There is nothing remarkable about the first day of a new semester.

  Nothing ever changes. The same dull routine, the same neatly arranged desks, the same quiet hum of students filing into their assigned seats with the same tired expressions.

  Even the air is stale, tinged with the scent of old textbooks and freshly printed worksheets.

  It is comfortable. It is predictable. It is exactly as it should be.

  And then she arrives.

  The classroom door swings open, and the world tips just slightly off balance. There’s no dramatic entrance, no fanfare—just a new student walking in, but something about her makes the air feel different.

  People always stare when someone new arrives, but this isn’t just idle curiosity. There’s something else. A pause, a shift, a moment where the routine hesitates. Maybe it’s the way her chestnut curls frame her sharp green eyes, or how she smiles like she already knows everyone’s secrets. Like she’s been here before, in another life, and has come back for unfinished business.

  Lina doesn’t look up immediately. She doesn’t need to. The reaction of the room is enough to tell her everything she needs to know.

  “Class, we have a new student,” the teacher announces. “This is Amara Johnson. She transferred from Ridgewood Academy.”

  Ridgewood. Lina knows that name. Prestigious, strict, the kind of place that shapes students into ambitious overachievers. Someone from there is bound to stand out here.

  Amara gives a small wave. “Hey. Looking forward to being here.”

  Casual. Effortless. As if none of this matters to her.

  “Take a seat, Amara. We’re in the middle of a lecture.”

  Lina finally looks up, just for a second. Not out of curiosity—just to observe. Amara walks past her, and in that brief moment, their eyes meet. It’s barely anything. A flicker, a glance. But the moment stretches. The air feels denser.

  Something cold settles in Lina’s stomach. It’s not fear. Not exactly.

  The lecture continues, but the balance of the room has already shifted. Lina refocuses, pushes the distraction aside. It’s just a new student. Nothing more.

  And then the teacher asks a question. A difficult one. One Lina already knows the answer to. She starts to raise her hand—

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  “Uncertainty principle,” Amara says before she can speak, her tone so relaxed it’s almost insulting.

  Lina blinks.

  The teacher nods approvingly. “Correct.”

  Lina stares at Amara, who doesn’t even look smug. Just…amused. As if she had expected Lina to answer first. As if she had beaten her to it on purpose.

  It’s nothing. Just a question. Just an answer. But something about the way Amara speaks—so easy, so sure—bothers her.

  Lunch is the same as always. Lina sits alone by choice, absorbed in a book, blocking out the noise of the cafeteria. The world outside her pages is unimportant.

  But today, the air is different. The background chatter has a new focal point.

  Amara is already surrounded by people.

  Lina doesn’t care. She really doesn’t.

  And yet, when she looks up—just briefly—Amara is already looking at her

  Schei?e.

  Lina quickly looks away, but it’s too late. A chair scrapes against the floor, and before she can protest, Amara is sitting across from her.

  “Hey.”

  “You’re Lina, right?”

  Lina exhaled slowly and looked up. “Yes.”

  Lina waits, but Amara doesn’t elaborate. She just rests her chin on her hand and studies Lina like she’s trying to figure out what makes her tick.

  What does she want?

  “You’re the top student, right?” Amara asks.

  Lina doesn’t respond. It’s not a question that needs answering.

  Amara grins. “You’re smart. I saw that in class.”

  Lina shuts her book with a soft thud. “If you’re trying to flatter me, don’t bother.”

  “I’m not.” Amara taps a finger against the table. “I just think you’re interesting.”

  Lina’s fingers twitch slightly. People don’t talk to her like this. They either admire her from a distance or avoid her entirely. Amara does neither.

  “You’re always this serious, huh?” Amara leans forward slightly.

  “Are you always this nosy?”

  “Only when I meet someone I might like.”

  The words are casual, almost playful, but they sink into Lina’s mind like hooks.

  She’s just messing around. She has to be.

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  Amara just smirks. “Doubt it.”

  She flips open a notebook and starts doodling absentmindedly. Lina isn’t interested, but something catches her eye. A flower.

  A black dahlia.

  Lina frowns slightly. Of all flowers…

  “That flower.”

  Amara glances at her drawing. “You know it?”

  Lina nods.

  Amara grins. “That flower reminds me of you”

  Lina just stared. What a strange compliment.

  That night, something strange happens.

  Walking home alone has never bothered Lina, but tonight, the streets feel…off. The air is heavy. Not dangerous. Just wrong. Like she’s stepped into a version of her neighborhood that’s slightly different from the one she left this morning. The streetlights flicker when she passes under them. The wind carries a scent she doesn’t recognize.

  And when she glances at a store window, she sees someone standing behind her.

  She spins around.

  No one is there.

  Lina stands frozen for a moment, heart hammering. She isn’t paranoid. She knows what paranoia feels like. This isn’t it.

  She exhales, shaking her head. It’s nothing. Just a trick of the light. Just exhaustion.

  But later, when she’s at her desk, trying to study, her mind keeps drifting back to Amara.

  And that damn smile. Bright. Unshaken. It pisses her off.