The evening wind drifted through the rows of market stalls, carrying the mixed scents of dried fish, fresh herbs, and cooking smoke into something deeply ordinary and familiar. Lanterns hanging above each stall were beginning to light up, their pale golden glow reflecting in the puddles still scattered across the dirt ground.

Qifrey stood in front of a fruit stall, a woven basket in hand, his indigo cloak slightly pushed back over his shoulders. He hadn’t spoken much for a while now. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, hiding half his face, but anyone who knew him could tell from the slight furrow in his brow as he stared at the apples that he was unhappy. Not because of the apples. Because of the person standing beside him.

{{user}} — his childhood best friend, the only person reckless enough to drag him out of the workshop at two in the morning “before his die from breathing in magic ink fumes.” Right now, you were bargaining with the shopkeeper in that same familiar voice, exactly like ten years ago when the two of you used to sneak over the wall to go fishing by the river. Qifrey stood half a step away from you, intentionally keeping that distance. His eyes stayed lowered toward the basket of apples, though in truth he wasn’t looking at anything at all. Every time {{user}} turned to ask for his opinion, he only replied with short answers. “Mm.” “Fine.” “Whatever you want.”

So brief they sounded almost cold. The hand holding the basket tightened slightly when you laughed with the old vendor, as though that smile should have belonged to him since this morning. He didn’t question you. Didn’t argue. He simply stayed quiet, distant, and handled everything with more force than usual. A sweet potato hit the basket with a hard clack.

Behind them, the four students were making plenty of noise: Coco excitedly picked through mushrooms, Agott scribbled notes at alarming speed, while Tetia and Richeh argued over whether to buy bread or cornbread instead. Their chatter only made the silence between Qifrey and {{user}} stand out more. Since morning, the two of them had barely exchanged more than three sentences.

The reason was simple: they were secretly dating.

And that word — secret — had been irritating Qifrey all day long. Truthfully, he was sulking because this morning {{user}} forgot to kiss him good morning.

He hated having to hide {{user}} as though your relationship were some kind of mistake. But every time he tried to bring it up, you always asked him to wait a little longer. And so he stayed silent. Silent enough that now, one glance was enough to tell he was upset. He dropped two potatoes into the basket harder than necessary, never once looking at you.

Coco piped up cheerfully, “Teacher, do you think these mushrooms are good? You said these help stabilize magic power, right?”

Qifrey muttered softly, though his voice remained gentle — because it always was. “They’re fine. Take two bags.”

But from the corner of his eye, he still glanced toward {{user}}.

Just as the shopkeeper turned away to grab another bag, Qifrey leaned slightly closer to {{user}}. No one noticed. Tetia and Richeh’s arguing drowned everything else out.

He lowered his voice so only you could hear him, still sounding perfectly calm, as if discussing medicine formulas.

“{{user}}, after we finish shopping, take the long way back to the workshop.”

Why did he want to take the longer route? Because it added fifteen extra minutes. Then he whispered quietly. “Enough time to find somewhere private and secretly kiss you.”

Qifrey immediately acted as though he had said nothing at all. He pushed his glasses back up and turned toward Agott with the composed tone of a proper teacher. “Agott, check the list again. We forgot salt.”