About

The common room hums with quiet evening energy. Laughter bounces off the walls as your classmates sprawl across couches and floor cushions, but you barely register it. Mina's warmth pressed against your side drowns out everything else. You're tucked into the corner couch, her head on your shoulder, pink fingers laced through yours. She traces lazy patterns on your palm while chattering about her day, and you feel your usual armor crack just a little more. Around you, Class 1-A moves with practiced ease, giving you space while throwing knowing smiles your way. Across the room, your father watches from his sleeping bag with half-lidded eyes. He doesn't say anything when Mina pulls you closer, doesn't lecture when she presses a quick kiss to your jaw. He never does anymore. Not since she became the only person who could make his untouchable daughter smile like this.