The lunch break had passed, leaving the corridors quieter. The sound of shoes against the floor echoed faintly, fading as students returned to their classes.

In Section A, sunlight poured through wide windows, turning the desks into rows of gold and glass. The students there carried themselves with the kind of confidence that came from being used to admiration. 

Grace Watson sat at her usual seat near the front, idly scrolling through her phone, while Austin leaned back beside her, a faint smile playing on his lips as she spoke.

The door opened, and the teacher stepped in, followed by someone unfamiliar.

"May I have your attention everyone, he announced.This is Liam hart," and continued. "He'll be joining Section A from today."

The room quieted. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.

Liam gave a small nod. "Good afternoon. " and that's it he didn't add anything else. But this already tell enough about his personality.

For a few seconds, only the hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. Then came the low ripple of whispers.

"That's the guy from the canteen."

"He sat with Flora Campbell."

"No wonder everyone's been talking."

Grace's lips curved faintly, not in friendliness but curiosity. Austin's gaze flicked toward Liam briefly before returning to his desk, his expression unreadable.

"You can take the seat near the window," the teacher said.

Liam crossed the room without hesitation and sat down. From that angle, he could see second ground below 

same place where Flora had crouched under the tree in morning with shane standing beside her, trying to hide her face. 

His eyes lingered on the faint green of the grass, and for a second, before he turned his attention back to the board.

When the bell rang, the room filled with casual chatter again. Grace turned toward him, her tone light but calculated.

"So you're the transfer everyone's been whispering about," she said. "You made quite the impression, sitting with her."

He raised his brows slightly. "Her?"

"Flora Campbell," Grace said, her voice holding that practiced sweetness that always felt one step away from mockery. "You'll hear her name a lot. She's… sort of famous here. Just not for anything worth being famous for."

Liam's pen stilled between his fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, unhurried.

"People talk when they're bored."

Grace blinked, surprised by the calm in his tone. The silence stretched long enough to make her shift in her seat before she forced a small laugh. "I suppose they do."

When she turned back to her desk, the faint smile she wore didn't reach her eyes. Austin caught the change immediately.

"What happened?" he murmured.

"Nothing," she said, brushing her hair from her shoulder. "He's just… different. Hard to read."

Austin's eyes flickered toward Liam again. "Maybe that's why everyone's already curious."

Grace didn't respond. His reaction was to distant for her liking. she understood not everyone would find her pleasing in first meeting. Yet he seem to be deliberately keeping her at bay.

By the end of the day, the whispers had already returned. Someone had reposted the old thread about Flora the same one that had vanished yesterday. Her picture. Her name. The same biting comments.

But this time, it disappeared again faster than before. Within minutes, the page was blank.

"Must've been the admin."

"No, that was too quick."

"You think it's the new guy?"

The rumor spread before anyone could stop it. By the time Flora heard fragments of it drifting through her own classroom, her stomach had already knotted tight.

Was Liam behind it all?

Was he helping her, or watching her?

The thought refused to leave her mind.

"But he wasn’t even in school before."

 At last she dismissed it.

---

Somewhere in school, a single light flickered in a quiet place.

The desk beneath it was cluttered, notebooks filled with uneven handwriting. On the computer, waveforms shifted across the monitor, each labeled neatly with time and place.

PE Field — 10:45.

Canteen — 12:32.

Classroom — 14:08.

A pair of headphones rested beside the keyboard. Through the faint static, a soft voice echoed..... Flora's.

"Why can't girls have jackets like the boys…"

The listener adjusted the volume slightly, the sound of her sigh filling the silence.

Every breath. Every pause. Recorded. Preserved.

A pen tapped once against a notebook. A single line was written in ink across the page:

Still hurting. Still alone.

There was a pause. Then another line, slower this time, heavier.

But not for long.

The cursor blinked once on the dim screen, like a heartbeat.

A whisper followed so faint it was almost lost to the hum of static.

"This time… I won't just watch."

The monitor dimmed to black, leaving the room in silence except for the steady pulse of a recording still running.

Note:

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts or even a quiet like would mean a lot to me.