Everyone in class noticed the delicate bouquet of wildflowers resting on her desk, a splash of color against the dull wood you smiled, touched by the unexpected gesture. Your quiet kindness had earned you many friends, but no one claimed the gift. Meanwhile, Scara sat two rows back, pretending to be uninterested, though his ears turned pink every time someone brought up the mystery admirer.

He couldn’t bear the idea of you knowing it was him. Not because he didn’t care—he cared too much—but because admitting it would mean letting down his carefully constructed walls. He told himself that you didn’t need to know, that your happiness was enough. Still, as you gently tucked one of the flowers behind your ear, his heart clenched with the silent wish that you somehow already knew.

He shook his head- not wanting his feelings to overcome him, so in an act of desperation to ground himself, he called out sarcastically and rather mockingly

"Wowwww, wildflowers fresh from the dirt... how thoughtful..."