The night had passed in quiet contrast to the storm of emotions lingering between the sisters. In their shared room, Diane sat at her desk, the soft glow of the lamp casting a golden hue over her textbooks. Her pen moved in steady strokes, flipping between notes, her focus unwavering.
Across from her, Dalian lay curled beneath the covers, her breathing slow and even, the weight of the day pulling her into sleep. The tension from earlier remained unspoken, but the silence between them wasn't entirely uncomfortable. It simply was.
Outside, the world darkened, and soon, morning arrived—not gently, but with its usual chaos.
---
The scent of frying eggs and warm bread filled the air, mingling with the early chill that seeped through the open windows.
Dalian stood by the stove, sleep still clinging to her eyes as she flipped the eggs with practiced ease. Her hair was a tangled mess, her apron slightly askew, but she moved with familiarity, shaking off drowsiness as the sizzle of oil kept her grounded.
"You're burning them."
Dalian jolted, nearly dropping the spatula. She spun around to find Aunt Beatrice standing behind her, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"I am not," Dalian grumbled, though she quickly turned back to the pan, nudging the eggs before they could betray her.
Aunt Beatrice chuckled, moving past her to check the bread warming in the oven. "You and Diane are going to be late at this rate."
Dalian groaned. "She's probably still fixing her uniform for the hundredth time."
As if on cue, Diane's voice carried from the hallway. "I heard that."
Aunt Beatrice shook her head with a small smile, adjusting the baby in her arms as she settled into a chair. "You two never change."
With breakfast finally prepared, the sisters sat at the table, eating in quick bites between hurried glances at the clock. Aunt Beatrice watched them fondly, rocking the baby in her arms.
Diane wiped her mouth with a napkin, her movements as composed as ever. "We should get going."
Dalian shoved the last piece of toast into her mouth, nodding as she grabbed her bag.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth from the previous night's rain. Their shoes clicked against the pavement as they approached the bus stop, the streets already buzzing with life—shopkeepers pulling up shutters, schoolchildren rushing past, the occasional cyclist weaving through traffic.
Waiting by the stop, Lydia leaned against the pole, her arms folded, her usual mischievous grin in place the moment she spotted them.
"Took you both long enough," she teased.
Dalian rolled her eyes. "Blame the eggs."
Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Burnt them again?"
A huff. "Almost."
Diane sighed, rubbing her temples. "Can we just get on the bus?"
Right on cue, the vehicle screeched to a stop, doors creaking open. The three of them stepped in, weaving through the crowd until they found seats near the middle. The bus jolted forward, the rhythmic hum of the engine filling the gaps between their conversation.
Lydia nudged Dalian. "So, any plans for today?"
Dalian shrugged, leaning her head against the window. "Survive?"
Lydia snorted. "That's a solid goal."
Diane, seated beside them, remained quiet, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere. But every now and then, she glanced at Dalian—watching, protective, yet distant.
As the bus rolled toward the school, the morning stretched ahead, promising another day of lessons, surprises, and the unknown waiting just around the corner.
The school hallways buzzed with the usual morning energy—students chatting, lockers slamming shut, and the faint rustle of pages flipping as some hurriedly reviewed their notes. The crisp scent of chalk and ink lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of coffee from teachers who needed an extra push to start the day.
Diane, Dalian, and Lydia made their way to their homeroom, weaving through clusters of students standing around in conversation. Dalian adjusted the strap of her bag, glancing at Lydia, who had been unusually quiet since they got off the bus.
"You're not plotting something, are you?" Dalian asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.
Lydia smirked. "Me? Never."
Diane sighed, pushing the classroom door open. "Let's just get through today without any distractions."
The classroom hummed with soft chatter as students settled into their seats, the morning air still carrying a lingering chill. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting golden streaks across the polished desks. Diane, Dalian, and Lydia took their usual spots near the middle, bags placed neatly beside their chairs.
Mr. Collins entered with his usual composed demeanor, carrying a stack of papers under one arm and a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand. His sharp gaze swept across the room, and just like that, the casual murmurs faded.
"Good morning, class."
A few mumbled responses followed.
He set his materials on the desk and adjusted his glasses. "Let's get started. Open your books to chapter six. We're diving into the principles of supply and demand today."
Pages flipped as students followed his instruction.
Diane, already prepared, had her notebook open, pen poised and ready. Dalian, though not as quick, fumbled a little before flipping to the right section. Lydia, as usual, leaned back in her chair, one hand lazily twirling her pen.
Mr. Collins wasted no time. "Supply and demand form the backbone of any economy. Who can tell me why?"
A few hands shot up.
Diane, unsurprisingly, was one of them. Mr. Collins gave her a nod.
"Because it dictates the price and availability of goods and services," she answered confidently.
"Correct," Mr. Collins acknowledged. "If demand is high and supply is low, what happens?"
"The price increases," another student chimed in.
"Exactly." He paced slightly in front of the desk. "But what happens when supply exceeds demand?"
This time, there was a pause before someone answered.
"The price drops?"
"Right again," he said. "Which is why businesses must constantly adjust their strategies. It's not just about selling a product—it's about understanding when and how much to sell."
Dalian jotted down notes, though her gaze occasionally flickered elsewhere. Across the room, Jack sat with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He wasn't taking notes. In fact, he barely looked like he was paying attention at all.
Lydia nudged Dalian with her elbow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Try not to stare too hard."
Dalian stiffened. "I wasn't staring."
"You so were," Lydia whispered back.
Mr. Collins, oblivious to their quiet exchange, continued. "Now, let's apply this to a real-world example. Think about a popular brand—something you'd rush to buy if it was suddenly available in limited stock."
Murmurs spread across the classroom.
"A new phone model?" one student offered.
"A trending fashion item?" another suggested.
"Good," Mr. Collins said. "Now, imagine that same product being mass-produced with no limit. What happens?"
"The hype dies down," someone answered.
"Bingo," he nodded. "Scarcity creates demand. Abundance lowers value."
Diane remained focused, absorbing every word. But Dalian found herself half-listening, her thoughts tugging elsewhere.
Lydia caught it instantly. She leaned in again. "Still not staring?"
Dalian scowled, gripping her pen. "Focus on the class."
Lydia chuckled but relented.
Mr. Collins glanced at the clock. "Alright, before we wrap up, let's have a brief discussion. Why do some products remain in demand despite having no shortage?"
A few students hesitated, thinking.
Diane, of course, had an answer. "Because the product isn't just about availability—it's about perception. Some brands maintain demand by keeping their image exclusive, even if they have plenty of stock."
Mr. Collins gave an approving nod. "Well put. Demand isn't always about numbers; sometimes, it's psychological."
With that, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Students began packing up, stretching as they prepared for the next class.
Dalian sighed, glad to be done with the lecture. But just as she stood up, Lydia leaned over with a teasing whisper.
"You know, Jack didn't take a single note."
Dalian stiffened, unsure why that information made her heart beat just a little faster.
As the bell finished ringing, students shuffled in their seats, stretching their legs or leaning over to chat with their seatmates. The energy in the room shifted—no longer under Mr. Collins' sharp focus, conversations bubbled up freely.
Diane tucked her pen into her notebook, flipping it closed with precision. "That was a pretty straightforward lecture," she remarked, glancing at Dalian. "Did you get all the notes?"
Dalian, who had been lost in thought, quickly nodded. "Uh, yeah. Mostly."
Lydia snorted. "Mostly? You spent half the class staring at the back of someone's head."
Dalian shot her a glare. "I was not staring."
Lydia grinned, clearly enjoying this too much. "Mmhmm, sure. You just happened to be looking in his direction the whole time."
Diane frowned slightly, following their exchange. "Who are you talking about?"
Lydia smirked but didn't answer. Instead, she propped her elbow on the desk and turned to Dalian. "Anyway, what do you think? Jack's whole cool and detached thing—genuine or just an act?"
Dalian hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her notebook. "I don't know. He doesn't really seem interested in much. But…" She trailed off, suddenly regretting saying anything.
Lydia leaned in. "But what?"
Dalian sighed. "But he's… not exactly rude, either. Just distant."
Lydia hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe he's just bad at showing interest."
Diane, still listening, finally spoke up. "Jack doesn't seem like the type to be involved in anything unless he wants to be. If he's distant, it's because he chooses to be."
Lydia wiggled her brows. "Or maybe he just needs the right person to break through that cool exterior."
Dalian groaned, shoving Lydia's arm. "You watch too many romance dramas."
Lydia only laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe. But I'm also rarely wrong."
Diane shook her head, uninterested in Lydia's playful matchmaking. She turned her attention to the clock. "We have a few minutes before the next class starts. Should we review the last lesson?"
Lydia groaned. "Or… we could not?"
Dalian chuckled, grateful for the shift in conversation. She reached for her book. "I wouldn't mind a quick review."
As they opened their notebooks, the classroom door creaked open again. The next teacher had arrived.
The next class moved at a steady pace, the teacher diving straight into the lesson. Diane focused intently, jotting down notes with precision, while Lydia alternated between half-listening and doodling absentmindedly in her notebook. Dalian paid attention—mostly—but every now and then, her thoughts drifted.
By the time the bell rang, signaling lunch, students wasted no time gathering their things. The trio moved through the bustling hallways toward the cafeteria, the scent of food growing stronger with every step.
Inside, the cafeteria buzzed with life—students lining up at the counters, the chatter of conversations blending with the clatter of trays and chairs scraping against the floor.
Dalian separated from the others to grab her food, weaving through the crowd. As she reached the line, a familiar voice beside her made her heart stumble.
"What do you want to eat?"
Dalian turned to see Jack standing there, tray in hand, his tone casual, but the directness of his question caught her off guard.
Her brain scrambled for a response. "Uh—" She glanced at the menu, as if she hadn't already memorized what she wanted. "Maybe the pasta."
Jack gave a slight nod. "Good choice." Without another word, he stepped forward, ordering for both of them before she could even react.
Her stomach flipped. Not from hunger, but from the quiet ease with which he did it—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Moments later, trays in hand, they walked toward the seating area.
At their usual table, Lydia had been watching the entire interaction unfold. The moment Dalian sat down, Lydia leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Sooo," she dragged the word out, resting her chin in her palm. "Should I start planning the wedding now, or later?"
Dalian nearly choked on her drink. "Lydia!"
Lydia grinned, kicking her foot under the table. "What? I'm just saying—he ordered for you. That's, like, a thing."
Dalian groaned, face warm as she focused on her plate, ignoring Lydia's teasing gaze.
Diane, sitting across from them, simply sighed. "Lydia, can we not?"
Lydia smirked but let it go—for now.
Dalian, however, couldn't stop the tiny smile tugging at her lips.
Maybe—just maybe—Lydia wasn't entirely wrong.
Dalian focused on her plate, but she could feel Lydia's eyes still on her, practically buzzing with excitement.
"I mean, think about it," Lydia continued, stabbing her fork into her salad dramatically. "A guy orders your food without asking? That's gotta mean something. Like, subconsciously, he's already taking care of you."
Dalian rolled her eyes, shoving a bite of pasta into her mouth to avoid answering.
Jack, who had been eating quietly beside them, finally spoke up. "Or maybe I just thought it'd be faster than waiting for her to decide." His tone was casual, but there was the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
Lydia gasped, clutching her chest in mock betrayal. "You wound me, Jack. Here I was, weaving a romantic narrative, and you just—shatter it."
Jack barely spared her a glance. "You'll live."
Dalian nearly choked on her food. She wasn't sure what was funnier—Lydia's exaggerated disappointment or the fact that Jack had actually responded to her antics.
Diane, ever the practical one, shook her head. "Lydia, stop tormenting them."
Lydia sighed dramatically, but the mischievous glint in her eye didn't fade. "Fine, fine. I'll behave. For now."
Dalian exhaled, relieved the attention was shifting away from her. But that relief was short-lived when Jack, out of nowhere, placed his fork down and turned to her.
"You like it?"
She blinked, startled. "Huh?"
Jack nodded toward her plate. "The pasta."
"Oh—uh, yeah." She swallowed, trying to push down the sudden nerves. "It's good."
His gaze lingered for a moment before he nodded, returning to his food.
Dalian, however, sat frozen for a beat longer, her heart betraying her by skipping a little.
It was just a simple question. Nothing special. But coming from Jack, who wasn't the type to engage in unnecessary conversation, it felt… different.
And Lydia, sharp as ever, definitely noticed.
She smirked but didn't say anything this time.
Instead, she simply nudged Dalian's foot under the table, her expression screaming: See? Told you.
Dalian bit the inside of her cheek, focusing on her food, but her mind refused to quiet down.
Maybe Lydia was onto something.
Maybe Jack wasn't completely indifferent after all.
After lunch, the group made their way outside, where students lingered beneath the shade of trees, some chatting while others scrolled through their phones. The crisp afternoon air carried the distant sounds of laughter and the occasional footsteps against the pavement.
Dalian walked beside Lydia, still hyper-aware of Jack's presence just a few steps behind them. Diane had already pulled ahead, deep in conversation with Anna about something school-related, leaving the rest of them to their own pace.
Lydia stretched her arms above her head, sighing contently. "Man, I wish we could just stay out here and skip the next class."
Jack, hands shoved into his pockets, arched a brow. "It's just literature."
Lydia gasped, spinning on her heel to walk backward and face him. "Just literature? Are you even human? That class drags."
Jack shrugged. "Depends on the book."
Lydia scoffed. "You read?"
Dalian stifled a laugh at Lydia's sheer disbelief, while Jack remained completely unfazed. "Yeah."
Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, as if she didn't quite believe it. "Hmm… fine. Favorite book?"
Jack didn't answer immediately, as if debating whether to humor her. Then, finally, he said, "The Count of Monte Cristo."
Lydia blinked. "That… is actually cool."
Dalian, listening quietly, found herself intrigued. She hadn't expected that from Jack.
"You?" he asked suddenly, his gaze flicking toward her.
Dalian hesitated, caught off guard. "Me?"
Jack nodded, waiting.
Lydia grinned, nudging her. "Go on, Dalian. Enlighten us."
Dalian shot her a look but answered nonetheless. "Uh… Little Women."
Jack tilted his head slightly, considering. "Good book."
The simple acknowledgment made Dalian's stomach do something weird, and she quickly looked away. Lydia, of course, noticed everything but, for once, didn't comment.
Instead, she smirked and linked arms with Dalian. "Alright, book nerds, let's get moving before Diane sends a search party."
Jack didn't argue, and they all continued toward the next building, the easy conversation lingering in the air.
As they reached the classroom door, Dalian stole a quick glance at Jack—just to see if he was looking back.
He wasn't.
But the fact that she wished he was?
That was the real problem.
The classroom hummed with low chatter as students settled into their seats, the late-afternoon sun filtering through the windows, casting a golden glow on the desks. Dalian slid into her usual spot beside Lydia, who immediately leaned in with a smirk.
"So, someone has a favorite book," she teased in a whisper.
Dalian rolled her eyes, pulling out her literature textbook. "Drop it."
Before Lydia could push further, Mr. Collins strode into the room, adjusting his glasses as he set down his notes.
"Alright, let's get started," he announced, his voice cutting through the lingering murmurs. "Today, we're continuing our discussion on classic literature and the depth of character motivations. Open your books to page 143."
Chairs scraped against the floor as students obeyed, the rustling of pages filling the air. Dalian found her place in the text, but as she read, her attention flickered sideways—toward Jack.
She wasn't expecting to find him already looking at her.
Her heart skipped.
He didn't immediately look away either. Instead, he leaned slightly toward her desk, voice low enough that only she could hear.
"You really like Little Women?"
Dalian blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to remember their conversation from earlier. "Uh… yeah. Why?"
Jack shrugged, tapping his pen absently against his notebook. "It's interesting." A small pause, then, "You remind me of Jo."
Dalian's breath hitched slightly. Jo March—bold, passionate, a dreamer. It was an unexpected comparison. One that made something warm stir in her chest.
Lydia, sitting on her other side, definitely noticed and subtly nudged her under the desk.
Dalian barely registered it. She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. "And who do you see yourself as?"
Jack smirked, but before he could answer, Mr. Collins spoke.
"Jack, care to read the next passage aloud?"
Jack exhaled, straightening. "Sure."
As he began reading, Dalian found herself caught in his voice. It was smoother than she expected—steady, confident. The way he read the words gave them weight, making the characters feel more alive.
She knew it was just a simple literature lesson.
But somehow, sitting there, listening to him, feeling the warmth of his gaze linger on her between sentences—
Her heart didn't seem to know the difference.
The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Students poured into the hallways, voices blending into a chaotic mix of chatter and laughter.
Dalian adjusted her bag over her shoulder as she walked alongside Lydia, weaving through the crowd. Diane was a few steps ahead, focused on something on her phone, while Anna lingered near the entrance, waiting for her driver.
Just as they stepped outside, Dalian felt a presence beside her.
Jack.
She tensed slightly, not expecting him to be walking in the same direction. He glanced at her, then nodded. "Heading home?"
Dalian blinked, her mind scrambling for a normal response. "Uh… yeah."
Lydia, ever the instigator, shot her a knowing look before suddenly turning toward Diane. "Hey, I need to ask you something—come with me for a sec."
Diane frowned. "Huh? What is it?"
"Just come," Lydia insisted, dragging Diane ahead, leaving Dalian alone with Jack.
Dalian felt the silence settle between them as they walked, the cool afternoon breeze brushing against her skin. She wasn't sure what to say, or if she even needed to say anything at all.
Jack was the one to break it.
"You're quiet," he noted.
Dalian gave a small shrug. "I usually am."
Jack chuckled. "Fair."
They continued down the road, their pace slow, unhurried. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange hue over the houses and trees lining the street.
Jack glanced at her again. "So… what did you think of today's lesson?"
Dalian hesitated, not because she didn't have an answer, but because she wasn't expecting him to ask. It was such a simple question, yet coming from him, it felt… different.
"I liked it," she admitted. "I mean, I always enjoy literature class."
Jack smirked. "Yeah, I could tell."
Dalian frowned slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged. "You get this look when you're into something—like you forget everything else around you."
Dalian blinked, caught off guard. She wasn't sure if she should feel embarrassed or flattered.
"…That's not a bad thing, right?" she asked cautiously.
Jack's smirk softened into something more sincere. "No. It's a good thing."
Her heart did that annoying flutter again.
Before she could dwell on it, they reached the turn leading to her street. Up ahead, she spotted Aunt Beatrice's house, warm lights glowing from the windows.
Jack stopped walking. "Well, this is where I leave you."
Dalian nodded, gripping the strap of her bag. "Yeah… thanks for walking with me."
Jack gave a small nod in return, then turned to leave.
But just before he did, he glanced over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Jo."
Dalian froze.
And by the time she processed the teasing nickname, he was already walking away.
She stood there for a moment, watching his retreating figure, before exhaling sharply and heading inside.
Lydia was definitely going to have a field day with this.