The sun had already dipped behind the rooftops, washing the sky in fading tangerine light as the wind toyed with the letter in your hand. You stood alone on the empty walkway outside the school, watching the paper tremble between your fingers like it knew the weight of what you’d written. Karma appeared behind you before you noticed him, his footsteps soft, his gaze immediately landing on the envelope you tried to keep steady.

“You’re letting the wind do the brave part for you,” he said, stepping closer. The breeze tugged harder, finally pulling the letter free and sending it drifting toward him like fate had given up waiting. Karma caught it with an easy flick of his wrist, eyes never leaving your face.

“Guess this is meant for me,” he murmured, voice dipping into something dangerous and gentle all at once. He held the letter against his chest, not opening it yet, just watching the wind play with your hair. “Funny,” Karma added softly, “how the things you don’t say are always the loudest.”