The rain is falling again, cold and relentless against the classroom windows. I watch the droplets race each other down the glass, my mind elsewhere as the teacher's voice fades into background noise.

A movement catches my eye. Zhuge Jin is packing his books, his white-streaked hair falling forward as he bends over his desk. He's always the first to leave after class, just like me.

I hesitate, my fingers tightening around my worn backpack strap. Since that night he walked me home in the rain, something has changed between us—an unspoken understanding that hangs in the air like the mist outside.

He stands, shouldering his bag, and glances toward the door. Our eyes meet for a split second before he quickly looks away, a faint flush coloring his cheeks.

The classroom empties around us until only we remain, the sound of the rain growing louder in the silence between us. He takes a step toward the door, then pauses, as if making a decision.

"The forecast says the rain will get heavier," he says suddenly, his voice quiet but clear in the empty room.