The late afternoon sun filtered through the magnolia trees in the main courtyard of Primazia School, creating a play of light and shadow on the impeccably swept ground. The buildings, with their classical architecture, seemed untouched by time, while uniformed students filled the space with laughter and conversation. The navy-blue blazers and crisp white shirts were part of a dress code as strict as the standard of excellence the school represented.
Brana, however, didn't seem particularly concerned about the formality of the place. Leaning against one of the trees, he held his backpack with one hand, his gaze distracted as he watched the activity around him. His uniform always seemed a bit snug, the fabric of the shirt pulling slightly at the sides whenever he moved. His sturdy, rounded frame made him stand out among the other students, but he didn't seem to mind. It was something he had learned to accept—or at least ignore.
His curly, voluminous hair, already a bit disheveled from the day's heat, added to his presence, standing out like a natural crown. His dark brown eyes observed the flow of students with a calm but cautious focus, always watching. He knew that for many people, his appearance was the first thing they noticed, but it was his actions that truly stayed in their minds.
A small commotion near one of the transport carts caught his attention. A group of boys was trying to push it, but the cart seemed stuck on a slight elevation in the ground. One of them, scrawny and clearly frustrated, gave the wheel a half-hearted kick, which didn't help at all.
"Need some help?" Brana asked, walking over without hesitation.
The boys stopped and looked at him for a moment, hesitant. "It's stuck," one of them said, pointing at the wheel as if it were an insurmountable problem.
Brana knelt down, his uniform tightening slightly as he crouched, and quickly assessed the issue. With a firm movement, he lifted the cart by its base and pushed it forward, freeing the wheel from the obstacle. The cart slid smoothly onto the flat ground, ready for use.
"There you go," he said, dusting off his hands on his pants. "It wasn't that stuck."
The boys stood silent for a moment, clearly surprised. "Thanks," one of them mumbled, while another added with a hint of a smile, "You're really strong."
Brana gave a faint, lopsided smile but didn't reply. He was used to these reactions—the initial surprise, the almost-compliment. It didn't take much to prove he was more capable than he appeared at first glance.
As the boys went on their way, Brana turned toward the bench where Luma was sitting. He spotted her swinging her legs with an open notebook on her lap, completely absorbed in her drawing, oblivious to the bustle of the courtyard.
"Brana, look!" she called out the moment she noticed him approaching.
He smiled, crouching down to sit beside her. Luma held up the notebook, showing him a drawing of a house surrounded by trees. The lines were simple, but she had clearly put effort into adding details like flowers and tiny birds in the sky.
"Do you like it? Do you think Mom and Dad would like it?" she asked, her expression curious and filled with innocent anticipation.
Brana looked at the drawing, but the weight of her question lingered. He knew their parents rarely showed interest in anything as trivial as a child's drawing. Even with all the money and resources they sent, their presence was something that always felt missing.
"I like it," he said, meeting her eyes. "And that counts, doesn't it?"
Luma beamed, satisfied with the answer, and went back to adding more details to her drawing. Brana stayed beside her for a moment, watching her. She seemed to find joy effortlessly, as though everything could be solved with a pencil and a piece of paper.
The bell rang, breaking the courtyard's tranquility. Students began to rise, adjusting their backpacks and chatting as they made their way into the buildings. "Go to your class now," he said, standing up and gently patting her shoulder. "I'll see you after school."
Luma nodded and packed her notebook into her backpack, running toward the wing for younger students. Brana watched her until she disappeared among the other students. Only then did he adjust his own backpack and pull his headphones from his pocket.
As he walked toward the main building, he placed the headphones over his ears and pressed play on his music player. A soft melody began to play, drowning out the sounds around him. The music was his retreat, a small space where he could escape the weight of responsibilities that always seemed to follow him.
Though he felt at peace in these moments, a brief thought crossed his mind: Do other people my age feel this way? Or is it just me, overthinking things? He shook his head, pushing the doubt aside, and turned up the volume. No matter how chaotic the school or the outside world might be, with his headphones on, he could focus and move forward.
The hallway buzzed with voices and footsteps, but Brana barely noticed. Tall windows let in enough light to brighten the space, and he passed them without hurry. Yet something made him pause.
Outside, the sky seemed slightly different. It wasn't obvious, but there was a faint glow—almost imperceptible—that shimmered near the horizon. Brana stood still for a moment, frowning. The light seemed to shift subtly, as if it were breathing along with the sky.
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the oddness. Maybe it's just the sun reflecting weirdly off the clouds. Even so, the thought lingered. As he adjusted his headphones and continued walking, he felt a slight shiver he couldn't explain.
When he entered the classroom, he found his usual seat and sat down. The teacher was already writing on the digital board, while the other students were still settling into their chairs. Brana removed one of his headphones and opened his notebook, idly doodling as the lesson began.
The glow on the horizon didn't seem important at that moment, but it stayed in the back of his mind, a vague memory he couldn't define or forget.
As Brana remained focused, he barely noticed time passing. The class seemed endless until the final bell echoed through the corridors, signaling the end of the day. He sighed, closing his notebook slowly, and began packing his materials into his backpack. Moving calmly, he stood, adjusted his uniform, and slung the bag over his shoulder as he made his way toward the exit.
"Hey, Brana!"
The voice made him stop. He turned to see Caleb and Ryan approaching, their usual grins on display. Caleb, tall and lanky, had perpetually messy brown hair and an eager look, as if always ready for the next adventure. Ryan was the opposite—shorter, sturdier, and with a steady posture—but his relaxed demeanor matched his friend's perfectly.
"Hey, man! What do you think about joining us today? We're going to karaoke," Caleb said, placing a hand on Brana's shoulder. "Some girls from class are going to be there."
Ryan smirked and added in a teasing tone, "After the last time you went, they said they'd only come if you showed up too."
Brana raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "Really?"
"Of course!" Caleb said theatrically. "You practically hypnotized everyone with your voice. Now we have to deal with the comparisons."
Ryan nodded in mock indignation. "Yeah, you need to mess up on purpose next time, just so we have a chance."
Brana chuckled as he began to walk away. "Sorry, guys. Not tonight. I've got plans with my little sister."
"Ah, it's always like this! Luma wins again," Caleb complained, though his smile showed he wasn't serious.
Brana waved them off without looking back, hearing their laughter fade behind him. As he put his headphones back on, a cheerful melody started playing, drowning out the surrounding noise and bringing a sense of lightness he always appreciated. The walk through the school grounds toward the main gate became a peaceful moment.
The courtyard was alive with activity, students chatting, organizing themselves for after-school plans, or simply relaxing before heading home. Despite exams approaching, no one seemed particularly stressed. The quality of education here was so high that even the most average student knew they were ahead of the curve compared to anywhere else.
Brana smiled to himself, letting the rhythm of the music guide his steps as he approached the gate. Just before he reached it, he spotted Luma standing beside Phil, who waited as always with his impeccable posture. The moment she saw Brana, Luma let out an excited shout and ran toward him.
"Brana! Look at this!"
She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly before pulling a sheet of paper from her backpack. "Do you remember what you promised if I got a perfect score on my test?"
Brana took the paper and examined the flawless grades, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Well done, Luma. You're amazing. Better than I was at your age."
She grinned from ear to ear, clearly proud. "So… what's for dinner tonight?"
"You get to choose, don't you? What will it be?"
Luma placed a finger on her chin, pacing dramatically back and forth with an exaggerated expression of deep thought. After a few seconds, she jumped and shouted, "Outdoor barbecue!"
Brana blinked in surprise. "Barbecue? That's dinner to you?"
"Yes!" she said, crossing her arms with a mischievous smile.
He sighed but laughed shortly after. "Alright. Let's make it happen."
Taking her hand, Brana walked over to Phil, who waited patiently beside the car.
"Phil, please prepare the garden for a barbecue. We'll stop at the supermarket before heading home."
"As you wish, Master Brana," Phil replied, inclining his head slightly. He paused briefly and looked at Luma, who was bouncing excitedly beside Brana. "Miss Luma, perhaps you'd like to help me choose the perfect spot for setting up the tables later?"
"Of course!" Luma answered, laughing. Phil gave a faint smile, adjusting his glasses before opening the car door. He always interacted subtly, making sure the siblings felt comfortable.
The car gleamed under the setting sun as the three of them climbed inside.
At the supermarket, Luma took the lead as if she were on a mission. She dashed through the aisles, grabbing items and seeking Brana's approval before tossing them into the cart.
"Brana, look at these giant marshmallows! Can we toast them too?"
"Only if you promise not to eat them all by yourself," he replied, pushing the cart and laughing at her enthusiasm.
"I promise!" she said, clutching the bag like a trophy before tossing it in the cart.
They continued selecting meats, vegetables, and sauces. Luma insisted on adding colorful juices and bags of chips.
"This isn't barbecue, Luma," Brana teased.
"It's a special barbecue!" she retorted with a cheeky grin.
When they arrived home, the sky was painted in hues of orange and purple.
The car pulled up smoothly in front of their large house, with its elegant stone façade and expansive windows reflecting the fiery glow of the sunset. Surrounded by a meticulously maintained garden of symmetrical hedges and softly colored flowers, the home felt both secluded and perfectly harmonious with the landscape. Tall trees and distant mountains added a sense of peace to the scene.
Brana opened the door carefully, holding one of the shopping bags as Luma hopped out from the other side, clutching her notebook to her chest. Phil, seated in the driver's seat, adjusted his glasses and stepped out gracefully, already moving to open the trunk.
"Let me take care of this, Master Brana," he said, gathering the remaining bags with practiced efficiency.
Brana shrugged, adjusting his backpack on one shoulder while carrying his own bag. "Thanks, Phil. Let's go, Luma. Grab your bag before you run inside."
Luma stopped mid-step, making a small face before returning to the car to retrieve her backpack. Once she managed to balance everything, she dashed toward the house, her curls bouncing with every eager step.
By the time Brana entered, the lights had turned on automatically, casting a warm glow on the cobblestone path leading through the garden. The soft hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves filled the air, signaling the arrival of evening.
Phil opened the door with precision, holding it for the siblings to pass through. "The groceries will be in the kitchen shortly. Do you need anything else, Master Brana?"
"No, that'll do for now. Thanks, Phil," Brana replied as Luma darted down the hallway, dropping her backpack onto the floor carelessly.
"Luma," Brana called out, his voice calm. "Go take a bath and change, alright? Then meet me in the garden."
"Okay!" she shouted back, grabbing her bag again and dashing up the stairs, still clutching her notebook tightly.
Brana sighed, watching her disappear upstairs before turning to Phil, who was already sorting the shopping bags on the counter by the entrance. "If you need any help, I'll be in my room."
"Everything will be handled, Master Brana," Phil assured him with a small nod as he continued his task.
Brana climbed the stairs slowly, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders. His room was a curious mix of his passions and his responsibilities. On one side, musical instruments dominated the space—a keyboard leaned against the wall, a guitar hung from a mount, and small flutes were neatly arranged on a shelf. Nearby, stacks of sheet music and notebooks were scattered across his desk, alongside a worn pencil and a smudged eraser.
The opposite side was a stark contrast, featuring his simple exercise equipment: a punching bag hanging from a ceiling mount, a row of dumbbells lined neatly against the wall, and a jump rope lying casually near the chair. It was a constant reminder of what a doctor had told him years ago—his condition made him prone to gaining weight easily, requiring him to stay active for his health. Over time, staying fit had become a habit, even if it wasn't always enjoyable.
Though spacious, the room carried the subtle disarray of someone juggling too many tasks. A lone sock lay forgotten near the bed, crumpled papers littered the floor, and an open notebook full of musical scribbles rested on the desk. Light curtains fluttered in the evening breeze by the window, and a corkboard on the wall displayed magazine clippings, old notes, and drawings by Luma.
He closed the door behind him, tossing his backpack onto a chair. Pulling his headphones from his pocket, he set them and his music player down on the table. Before putting them on, he walked over to the window.
Outside, the garden looked serene and inviting under the warm glow of the house lights. Flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and the first stars dotted the darkening sky. For a moment, Brana stood there, appreciating the calmness that contrasted sharply with the whirlwind of responsibilities he constantly carried.
He turned away, removed his uniform, and grabbed a towel, deciding on a quick shower before heading back downstairs to meet Luma in the garden.
The siblings stepped outside together, following the garden's stone path illuminated by the soft lights from the house. The cool night air was filled with the steady sound of the small stone fountain, occasionally interrupted by the crackle of the barbecue grill. The aroma of seasoned meat began to mix with the crispness of the evening, creating a cozy, welcoming atmosphere.
"Good evening, young masters," one of the housemaids greeted with a polite smile as she adjusted skewers on the grill. Another was busy arranging plates and cutlery on the table, murmuring something about how perfect the weather was for an outdoor barbecue.
"Good evening!" Luma replied cheerfully, climbing onto a chair to get a closer look at the skewers and the already-prepared dishes.
"Let us handle this," Brana said, rolling up his sleeves as he approached. "Luma, grab the skewers and start assembling them, but be careful not to poke yourself."
"Okay!" she chirped, eagerly picking up the skewers with deliberate care. Brana organized the bowls of meat and vegetables, guiding her on how to arrange them. She followed his instructions intently, treating the task as though it were of utmost importance.
Brana worked calmly, distributing ingredients onto the skewers and monitoring the grill's heat. The maids, having finished their preparations, stood aside with discreet smiles, quietly appreciating the sight of the siblings working together.
Soon, the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat filled the air. Brana used tongs to flip the skewers while Luma stood nearby, holding a plate and bouncing slightly with excitement.
"Almost ready," Brana said as he began placing a few finished skewers onto the table.
Luma grabbed the first piece of meat and took a big bite, her face lighting up. "This is so good!" she exclaimed, grinning with satisfaction.
The two of them ate together, laughing and chatting about their day. Between bites, Brana asked Luma about school, listening patiently as she animatedly recounted her experiences. With fewer chores to do, the maids sat nearby, enjoying the aroma and the siblings' lighthearted conversation.
After everyone had eaten their fill, Luma looked at Brana with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Brana, can you play the guitar? And sing too?"
Brana wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at her, pretending to hesitate. "Here? Now? In front of everyone?"
"Yes! Please! You sing so well!" she insisted, clapping her hands excitedly. The maids chuckled softly, nodding in agreement.
Brana sighed, unable to resist. "Alright, alright. I'll get the guitar." He stood and walked back into the house, returning a few minutes later with the instrument in hand.
Settling onto a nearby bench, he began adjusting the strings. Luma sat cross-legged on the grass, her eyes shining with anticipation, while the others watched quietly.
When Brana started playing, the first chords filled the garden with a gentle, soothing melody. His deep, warm voice joined the music, resonating through the cool night air and transforming the moment into something magical. The song carried a calm rhythm, almost like an intimate conversation, and everyone seemed captivated. The maids, who had been whispering to each other earlier, fell silent, their gazes fixed on Brana as if the music had turned the night into something extraordinary.
Luma, now lying on the bench, began to relax as the melody wrapped around her. Her eyelids drooped, and soon she was fast asleep, her peaceful expression framed by her curls.
As the song ended, Brana looked over and saw that Luma had drifted off. Smiling, he set the guitar aside and stood. "Sorry, everyone, but it looks like the show's over for tonight," he said, walking over to pick up his sister.
He carried her easily, her small frame light in his arms. The walk back to the house was quiet, the garden lit by soft lights and the gentle twinkle of stars above. Entering the house, Brana moved through the halls with steady steps until he reached Luma's room.
Placing her on the bed, he tucked the blankets around her carefully. Sitting for a moment, he watched her sleep, her face relaxed and free of worry.
"Good night, Luma," he whispered, standing up and turning off the light before leaving.
As Brana walked back to his room, he felt a sense of contentment. The evening had been simple but filled with moments he knew he'd treasure. These were the moments that made everything—every effort, every responsibility—worth it.