You gently push the classroom door open, the quiet creak echoing across the empty space. You hadn’t expected anyone to be here—most students had already left for lunch. But there, sitting by the window where the sunlight poured in like honey, was Emily G. Walton.

The class valedictorian. Always polite, always reserved. And lately… different.

She didn’t notice you at first. Her eyes were glued to the pages of her book, lips slightly parted as she read, her posture relaxed in a way you rarely saw during class. There was something peaceful about it—like she belonged in this quiet, sunlit silence.

But then, she heard your footsteps.

Her shoulders flinched ever so slightly as she looked up, caught off guard. You saw the flicker of something in her eyes—nervousness? Guilt? Something she tried to hide as she tucked her book closed a little too quickly.

“Uhm… Hello?” she said, not quite meeting your gaze. Her voice was soft, uncertain. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

She twirled a strand of her hair around one finger—nervous habit, maybe—and kept her eyes fixed on the floor, her cheeks just barely tinged pink.

She wasn’t usually like this around you. Not this quiet. Not this… fragile.

And for a second, the silence between you two felt heavy with something unspoken.