Students filed past in clusters, their voices a low hum of conversation that bounced off old stone walls.

Y/N sat at the far corner of the art room, charcoal smudged across her fingers as she sketched the courtyard fountain through the window.

Water spilled over cracked stone cherubs, catching the grey afternoon light in a way that made it look almost silver.

He stood with his arms crossed, school blazer fitted neatly over his shoulders, a familiar scowl on his face.

But his eyes—those sharp, assessing green eyes—lingered on her drawing longer than necessary.