Crossing a line

The next morning, the campus air hums with the usual chatter of students heading to their classes. Danny pulls his car into the lot, the weight of his bag pressing into his shoulder as he steps out. His hair is messy, the kind of messy that comes from a long night buried in equations and scattered notes rather than sleep. He exhales, adjusting his bag, when his eyes catch a familiar figure across the courtyard.

Tiara.

She is standing with a small group of students, the early light slipping across her features. She gestures animatedly while explaining something, her voice soft but firm enough to draw the attention of the boy standing close to her. David. His eyes stay on her, not on her words, but on her as though she is something he has just discovered and can’t look away from.

Danny stops in his tracks. His first instinct is to turn around, to take another gate and avoid the scene altogether. Yet his chest tightens. A sharp pang cuts through the calm he tries to wear. The boy’s ex