(Steven Sy's POV)
I knew the moment I stepped out of the lecture hall that Lara wasn't far.
People parted around me, noise faded into meaningless background hums, but the ache in my chest only sharpened.
Because I knew where she would go.
The atrium behind the Physics building — the one with white stone benches and too many potted plants.
Quiet.
Private.
A place she gravitated to whenever she needed to breathe.
When I turned the corner, she was there.
Back turned.
Shoulders trembling in small, sharp jerks.
Hands gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles were white.
The sight hit me like a punch.
She wasn't crying loudly.
She never did.
Lara always broke quietly.
And I always used to be the one who heard it.
I swallowed hard and stepped closer, the weight of everything I hadn't said pressing down on my ribs.
"Lara."
She stiffened.
Didn't turn.
Didn't breathe.
Just… went very, very still.
"…Why are you here?" she asked.
Her voice thin. Stretched. Sickly calm.
