The four of them sat in a loose circle on the rooftop, bags set aside, the soft hum of distant chatter from the schoolyard below fading as they turned their attention to each other and the small ritual of unpacking their lunches.
Luna was the first to reveal her meal. She pulled out a sleek black bento box decorated with delicate pink and white cherry blossom patterns. The box itself was compact and minimalist, but once she opened it, it became clear how much care had gone into its preparation. The first tier held a portion of perfectly packed white rice, topped with a sprinkle of black sesame seeds. Beside it were carefully sliced cucumbers and radishes arranged in a neat fan, almost like they were laid out for a photo. The second tier had soft-boiled egg halves with their yolks just slightly runny, some slices of avocado, and a small section of steamed broccoli. Luna lifted a pair of polished wooden chopsticks from a small, matching case, holding them with a quiet precision as if she were about to perform a ritual.
Ava's lunch was in a bright red plastic container with a clear lid, a no-nonsense kind of box with a few visible scratches and scuff marks. It looked sturdy, the kind of lunchbox that could survive being tossed into a gym bag or dropped without a second thought. Inside, her meal was straightforward and high-protein: grilled chicken breast cut into thick, bite-sized chunks, a generous portion of brown rice, and a handful of crisp cucumber slices along one edge. There was nothing fancy about it, but it looked hearty and practical—food with a purpose. Ava picked up a sturdy plastic fork, pausing to glance at Daniel's meal with a raised eyebrow.
Daniel's lunch, in stark contrast, was a chaotic mix of items stuffed into a large, compartmentalized container. It was the kind of oversized lunchbox that looked like it had been designed for construction workers or people who really needed to pack a lot. The exterior was a faded navy blue, with his initials scribbled on the side in black marker. When he opened it, a small mountain of food was revealed: multiple sandwiches stacked on top of each other, each one slightly different, some with thick slices of deli meat and cheese, others with peanut butter and jelly. In another section were a handful of sushi rolls, hastily packed and slightly squished together, and a small bag of chips tucked into the last compartment as if his mom had run out of ideas and just thrown them in for good measure. Daniel scratched the back of his head, looking mildly embarrassed as he noticed Luna's eyebrow arching just a little higher at the sight of his overflowing container.
Diana watched them, each lunch revealing something unique about its owner. The contrast was striking—the refined, artistic bento box in Luna's hands, the rugged practicality of Ava's red lunch container, and the almost comedic abundance packed into Daniel's oversized box. Each lunch felt like a window into who they were, expressing in small ways the people they had grown to be.
Diana, empty-handed, couldn't help but feel like an observer, a guest witnessing something private.
But Daniel didn't let her stay a bystander for long. Without a word, he grabbed one of his sandwiches, placing it on the cover of his box like a makeshift plate. He added a couple of sushi rolls on the side and handed it to her, smiling sheepishly. "Here, this is a little bit of everything."
Diana hesitated for a second, but the kindness in his eyes made her accept it with a grateful nod.
Then, without missing a beat, Luna leaned over, carefully scooping a portion of her rice and one of the soft-boiled eggs onto Daniel's makeshift plate for Diana. She didn't say anything, simply returning to her food, but there was a softness in her normally stoic expression, an almost imperceptible shift that showed she'd thought this through.
Ava, not to be outdone, stabbed a large piece of grilled chicken from her own container and added it on top of Daniel's sandwich. "Here, some extra protein," she declared confidently, as if that was all the explanation he needed.
Diana stared down at the mismatched, generous portions on her makeshift plate, a strange warmth filling her chest. It wasn't fancy or perfectly arranged, but somehow, seeing bits of each of their lunches mixed together made her feel… included, in a way she hadn't in a long time.
She looked up at them, each of them focused back on their own food but subtly glancing her way to see her reaction. A small smile crept onto her face, the awkwardness melting as she realized that, even in silence, they were all looking out for her.