Part- 398:

  “Goodnight, James,” she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. There was a lingering warmth in the way she said his name, and for a split sed, he caught a flicker of something in her eyes—a vulnerability he hadn’t seen before. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

  “Goodnight, Mili,” he replied, watg as she turo walk away. He lingered a moment, his eyes following her figure until she disappeared around the er.

  As he walked in the opposite dire, heading home, a strange sense of te settled over him. The evening had been simple—just a walk, a few shared ughs, some quiet moments of e—but it had left him feeling lighter, somehow. He felt as though something had shifted, something small but meaningful. The air around him felt charged, as though the evening had opened a door to something he couldn’t yet see clearly.

  But as he walked, the more he thought about Mili’s question, the more he realized how much it lingered in his mind. The way her voice had softehe way her eyes had looked at him with that unreadable expression when she asked about Toya—it felt like there was something she wasn’t saying. *Something more.*

  That was when he realized it. It wasn’t the ahat Mili was worried about. It was the *idea* of Toya, and whatever was tied to that idea.

  What was she feeling? What was it that made her ask the question so softly, so cautiously?

  The answer came to him slowly, in fragments: Mili wasn’t just curious about Toya. She didn’t want to admit it, but a part of her was unfortable with the very thought of him and Toya being more than friends. James could see it now—how she’d pulled back, how she’d tried to hide the way her expression had shifted when he mentiooya. There was jealousy in her eyes, something fleeting, but it had been there. Ae how casual the evening had felt, despite the lightheartedness of their versations, it had made an impact.

  Mili hadn’t said it aloud, but James had seen it—felt it.

  She didn’t like the idea of him with Toya. And somehow, despite everything, that small admission, unspoken as it was, left a warm, bittersweet taste in his mouth as he tinued walking home.

  A part of him couldn’t help but wonder: *What if things were different?*

  The first day back at school after the break had an unusual energy humming in the air. As students filled the hallway, an unmistakable buzz drew many toward the notice board, where the new semester results were posted. James strolled in, hearing the excited chatter, the hum of surprise mixed with whispers of disbelief. He caught a few gnces from his cssmates, but their expressions were unreadable—curious, maybe a little nervous. It was unusual, but he brushed it off, his eyes sing the crowd fap.

  Without urgency, James made his way to the board, weaving through the crowd with a quiet fidence. He didn’t ofte school rankings get under his skin, but he was petitive enough to hope for a top spot. Historically, he’d nded sed or third, usually right behind Rafi, the student who had owhe “css topper” title for as long as anyone could remember.