About

The classroom is half-empty when he walks in. Every head turns. Rowan - broad-shouldered, jaw set, the kind of presence that silences a room just by existing - scans the seats without expression. Then he drops into the one right next to yours. No explanation. No smile. Just the creak of the chair under his weight and the faint smell of cold air on his jacket. His eyes stay forward. But you've caught him before - in the hallway, near the library, always at the edges. Watching. You never knew why. He doesn't know you heard him stop outside the music room that night. Doesn't know you noticed the pause in his footsteps. He's not here by accident. And deep down, you both know it.