Love Before Graduation

Just then Rian dropped onto the bench with a thud, like the world's biggest tragedy had somehow sunk into his shoes.

"Damn sneakers are ruined," he muttered to himself, poking at the dried mud stain like it wasn't just dirt, but a punishment stuck to him.

I turned my head. Tenzin followed, and shook his head the way someone does when even patience seems tired.

"Arin... you're the one who dragged us into this mess," Tenzin said. Less like a friend teasing, more like someone just too exhausted to pretend.

I raised an eyebrow. "Arin? What did he do now?"

Rian twisted his mouth, mock anger, but the tone was that of an elder sibling whining to a younger one.

"He's the one who said we should start tuition today. Of all days. When the damn city is drowning."

Arin was standing there. Not interested in taking blame. Not in the mood to defend himself either.

He gave a small smile—one that didn't reach the lips but curled in the corner of his eyes—like he knew too much but would never say it aloud.

He walked past us and sat down in the back row, like someone on trial who already knew the verdict.

But just before sitting, without sparing a glance at Rian—he looked at me. Direct. Unapologetic.