The afternoon classes flew by in the blink of an eye.
Ryan had slept through the entire session. Stretching as he got up, he yawned loudly, feeling the ache in every bone in his body. With a lazy grin, he said, "I'm taking you somewhere later."
Emily was packing up her books. "Where are we going?"
"You'll find out when we get there!" he replied impatiently, then glanced at her again. She was wearing a white sundress, her short, fluffy hair catching the light. In the sunshine, she looked almost... translucent. "You..."
"What?"
"Uh, you look nice today," he muttered, his voice so low that Emily nearly missed it.
"Thanks."
"Why do you always wear white?" he asked, still avoiding her gaze. Apart from that one time he gave her the green dress for their "date," she always seemed to wear white.
"White is the color of angels," she replied with a soft smile.
"Angels?" Why was she always talking about these things?
"Yes. Angels are pure and untainted, so they love white. If you wear white, it makes it easier for the angels to find you," she explained, her voice serene.
"Find what?" Ryan asked, baffled. The more she spoke, the less sense it made to him.
"Emily."
A voice, deep as the night, cut through the air.
Startled, Emily's hand trembled, causing her book to fall with a soft thud onto the floor. She hurried to pick it up, her mind racing. Why am I always so clumsy? She berated herself for the sudden awkwardness.
Two hands reached down at the same time, just in front of hers.
She froze.
One hand got there first, swiftly snatching the book off the ground and unceremoniously tossing it into her arms. A familiar flick to the forehead followed.
"Ugh, you're hopeless! When we meet my friends later, don't embarrass me like this, got it?" Ryan grumbled, clearly irritated. Ever since that new transfer student walked into class, Emily had been acting strange. There was definitely something up.
"Oh," Emily muttered, rubbing her forehead, awkwardly smiling to cover her discomfort.
"Apologize to her."
Howie stood before Ryan, his towering height radiating an overwhelming presence. His gaze was sharp, piercing, cold as ice as he stared Ryan down.
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "And who do you think you are?"
"She's not someone you can just push around." Howie's eyes flicked to the faint red mark on Emily's forehead, and a pang of guilt pierced through him. "Apologize to her."
"It's fine! Really, it doesn't hurt at all!" Emily quickly interjected, her voice hurried and anxious.
Ryan shot her a glance before turning back to Howie. "What's she got to do with you? She's my..." He hesitated, his frustration flaring, "my girlfriend. I like scolding her, teasing her—what's it to you?"
"Girlfriend?"
Howie's expression shifted, his dark eyes filled with an unbearable weight as they slowly settled on Emily.
"Is that true? Are you… his girlfriend?"
Emily bit down on her lip. Under Howie's gaze, heavy with sorrow and disbelief, she suddenly found it hard to breathe.
A few students still lingered in the room, curiously watching the tense standoff unfolding in the back of the classroom. There stood Ryan, brimming with anger, Howie with pain etched into his expression, and between them, pale-faced and silent—Emily.
The soft afternoon sunlight filtered into the classroom.
The leaves by the window shimmered, fragrant and translucent in the breeze.
Ryan slowly turned his head, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the silent Emily. "Hey! Tell him—you're my girlfriend, aren't you?!"
It was the first time he had ever seen Emily like this.
Her face was ghostly pale, as if her very soul had drifted away, leaving behind only a shadow. Though she stood right there in the warm sunlight, she suddenly felt distant—untouchable, unreachable.
"Didn't you hear me? Tell him!" Ryan's voice quivered with an unfamiliar sense of panic. His hands clenched her shoulders, shaking her roughly in frustration.
"Let her go!"
Howie's hand shot out, grabbing Ryan's wrist.
Crack!
Ryan's fist collided with Howie's face, sending his head snapping to the side.
"Howie!" Emily cried, rushing forward to steady him as he staggered. Her senses finally returned, and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
A thin trickle of blood ran down from Howie's nose.
Emily quickly pulled out a tissue, standing on her tiptoes to press it gently against Howie's bleeding nose. He took over, holding the tissue in place, but also briefly grasped her fingers. Startled, she swiftly pulled her hand away, glancing nervously at Ryan.
Yet Ryan, oddly enough, had fallen silent.
His eyes coldly assessed Emily and Howie standing together. "You knew him before." It wasn't a question—it was a statement, cold and sharp.
"We've been together since we were kids," Howie replied, his voice steady and resolute.
"Shut up! I wasn't asking you!" Ryan's gaze felt like a blade as it cut into Emily. "Tell me!"
Emily hesitated, her lips pressed tightly together before she finally whispered, "Yes."
Ryan's jaw clenched. "Does he love you?"
Emily stood frozen, unsure how to respond to a question that carried so much weight.
"It's none of your concern whether I love her or not," Howie said, his voice low as he placed a protective hand on her shoulder. Then he turned to Emily, his eyes searching hers. "Is this the guy? Is this the one who…"
"Howie!" Emily gasped, cutting him off in a panic.
Howie let out a bitter smile. "I never imagined something like this could happen…"
"Emily," Ryan spoke each word deliberately, his voice colder than ice. "Tell me, what's your relationship with him?" The blood in his veins seemed to freeze, and in that moment, he felt like the world's biggest fool.
"I..." Emily knew he had misunderstood, but Howie's sudden reappearance had thrown her into disarray. What exactly was her relationship with Howie? Should she tell Ryan that Howie was Young's best friend? That he had always harbored feelings for her?
"We were classmates," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper as she lowered her head.
"Just classmates?" Ryan's cold gaze pierced through her, seeing her standing next to Howie made him want to pummel the guy all over again.
"Yes." She nodded, though her fingers twisted together nervously.
Ryan stared at her, his expression darkening.
She was lying to him.
Was this the first time she had lied to him, or had she been lying all along?
"Come with me."
Howie, unable to bear it any longer, grabbed her arm and began pulling her toward the classroom door. Emily struggled—she couldn't leave. Ryan was already furious, and his cold silence was far more terrifying than any outburst.
"Let me go, Howie! I can't go—I have things to deal with..." she pleaded, trying desperately to free herself from his grip.
"What things?!" Howie's voice, like the stillness before a storm, grew harsher.
"I..." Emily bit her lip and glanced back at Ryan, who stood at the back of the room.
Ryan stood there, alone, watching them.