The milk tea slowly dripped down Howie's face, but he didn't wipe it away. His gaze lingered on Emily, heavy and brooding.
"He really is gone."
A chill swept through her, freezing her from the inside out. She inhaled deeply, reached into her bag, pulled out her wallet, and placed enough money for the tea on the table.
She no longer wished to speak with him.
"That guy is not Young! If he ever finds out that you're only close to him because of his heart, that your smile and concern are meant for someone else, what do you think he'd feel?" Howie's voice cracked with anguish.
"Are you threatening me?"
Emily's voice was soft—so soft it was barely more than a whisper.
Yet, for some reason, that whisper momentarily stunned him. He was reminded of their childhood, how she always laughed and played beside Young, but whenever she looked his way, it was with nothing but a glare.
She stood and, with a quiet calm, said to him:
"I know he's not Young. But Young is with him."
With those words, she turned and walked out of the dessert shop.
The sunset bathed the room in a thick, warm glow as Howie sat there, paralyzed by the moment. She didn't even spare him a glance.
She had never truly seen him.
Even after Young's passing, when he devoted every day to being by her side, trying to help her find joy again, trying to bring a smile back to her face, it was only when she learned that Young's heart had been transplanted into that guy named Ryan that he saw a flicker of light in her eyes again. She went to Elm Academy, sought out that boy, and so he transferred from Lingyun to Elm, yet she couldn't even muster a welcoming smile for him.
But she smiled for "him."
Even knowing that he was not Young, she preferred to smile at a mere illusion rather than cast a glance in his direction.
Howie closed his eyes.
The cold milk tea slid down his neck.
In the afternoon, a light rain drizzled outside. Inside the classroom, the international settlement teacher was conducting her lesson, and the students in the international trade class were nervously taking notes.
This international settlement teacher was notorious, often referred to as one of the "Four Great Captors." Each semester, she would have many students redo her course, and much of what she taught wasn't found in the textbooks; taking meticulous notes was essential. Additionally, she called the roll in every class, and seniors warned that if a student was absent three times, their chances of passing the exam were virtually nonexistent.
"I would like to invite a student to answer this question," the international settlement teacher said, lowering her head to open the attendance roster. The students held their breath, silently praying. "Ryan?"
The teacher's gaze scanned the classroom.
"Ryan?"
Emily glanced over at Ryan's seat, biting her lip and furrowing her brow. Howie also raised his head, his gaze dark as he looked at Emily.
The seat at the back of the classroom by the window was empty.
A sparrow flew in, chirping at that vacant spot.
"Skipping class, is it?" The settlement teacher's expression remained unchanged as she marked the attendance roster. "Ryan has already missed two classes."
"He's sick!"
Emily quickly stood up from her seat, nervously "explaining" to the teacher.
"Sick? What's wrong with him?"
"A cold." That was the first word that popped into Emily's mind.
"A cold is a reason to miss class?" The international settlement teacher frowned.
"And then he had a fever!"
"How high was it?"
"...Thirty-nine degrees." Emily's face turned red, as if it was she, not Ryan, who had the fever.
The teacher scrutinized her for a moment before turning to Yuki in the front row. "Did Ryan ask you for a sick leave?"
Yuki slowly looked up, her peripheral vision catching Emily nervously gripping her fingers in the back. After a moment of hesitation, she replied in a deep voice:
"Yeah, he did."
The teacher nodded and made a note in the attendance roster.
Emily let out a sigh of relief, feeling a chill on her forehead as beads of cold sweat formed. Unable to help herself, she turned to look at the spot in the back of the classroom where Ryan usually sat.
The sparrow flapped its wings and flew away.
A thin layer of dust covered the surface of the desk.
He hadn't been to class for three days.