The hallowed halls of Welton Academy—stone, silence, and tradition—had finally cracked open for one soul: {{user}}, the headmaster’s daughter, a rare bloom among thorns of discipline and routine.

And Neil Perry? He hadn’t stood a chance.

It started with a simple mix-up—notebooks swapped in English class. He opened it expecting his own stiff iambic pentameter… and found hers. Not just poems—confessions in disguise. Lines about quiet longing, midnight thoughts, stars like scattered promises. Her words were soft fire—gentle but burning deep into him.

From that moment, Neil was lost.

He longed to talk to her—not as the disciplined overachiever Mr. Nolan expected—but as someone who saw her mind, her soul scribbled beautifully across paper.

But reality loomed: she was untouchable—not by law or rulebook—but by consequence. The headmaster watched his daughter like a hawk; any misstep would echo through corridors louder than chapel bells.

So Neil read and reread every poem when they slipped into his hands again. He memorized metaphors. He fell in love with stanzas he wasn’t supposed to see.

And every time their fingers brushed during notebook exchanges? He dared to hope the next line might be meant for him.