Days passed, and Yona found himself feeling... different.
At first, he thought it was just relief that he had finally broken free from Lena's hold, relief that he had avoided something dangerous. But as time went on, he realized it was more than that.
It was Mia.
She was always there, but not in a way that suffocated him. She didn't demand his attention, didn't try to force her presence on him. Instead, she was just... there. Walking beside him in the hallways, sharing quiet conversations before class, offering him her extra snacks even when he didn't ask.
And for the first time, Yona noticed.
He noticed the way she bite her lip when she was nervous, the way she twirled her pen in her fingers when she was deep in thought. He noticed the way her laughter was soft but warm, how it carried a gentleness that made his chest feel... strange.
One afternoon, The school bell rang, sharp and final, cutting through the air like a blade. Students spilled into the corridors, laughter and chatter echoing through the walls, but Yona and Mia moved quietly down the steps, side by side.
There was a new comfort between them—subtle but sure. Yona still held her hand in his, his thumb brushing against her knuckles from time to time .
as they walked home together, he finally spoke the words that had been sitting in his mind.
"Mia," he said, his voice quieter than usual.
She turned to him, surprised. "Yeah?"
He hesitated, then exhaled. "Why did you do all of that for me?"
Mia blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You always tried to help me. You cared, even when I ignored you. Even when I..." He swallowed, guilt creeping in. "Even when I hurt you."
Mia looked down, gripping the strap of her bag. "I already told you, Yona. I see you."
His chest tightened. "But why?"
She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "Because you're worth it."
Yona froze.
Mia's eyes searched his, and for the first time, he let himself hold her gaze, truly taking in the sincerity behind her words.
Worth it.
No one had ever said that to him before.
He had always felt like nothing, just a poor boy from a small wooden house, chasing a girl who never saw him. But Mia... she had seen him from the start.
And for the first time, he realized, maybe she had always been the one.
He didn't know what this feeling was yet.
But for the first time, he wanted to find out.
As they continued walking, Yona did something he had never done before.
He reached out—slowly, hesitantly—and took her hand.
Mia's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away.
And for the first time in a long time, Yona didn't feel so lost anymore.
The warmth of Mia's hand in his own felt strange, yet comforting. Yona wasn't sure what had come over him when he reached for her. It was an instinct, a quiet pull that told him he didn't want to let her go.
Mia, on the other hand, felt like she was dreaming. For years, she had watched him chase after Lena, waiting silently in the shadows, hoping that one day he would turn around and see her. And now, here he was, holding her hand.
Neither of them spoke about it, but neither of them let go.
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Just as they reached the edge of the school grounds, a figure stepped into their path.
Lena.
She stood in front of them like a shadow that refused to disappear, her arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"Yona," she said, her voice softer than usual—too soft. "Can I have a second of your time?"
Yona didn't stop walking. He simply turned his gaze to Mia, still holding her hand.
"There's nothing to talk about," he said calmly, almost wearily. But the grip on Mia's hand tightened for a second.
Lena's lips parted as if to argue, but Yona didn't give her the chance. He released Mia's hand, gently, and took a step forward.
"I'll wait," Mia said quietly, though her heart twisted at the sudden distance between them.
He looked back at her once, uncertain, then continued with Lena just a few steps away.
Mia stayed still, her fingers curling into fists. She watched the two of them speak—Lena saying something too quietly to hear, her eyes wide with something like desperation. But Yona's expression remained unreadable. Distant. Closed.
Something in Mia snapped. She took a step forward.
"Lena," she called, her voice sharp and unwavering. The two turned to her. Yona's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.
"Leave him alone," Mia said, walking toward them. Her voice trembled, not with fear—but with a quiet strength she'd been holding back for too long. "Isn't it enough what you've already done to him?"
Lena blinked, caught off guard.
"He chased you, waited for you, let you break him down piece by piece while you laughed with your friends like it meant nothing. And now that he's finally looking somewhere else—finally healing—you show up and ask for more of his time?"
Lena's mouth opened, but Mia didn't let her speak.
"You didn't want him when he needed you. And now that he's pulling himself together, now you think you do? That's not love. That's control."
The silence between them was deafening. Lena looked at Mia, and for the first time, there was no smirk, no arrogance. Only a flicker of something wounded. Maybe even guilt. Without another word, she turned and walked away.
Mia exhaled deeply, her pulse still racing. She turned to Yona, who looked stunned—but in his eyes, there was something else now. Gratitude. A quiet awe.
But before he could say anything, Mia caught something in the corner of her eye.
A figure standing near the school gate, still and quiet. Watching.
Noir
He stood at a distance, half-hidden in shadow, his arms crossed, one foot propped casually against the brick wall. But his eyes were locked on her. Observing. Measuring.
Mia's breath hitched.
"I—" she turned to Yona quickly, forcing a small smile. "Can you go on ahead? I just remembered I left something in my locker."
Yona blinked. "Want me to wait?"
She shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'll catch up."
He hesitated but nodded, brushing his hand against hers gently before turning to leave.
As soon as he was gone, Mia turned back toward the gate.
Noir was gone.
Her heart thudded, and without thinking, she stepped quickly after him—moving through the gate, scanning the edge of the sidewalk, the side alleys.
She didn't know what she was doing, or what she was even hoping to find. But something about the way he had looked at her—the way he always looked at her—made her legs move before her mind could catch up.
"Noir …" she whispered under her breath, her eyes searching the fading street.
She kept searching, her footsteps light but hurried, weaving through the side street that wrapped around the school's old gym building. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows over the ground. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with something she couldn't name.
Then she saw him.
Just beyond the corner, in a quiet space near the tall fence where the maintenance shed sat forgotten, Noir stood. His back was to her, his broad shoulders tense beneath the fading light. She took a step forward, her lips parting.
"Noi—"
But she froze.
He wasn't alone.
In front of him stood a woman. Not a student. Older. Early twenties, maybe. Her posture was rigid, like she was holding back something—anger, maybe, or sorrow. Her voice was hushed, too low for Mia to hear clearly, but her expression spoke volumes.
Desperation.
Noir had his head slightly bowed, one hand clenched tightly at his side while the other gripped the edge of the fence, as if grounding himself. He said nothing.
Then the woman reached out and touched his arm, gently.
It wasn't romantic—not exactly. But it wasn't distant, either. It was personal.
Mia stepped back slightly, instinctively, heart hammering. Who was she?
She wanted to look away, to leave, but her feet refused to move. Just as she took another breath, the woman's voice rose—sharper this time.
"Why are you running from this, Noir? Why are you pretending it never happened?"
His voice came next, quiet but hard.
"Because I have to."
And then he stepped back from her, turning fully—and for a split second, his eyes met Mia's.
He saw her.
She gasped quietly, caught like a thief in the dark. His expression flickered—something between surprise and exhaustion—and then he looked away, brushing past the woman and disappearing down the alley without another word.
The woman didn't follow.
She just stood there, looking in the direction he had gone, arms folded tightly across her chest as if trying to hold herself together.
Mia remained frozen for a moment. That scene… it felt too intimate, too heavy with history she didn't understand. But the way Noir looked at her—when he realized she had seen—there was no guilt, only pain. A silent plea not to ask questions.
But Mia had questions now.
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Mia's breath hitched as Noir's eyes met hers.
She hadn't meant to follow. She hadn't meant to witness that—whatever that was. But now she stood there, caught in the quiet space where secrets hung heavy in the air.
The woman with him slowly turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner without a word. Noir was alone now, his posture rigid, his face unreadable.
Mia stepped forward hesitantly, her voice low but clear.
"I don't know you," she began, stopping a few feet from him. "But I keep… seeing you. And every time, it feels like I'm watching a story unfold in pieces I'm not allowed to understand."
Noir didn't respond. He didn't flinch. He just looked at her, gaze sharp and distant.
"I saw her," Mia said, motioning vaguely to the direction the woman had gone. "She seemed… close to you. Like someone who knows things about you no one else does. She said you were running from something."
Still, no response. Not even a shift in his expression.
"I'm not trying to pry," Mia added quickly. "I just… I don't understand why someone who doesn't belong to this school, who barely says a word, always feels like he's at the center of something."
She paused, looking up at him. "You don't owe me an answer. I don't even know your last name."
Noir's eyes darkened slightly, something flickering behind them—but whatever it was, he locked it away again just as fast.
And then, without a single word, he turned and walked past her.
Not a glance back.
Mia stood frozen, her heart thudding quietly beneath her chest. She didn't know why she had hoped he'd speak. Maybe because in some strange way, she'd felt a connection—through glances, through silence, through something unspoken.
But now, all she had was silence.
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Mia walked home slowly, the weight of the encounter with Noir still heavy in her chest. She wasn't sure what had just happened. It had been confusing, distant, almost cold, but there was something about it that left her unsettled. She couldn't stop thinking about Noir . Why had acted this way ?
But as she walked, she realized something: it wasn't just the encounter with him that bothered her—it was the strange, magnetic pull she still felt.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realize she had slowed her pace until she noticed a figure ahead of her—Aria. Her best friend, with a small gift in her hands, was walking quietly but deliberately, her steps focused and purposeful.
Mia squinted. Aria? Why is she walking behind Noir?.
To be continue .....