Roman left and came back, only to see Tara sitting up as he approached. "It's closing time already," he said nonchalantly. Tara barely responded, simply muttering, "Ohhh," and going back to what she was doing. She then added, "If you see my sister, just tell her I'm still in class and that you went to get your bag. But it'd be better if you avoid her. I know she'll probably ask other math students. If you have to talk to her, just tell her the representatives are us. You can lie about anything except this." She pointed to herself, her tone firm yet tired.
Roman didn't seem to care. His gaze stayed fixed on her, and Tara, already annoyed, asked sharply, "Why are you staring at me?" She didn't expect him to answer, and he didn't. He just turned and walked away, leaving her frustrated. The guy was impossible to read—his cold expression never changed, making it even harder for her to figure him out.
As he disappeared into the distance, Tara sighed, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. Her mind wandered back to the reason she was alone in school in the first place: her family. She couldn't bear to face them in the state she was in. The pain in her knees and legs, the sharp throbbing that felt like her bones were being twisted, was too much to hide. She hated feeling weak, but that was exactly how she felt. She pushed herself not to show it, determined to keep up her usual appearance of calm strength.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Tara was still alone in the empty school halls. Most of the students had already left, but she knew some would stay—this was a high school that never truly closed. The library was closed for the day, and practice for the basketball team had been canceled, leaving only the most dedicated nerds in the library. She limped down the empty hall, her legs protesting every step.
She took the path that no one else seemed to follow, heading toward the school gate. When she finally stepped outside, she was greeted by the chill of evening. It was already 5:30 PM, far later than she had realized. Normally, the school closed at 4 PM, but time had flown by as her mind had been consumed by everything happening. The thought of her sister and the lies she had to keep spinning made her feel even more burdened.
Tara entered a nearby arcade, where everyone was busy with their games and laughter. She couldn't help but smile when she saw a little boy dragging his mom to another game he wanted to play. It reminded her of simpler times. She continued deeper into the arcade until she reached the soundproof box she liked—the one that allowed her to block out the world. She dropped her bag inside and sat down, resting her head. The memories of what had happened, the bullying, the pain, swirled around her. She didn't want to admit it, but she was terrified. Terrified of what might come next. The thought of it all made her cry uncontrollably.
After a while, Tara wiped her face and decided to leave. She walked to a bakery, hoping the familiar sweetness of her favorite cake would bring her comfort. She ordered it, and as she ate, she felt some of her tension ease, but not enough to take away the weight of the pain that lingered in her heart. Her face had returned to normal, but her green eyes still held a trace of the tears she'd shed.
It was now dark outside, and most of the shops were closed for the night. Tara started her walk home, but her body was exhausted, and her leg was making it harder to move. She considered waiting for the bus, but the pain made it impossible to get close to the station. And just then, it began to rain. Heavily. Tara forced herself into a convenience store to buy an umbrella, but they were all out. So, she trudged back into the rain, soaked to the bone, the weight of the world pressing down on her.
She knew it was getting late, and worse, her phone had died. She kept walking, hoping to reach home, but with each step, she felt herself growing weaker. The rain only seemed to intensify, and after walking along the roadside for what felt like an eternity, she collapsed. The world around her blurred, and everything went dark.
*****
The heavy rain battered the windshield as Roman sat silently in the backseat of his father's sleek black car. His driver navigated the dimly lit road, the rhythmic sound of the wipers doing little to distract Roman from his thoughts.
He glanced outside, the hazy glow of streetlights illuminating the otherwise dark road. Something caught his eye—a motionless figure lying near the roadside. His heart skipped a beat. Is that… a person?
"Stop the car!" Roman's voice was sharp, startling the driver.
"Young master, it's raining heavily—"
"I said, stop!"
The tires screeched as the car came to an abrupt halt. Roman didn't wait for the driver to protest further. He threw the door open and rushed into the rain. As he approached the figure, his stomach twisted. It was Tara.
She lay there, soaked to the bone, her uniform clinging to her small frame. Her face was pale, her eyes closed, and her lips had turned a faint shade of blue.
"Tara," Roman whispered, kneeling beside her. His hands hovered uncertainly before gently shaking her shoulder. "Tara, wake up!"
No response.
A surge of panic shot through him. Without hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms, her cold, limp body pressing against his chest. He turned to the driver. "Open the door, now!"
"Young master, she'll soak the car—"
"Do it!" Roman's tone left no room for argument.
The driver scrambled to obey, and Roman slid into the backseat, cradling Tara carefully. Her head rested on his lap, her wet hair dripping onto his trousers. He clasped her hands, trying to warm them, his jaw clenched tightly. How did this happen?
"Drive. Fast." His voice was low but commanding.
The car sped through the rain-slicked streets, the sound of water splashing against the tires blending with Roman's racing thoughts. He glanced down at Tara, her damp bangs sticking to her forehead. Guilt gnawed at him. I shouldn't have left her. Why did I listen to her?
By the time they reached his house, Roman's nerves were frayed. He carried Tara inside, ignoring the rainwater dripping onto the pristine floors. His mind raced as he laid her gently on the large couch bed in his bedroom.
Her uniform clung uncomfortably to her skin, and Roman frowned. She was shivering slightly, her lips quivering as she mumbled incoherently. He reached for a towel and hot water, trying to bring her temperature up, but it wasn't enough.
He stared at her soaked uniform. She'll catch a fever if she stays like this… but I can't just… Roman paced nervously, his gaze shifting between Tara and the soaked towel in his hand. She looked so fragile, her pale skin and wet hair making her seem even smaller than usual. He sighed, frustrated. The warm compress wasn't working, and her clothes were drenched.
His face flushed as the thought crossed his mind. He paced the room, torn between his worry for her health and his hesitation. Should I wake her up? No, she's unconscious. But if I don't do something, she'll—
He quickly called the doctor, his mind racing. What if I've done something wrong? What if I'm too late? The doctor arrived promptly, and Roman practically dragged her inside, pleading, "Please, can you help her? She's so cold, and her clothes are drenched."
Dr. Stella, who had been his family's nurse for years, gave him a comforting smile. "Don't worry, Roman. I'll take care of her."
As she worked, Roman fumbled through his wardrobe, grabbing clothes for Tara. His hands were shaking, his mind still foggy with worry. He hung the clothes on the door handle and knocked, his voice almost pleading, "The clothes are on the door. I'll be in the living room."
He left quickly, his heart pounding.
Once Tara was changed, Dr. Stella told him that she'd prepared some soup for her and that she'd wake up soon. "She'll be fine. Don't worry," she said with a reassuring smile. Roman nodded, but inside, he wasn't so sure. He felt this overwhelming urge to take care of her, to protect her, even though he couldn't fully understand why. It was as if something inside him had shifted when he saw her lying there, vulnerable and hurting.
Roman walked outside to the balcony, seeking solace in the night sky. He stood there, the cool breeze hitting his face, his eyes stinging with tears. The stars reminded him of his mother, the promise he had made to never cry again, yet here he was—fighting the urge to break down. He couldn't shake the feeling of loss, of emptiness that had followed him ever since her death.
Suddenly, he turned around and gasped. Tara was standing in the doorway, looking confused but surprisingly cute in his clothes. She looked like a teddy bear, small and vulnerable, her green eyes wide in confusion.
Roman's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly masked it. "What are you doing here?" Tara asked, still trying to piece together what had happened.
Roman explained everything, and as he spoke, Tara's gaze shifted. She suddenly realized she wasn't in her uniform, and her face flushed with realization. "What the hell did you do?" she yelled, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him down.
Roman was caught off guard. He was taller than her, but she had managed to grab him, her strength surprising him. "It wasn't me! It was the nurse, I swear!" he said quickly, trying to calm her down.
Tara hesitated, and then, slowly, the anger left her eyes, replaced by embarrassment. "Sweet heavens, why did I think that?" she muttered, her face turning beet red.
Roman, still flustered, awkwardly asked, "Can you get off me now?"
Tara quickly stood up, brushing herself off and heading toward the garden. Roman, still dazed, watched her as she went. She was cute, but her expressions were so real, so raw, that it made him feel like he had to protect her, even though he couldn't fully explain why. "Why is your house so huge?" she asked, breaking the tension, and that made him smile despite himself.
Roman was caught in a whirlwind of emotions he couldn't fully process. But for the first time in a long while, he felt something other than the cold emptiness that had followed him for so long.