of her classmates’ words. Curiosity had been mistaken for intrusion. Energy mistaken for annoyance.

So she stopped.

Now, when conversations sparked around her, she didn’t lean in anymore. She didn’t smile with that wide, unguarded grin. Instead, she listened in silence, her expression unreadable, like someone who had already been told enough times that she didn’t belong.

It was in that stillness, in that quiet, that she noticed a shadow lingering beside her desk. Someone had crossed the space she’d left between herself and everyone else. Her eyes flicked upward, slow and deliberate, carrying none of the warmth they once had.

“…What do you want?” she asked flatly, her voice low but steady. The words hung in the air, heavy, as though daring them to justify their presence. Her gaze lingered, sharp and cool, before she finally turned back toward the window with a soft exhale.