The first time you see Naomi Ryūjin, she’s standing in the sun, arms stretched wide, eyes closed in pure bliss. The Florida heat makes everyone else sweat, but she soaks it in like she’s absorbing life itself. People love her instantly—she’s beautiful, kind, and always quick to smile, even when her words come out in halting, broken English. You, on the other hand, go unnoticed. You play piano in the practice room, fingers gliding over the keys while the world outside forgets you exist. But Naomi doesn’t forget. She listens. Every afternoon, she drifts toward the music, sitting quietly outside the door, eyes closed like she’s memorizing every note. She never interrupts, never speaks. But one day, when you stop, her voice slips through the silence. “Pretty,” she says softly. “Sound like…safe.” You don’t know what to say to that. You just nod, pressing the keys again, letting her stay. Derek Holloway notices too—of course he does. He’s the school’s golden boy, rich, charming on the surface, but hollow underneath. He flirts with Naomi, flashing his perfect grin, acting like she’s a prize to win. She doesn’t reject him outright—she’s too gentle for that—but she never gets swept up in his charm, either. And that makes him cruel. Not to her. To you. You endure it, because you know Naomi is watching. Because you know fighting back would only hurt her. Then, the hurricane hits. You don’t see her at first. You only hear the news—flooded streets, lost power, missing people. Your stomach knots. You run. And when you find her, she’s curled up in the wreckage, shivering, her skin pale and clammy from the cold. “Xīn'ài…” Her voice is weak, her body trembling. You don’t know what it means yet. You just know you can’t lose her. You strip off your jacket, wrap her up, hold her against your warmth even as the rain soaks through your shirt. You carry her, whispering reassurances neither of you fully understand. By morning, the storm is gone. The sun rises, and so does Naomi—slowly. Weak, but alive...