5

  Finn’s shoes were still lightly dusty from the walk when he finally stepped into the school courtyard. The first bell had already rung, and students were beginning to gather in their cssrooms. He slipped into the flow of students quietly, his posture rexed but his eyes distant, still thinking about Alice and the ring now resting in his pocket.

  Finn wasn’t exactly popur nor invisible—he lived somewhere in the soft middle. The kind of student teachers remembered because of good grades, but most students noticed only when he spoke. He was the quiet type: careful with his words, observant, more comfortable in his thoughts than in noisy crowds. But to the few he trusted—Maxi, Ellie, Car, and his group from css—Finn was a different person. He joked more. He argued pyfully. He shared pieces of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.

  When he reached Room 4B, JP saw him first. “Finn! You’re te, man. What happened? Overslept again?”

  Finn gave a quiet ugh and slipped into his seat. “Something… came up.”

  Marlon leaned over Lester’s desk. “Probably stopped to pet every cat on the street again.”

  “Only three this time,” Finn replied, and the boys ughed.

  Finn was good at school—not in a loud, know-it-all way, but with a natural calm understanding. Math came easy, reading was almost fun, and when the teacher asked questions, he answered softly but confidently. Ms. Flores, their math adviser, appreciated that about him. She once told him he had a “quiet brightness.” Finn never forgot that.

  During recess, Finn and his brother usually met by the open courtyard benches. Maxi was already there, animatedly talking with his own friends, Juris and Nico, about an anime episode they watched st night.

  “No way, that scene was peak hype!” Maxi said, waving his hands dramatically.

  “Could’ve been better,” Nico argued. “But the animation was clean.”

  Finn took a seat beside them, unpacking his snack. JP, Marlon, and Lester joined, forming a small cluster of voices and ughter. Their conversations always flowed the same way—shows they watched, games they were trying to win, characters they liked, and what boss fight destroyed them the night before.

  Finn didn’t always talk the most, but when he did, they listened. He had a way of saying things thoughtfully—like his words were pced instead of thrown.

  Yet today, as he ughed with them, his fingers brushed the ring in his pocket.

  And he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had begun that morning—something he didn’t yet understand.