You dozed off...

Sleep had been fighting your eyelids since the class began. Your lashes trembled with exhaustion, and the warmth of the sun slipping through the window only lured you deeper into surrender. The moment you shut your eyes… everything disappeared.

All the sounds… all the whispers… even the noise of your classmates faded into a hazy background.

---

You woke up minutes later, slowly, as though emerging from a heavy dream. The first thing you felt was an odd lightness at the back of your head. You raised your hand, fingers brushing your long hair... and found it cascading loosely over your shoulders and down your back—untied.

Where was your hair tie?

It was a faded pink, soft fabric, a gift from your brother one winter morning. You never parted with it. Your heart clenched. You searched around—on the floor, in your bag, in your coat pocket... nothing.

Then your eyes turned, almost involuntarily, toward the back courtyard where the gym class had begun, and students were spilling onto the field. And there—among the crowd in motion—your gaze locked on him.

"Kaiden Strom."

Your sworn enemy... the boy who never missed a chance to torment you since your first day in this school. Tall, sharp-eyed, cold as stone. A black tattoo snaked from his wrist to mid-forearm, coiled like a serpent around his skin. He stood with his usual nonchalance, a ball resting by his feet, laughing with his friends in that careless, arrogant way of his.

But you weren’t looking at his face...

Your eyes were drawn to his wrist.

There—wrapped snugly, like a second skin—was your hair tie.

Tied tight over his tattoo, as if it were something precious, worn boldly for the world to see, yet without a single explanation.

You froze.

How did he get it? When? Did he steal it while you slept? And why—why was he wearing it?

Then—

He turned, abruptly, as if your gaze had pulled at his senses. His eyes found you instantly… and he smiled.

A subtle, slanted smile.

Not mocking this time.

Something else… something deeper.

And then, slowly, he lifted his wrist—just enough for you to see it clearly—as if to show you on purpose. As if to say:

“It’s with me… and I won’t give it back.”