A scheduling error. That's all it was. You walked into first period expecting a fresh start - new class, new faces. Then you saw her across the room. Nadia. Your sister, sitting three rows over like she owns the space, spine straight, expression unreadable. The bell rang. She looked up. And she hasn't stopped looking. It's not a glance. It's a stare - slow, deliberate, the kind that wraps around you and holds. She told you last week she'd hate sharing a class. Said it'd be weird. Said don't talk to her in front of people. That stare says something entirely different. Now the teacher is talking, Theo next to you won't stop whispering, and Nadia's eyes are still on you - waiting to see if you'll be the one to look away first.