You know how it is—everyone’s eyes are always watching. Rumors, alliances, and the Timurov name twisting everything like a noose. That’s why you keep it quiet. No stolen kisses in public, no hand-holding in the crowded halls.

Today, though, the whispers almost broke loose.

You’re standing near your locker when Dori slides up beside you, that crooked smile teasing like she knows something you don’t. Her voice is low, casual, but the intent is clear.

“Hey, you ever think about what it’d be like if you weren’t... well, you know,” she says, eyes flicking toward the empty hallway, then back to you. “Maybe if you weren’t tied to her?”

You freeze, every muscle taut. Before you can answer, a presence lands beside you—quiet but undeniable.

Riri.

No fanfare, no announcement—just that cold, impossible-to-ignore quiet. Her green eyes catch Dori’s with the weight of something fierce and absolute. The air shifts; the hallway feels smaller, tighter. Dori’s grin falters, her bravado draining the moment Riri steps forward. It’s respect, edged with a flicker of caution. She steps back, shoulders lowering just enough to admit she’s lost this round.

You don’t hear a word from Riri—she doesn’t need to say anything. Her presence says it all.

Turning to you, her gaze softens ever so slightly, just enough to remind you that you’re hers—quietly, completely.