I was halfway through sketching a modified containment rune—just for fun, obviously, not because I was overachieving—when someone slammed their hand on my desk.
"Alright. What are you planning?"
I didn't have to look up.
The sharpness in her voice. The clipped tone. The unmistakable scent of fire-aspected mana, faint like ozone clinging to the air.
Aris Valen.
The girl Caleb used to orbit like a moth with no survival instinct.
She looked furious. Suspicious. A strand of her hair was out of place. A crime, by noble standards.
"Good morning to you too," I said.
"Don't," she snapped. "Don't act like this is normal."
I blinked slowly. "I am sitting. In a classroom. Drawing. Aris, that is the definition of normal."
She leaned in. Too close. Her eyes locked onto mine like she was trying to read hidden text behind them.
"You've been avoiding me."
"Yes."
"You've stopped showing up outside my training hall."
"Correct."
"You stopped sending letters. And poems. And enchanted—whatever those were."
"Care packages. Yeah. Stopped that too."
She folded her arms.
"I even saw you turn around and leave the dining hall when I sat down."
"Guilty."
Her frown deepened. "So what is it? Some new scheme? Reverse psychology?"
I stared at her for a long moment.
Then sighed.
"You think I'm pretending to not stalk you… as a new way of stalking you?"
She flushed. "You—! No, I—That's not what I meant!"
"Because if so, that's not reverse psychology. That's emotional Inception."
She scowled. "You're not funny."
"I'm hilarious. You're just mad I'm not obsessed with you anymore."
"Excuse me?"
"Do you want me to be obsessed with you?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again like her brain couldn't decide if it should slap me or sue me.
I leaned back.
"You're mad that I stopped bothering you. That's what this is."
"That's not—ugh! It's just weird, alright?"
"Right. Because me finally respecting boundaries is more suspicious than me publicly declaring you were my 'celestial muse of flame and beauty.'"
She grimaced. "Don't remind me of that."
"It was a dark time."
"I still have the letters."
"I'm so sorry."
"Some of them were written in blood!"
"Technically berry juice. Probably."
She stared at me again. And this time… her expression shifted.
Not quite anger. Not confusion either.
Something more cautious. Like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to jump or call for help.
"…What happened to you?"
Now that was the real question.
I could've lied. Could've spun some story about enlightenment or personal growth.
But I didn't.
I looked her in the eyes and said, "I died."
She blinked.
"What?"
I tapped my temple. "The old me. He died. Took all his cringe with him."
"Is this a joke?"
"No."
"Caleb, this isn't funny."
I shrugged. "Never said it was."
She stared at me. Studying. Peering through the cracks like she could peel me open and find the old Caleb curled up inside, clutching his 'Aris Forever' scrapbook.
But I'd burned that scrapbook.
Figuratively. Probably literally.
Eventually, she looked away.
"I just… don't get it."
"You're not supposed to."
"I mean—you were insane. People used to say you'd marry me in your head and throw tantrums when it didn't come true."
"Sounds like a 'them' problem."
She stared.
"…You don't like me anymore?"
I blinked.
The silence that followed felt like someone had cast a mute spell on the entire hallway.
Then I said, "Do you want me to?"
She didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Her face said everything.
She didn't know what she wanted.
And for the first time in her life, she couldn't predict me. Couldn't control the script.
I stood and gathered my sketchbook.
"Aris, I'm not a part of your life. Or anyone else's. Not anymore."
I walked past her.
Then paused.
"You should be glad. The new me? Doesn't put anyone on a pedestal."
She turned.
"Then what do you put people on?"
I smiled.
"Equal footing of course."