Four

The sun was low in the sky when Hazel stepped out of the classroom. The air carried that heavy smell of dust and chalk, the kind that always clung to her uniform after a long last day of school. Students spilled into the hallway, their laughter and shouts echoing, mixing with the squeak of shoes and the banging of lockers. Hazel hugged her books to her chest, waiting for the rush to thin before walking home.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, and when she turned, Charles was standing there, his usual crooked smile tugging at his lips. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it all day, and his tie was loose. He always looked half put-together, like he belonged to another world where people didn’t care about rules.

“You waited?” Hazel asked, tilting her head.

Charles shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like walking the same direction as you.”

She tried not to smile, but she failed. “You could’ve just said yes.”

He grinned wider. “Yes.”

The walk home was something Hazel had grown to love. At first, she thought it would be awkward,her and Charles, side by side, their footsteps brushing on the cracked road. But it wasn’t. He always found something to talk about: a silly joke about the teachers, a comment about the neighbor’s broken bicycle, or the way Daniel was his idol, always put together and loved his family.

Today, though, he was quieter.

Hazel noticed. “You’re thinking too much.”

“Am I?” He glanced at her.

“You always make that face when you’re worried,” she said. “Like you just lost a math test.”

Charles chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “I was just… thinking about the future.”

Hazel tightened her grip on her books. “What about it?”

“I done with school now,” he said slowly. “And maybe… maybe I won’t stay here, mom signed me up for scholarship.”

Hazel’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know why the thought of him leaving felt like a shadow falling over her. “Scholarship? Abroad?”

“Maybe I’m lucky.” He kicked a small stone on the road, sending it skipping forward. “But it’s not just about me. My mom’s been working so hard. I don’t want to waste the chance.”

Hazel swallowed. She understood. Charles’s mom worked long shifts at the hospital, and she always looked tired. This scholarship would change everything for them. But the thought of Charles not being here, of walking home alone, of not hearing his jokes,burned in her chest.

She tried to sound light. “So you’ll just forget about me, huh? Go off and live like one of those movie stars in another country.”

Charles stopped walking. She took a few more steps before realizing, then turned back. His expression was sharp, like he couldn’t believe she’d said that.

“Hazel,” he said, his voice firmer than she’d ever heard it. “I could never forget you.”

The world seemed to still around them. The street was quiet, the sounds of other students fading in the distance. Hazel felt her cheeks grow hot. She wanted to look away, but his eyes pinned her in place.

“I mean it,” Charles said, stepping closer. “I don’t care if I go far. You’re… you’re my person.”

Hazel’s chest swelled with something she didn’t know how to name. Warm and terrifying all at once.

She laughed nervously. “You sound so serious.”

“Because I am.” He shifted the hair falling on his eyes, then reached for her hand. His fingers were warm, a little rough from playing ball, but steady. Hazel froze, then let him hold it.

“You can laugh,” Charles said quietly. “But promise me something. Promise me you’ll wait for me. No matter what happens, no matter who tries to come between us. Just wait.”

Hazel’s heart hammered. A thousand worries pressed on her, her family, their poverty, the secrets she sometimes felt hanging in the air when her parents whispered at night. But in this moment, none of it mattered.

She squeezed his hand. “I promise.”

Charles smiled then, and it was so bright that it chased away every fear.

That evening, Hazel sat on the small porch of the Jacksons’ bungalow. The wood creaked under her as she leaned back, hugging her knees. Marie was cooking inside, the smell of stew drifting out.

Hazel stared at the stars slowly appearing above the rooftops. Somewhere out there, her future stretched, dark and uncertain. But she thought about Charles’s hand in hers, his serious eyes, his promise. She touched her fingers to her chest, right where her heart beat wildly.

“Promise,” she whispered again, as if repeating it could make it real.

The next day, Hazel woke to shouting. Her father, Jackson, was arguing with someone outside. Hazel rushed out of her room, her bare feet slapping the cool floor, and hurried to the front door.

A man in a suit stood by the gate, holding papers. He looked out of place in their rundown neighborhood.

“You can’t just come here asking questions!” Jackson barked. His hands were clenched, his broad shoulders stiff.

The man didn’t flinch. “We’re simply gathering information. A child fitting Hazel’s description was reported missing years ago. We believe she may be…”

“Stop!” Jackson cut him off. His voice shook, but not with fear but with anger. “Hazel is my daughter. My wife and I raised her. No one is taking her from us.”

Hazel’s blood ran cold. Missing child? What were they talking about?

Marie rushed out, she walked closer to Hazel and held Hazel's shoulder. She looked terrified, her face pale.

“Please,” Marie said, softer than Jackson. “Just… leave us alone.”

The man glanced toward Hazel’s doorway. For a moment, his eyes locked with hers, and she quickly ducked away. Her heart pounded.

When she looked again, the man was leaving, sliding into a black car that sped down the dusty road.

Hazel stepped closer. “Dad, who was that? What did he mean?”

Jackson’s face was stormy. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“But he said…”

“I said nothing!” His voice cracked like a whip. Hazel flinched. Jackson had never shouted at her like that before.

Marie touched his arm gently, trying to calm him. Then she looked at Hazel, her eyes full of worry. “Go inside, sweetheart. Please.”

Hazel obeyed, but inside her, questions burned.

That night, Hazel couldn’t sleep. The shadows on the ceiling seemed to whisper. Missing child. Papers. Questions.

She thought about Charles’s promise. Wait for me.

But what if her world was about to break apart?

She turned on her side, clutching the small notebook where she scribbled secrets and dreams. She wrote one sentence, her hand shaking:

If they try to take me away, I’ll hold onto Charles. I’ll hold onto him no matter what.

Then she closed the book and hugged it to her chest, as if it could protect her from the storm she didn’t understand yet.