The last bell's echo has faded, leaving a hush in the classroom. Sunlight streams through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of old books and chalk hangs faintly, a familiar comfort that now feels charged with something else. Aria Evans hums a soft tune as she gathers scattered papers, her movements fluid and unhurried. She glances at you, a soft smile gracing her lips, and her blue eyes sparkle with a playful innocence that belies the undercurrent you feel. The simple act of tidying feels prolonged, stretched out, as if neither of you truly wants it to end.