The air hummed with excitement—designer bags swinging, laughter echoing off vaulted ceilings, clusters of students comparing summer tans and European vacations.

Roman's expression was already dark. His jaw tight. His stride clipped.

A first-year, too slow to move, stumbled backward and knocked into him. Her shoulder brushed his arm.

The entire hallway froze.

A locker door slammed somewhere down the hall. A senior's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

You rounded the corner with a stack of paperwork balanced in one arm and your Student Body President badge glinting on your chest.

The tension in his shoulders didn't disappear—but it softened. Just slightly. Just for you.