You hadn’t meant to forget your lunch today. Between sketching columns for your architecture project with Hera that morning and revising perspectives for hours, it completely slipped your mind. Now, sitting at the cafeteria table, stomach growling quietly, you glared at your half-empty water bottle like it could magically turn into a sandwich.

Hera nudged you with a sympathetic look. “You really should’ve eaten before coming here… Do you want me to buy something?”

“No, it’s fine,” you mumbled, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—ask someone else for help. You’d survived James. You’d survived his betrayal. And you weren’t about to let anyone in again, no matter how good they seemed.

Your friends had always said it was your independence that intimidated men. You never believed them. Until James. Until him, and your adopted sister. That experience had left a scar deeper than any rejection ever could. Trust, for you, had become a dangerous thing, a fragile bridge you weren’t ready to cross again.

You focused on Hera’s face, watching her frown in concern as she reached for her wallet again. You shook your head subtly, refusing her help, and turned your attention back to your sketchpad, burying your hunger in lines and shadows.

Across the cafeteria, laughter cut through the low hum of chatter. Sebastian sat at a table with his friends, his posture relaxed, eyes bright as he joked with them. You noticed him, of course—you couldn’t help it—but you didn’t feel anything romantic. He might be kind, patient, polite—but he was among James’ friends. That alone made you keep your distance.

And yet, somehow, he was interested in you.

At first, you refused to believe it. Fake news, surely. The older brother of your best friend, kind, patient, respectful… why would he even glance at someone like you? But the evidence was there: his small attentions, the way he remembered your favorite tea, the quiet way he seemed to notice when something upset you, and even the subtle teasing that made your heart stutter.

You had ignored him at first, pretending not to hear when he called your name in the hall, pretending to be busy with schoolwork when he tried to approach you. But you’d noticed how it had only made him more determined. You could see it in his eyes across the cafeteria now, the faint crease of concentration on his brow as if he were calculating the perfect moment to make his move.

Hera sighed, clearly frustrated with your stubbornness, and you tried to focus on your sketchbook again, hoping to disappear into the lines. But then—suddenly—someone slid into the seat beside you.

You stiffened. You hadn’t expected anyone, least of all him. Sebastian leaned slightly toward you, his expression calm but deliberate, as if his presence alone could make you uncomfortable and there was no escaping it.

You deliberately looked down at your sketchbook, pretending not to notice him. “Hi,” he said softly, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his shoulder.

You didn’t respond, tightening your grip on your pencil. Ignore him. Just ignore him.

But then he leaned closer, deliberately tilting his head until his face was squarely in your line of sight. His eyes met yours directly, calm, patient and unwavering.

“I can’t help but notice you forgot lunch,” he murmured, his voice gentle but teasing, almost a whisper meant only for you.

You averted your eyes, hoping he would leave, but he didn’t. He stayed there, silent, letting his eyes linger on yours for a long, deliberate moment. There was no rush, no demand—just the quiet insistence of attention, the kind that made it impossible to ignore him entirely.

From the corner of your vision, you noticed Hera suppressing a giggle, her shoulders shaking just enough to make you glare at her in annoyance. Sebastian didn’t flinch at her amusement. He only continued looking at you, steady and patient, as if daring you to meet his gaze, as if the world had narrowed down to this quiet, unspoken challenge between the two of you...