(Michelle Lui's POV)
Fridays were supposed to feel lighter — last class, last push before the weekend.
But today, English felt heavier than any midterm.
Anthony walked in right as the clock hit four, the late-afternoon light catching on the smooth lines of his navy shirt and watch. He looked effortlessly put-together, as always — tailored casuals, clean sneakers, and that quiet confidence that didn't need an audience.
Except today, instead of taking the seat next to me like he always used to, he gave me a polite nod and sat one row ahead.
It was a small thing. Almost insignificant. But I felt it — like a paper cut to the heart.
The professor began discussing The Great Gatsby, irony of all ironies, while I stared blankly at my notes, trying to focus. My pen moved, but my thoughts were elsewhere — on the slope of Anthony's shoulders, the calm way he leaned back in his chair.
He didn't turn around once.
