Red String

Chapter 5 - Misunderstandings

Rose bit her lip. Calm... but not particularly warm. Neutral, as always. Maybe he's annoyed with me, she thought fleetingly, though she couldn't see any actual sign of irritation.

Evan, who had been observing from a few desks away, leaned in slightly. "Relax, Rose. He's just practical. That's all," he whispered.

Rose nodded slowly, letting the reassurance sink in, but Kevin's teasing echoed in her mind. She tried to focus on the outline, arranging the slides in a way that would flow smoothly for their presentation. She typed and retyped a few sentences, debating whether her points were clear enough, when she felt a quiet nudge in her awareness.

Clei was watching her—not in a critical way, but observant, almost like he was noting her focus, the subtle furrow of her brows, and the rhythm of her typing. He didn't offer commentary, just allowed her actions to register, a quiet witness to her persistence.

He's not judging me. He's... noticing, maybe, she thought, smiling faintly to herself.

By mid-morning, the project work continued, with Rose occasionally asking questions about formatting or phrasing. Clei's responses were always measured, deliberate, and free of unnecessary embellishment. He offered guidance when necessary, never more than needed, and always in a calm, practical tone.

"You should move this bullet point," he said once, pointing at her slide. "It fits better under the third section."

Rose blinked, surprised at how smoothly he integrated himself into the work without breaking his composed demeanor. "Oh... right. Thanks," she said softly.

He nodded once, returning his attention to his notes. There was no teasing, no grumbling, no hint of frustration—just precise observation and quiet efficiency.

Evan, watching from a corner of the table, whispered with an impressed tone, "See? He notices you, but not like... you know. He's just aware. It's different from what you might expect."

Rose smiled faintly. It was subtle, but meaningful. She didn't need grand gestures—just this calm acknowledgment felt like progress.

After classes, Rose lingered in the library to finalize some parts of the slides. She struggled with formatting, her fingers fumbling over shortcuts and alignment tools. Frustrated, she muttered under her breath, "Why won't this cooperate?"

Clei, passing by with his bag slung over one shoulder, paused, glancing at her screen. "Use this shortcut. It's faster than manually adjusting each element," he said calmly.

Rose blinked, startled. "Oh... thanks."

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, then continued toward the exit. His presence had been unobtrusive, quiet, yet attentive enough that she felt supported without feeling pressured.

He's helping... quietly, without fuss. That's... considerate, she thought, smiling to herself.

Kevin appeared again as she packed her things, smirking. "Still working with Mr. Calm-and-Collected? Be careful, Rose. You might start thinking he actually likes you."

Rose frowned, annoyed. "Kevin, you're impossible."

Clei's eyes flicked toward Kevin briefly. "Does it matter?" he asked softly, voice neutral. Kevin blinked, surprised at the lack of reaction, then shrugged and walked away.

Rose noticed the subtle way Clei had defended her—not with words, not with emotion, but simply with calm presence. That small gesture made her chest feel lighter, as if she had understood something she couldn't yet articulate.

Outside, the afternoon sun had begun its descent, painting the school courtyard in warm hues. Students spilled into the open air, some rushing to catch buses, others lingering with friends. Rose waved goodbye to Mica and Janna, still smiling from the day's interactions, and made her way toward the gate.

Clei walked a few meters ahead, Evan trailing casually behind. His posture was relaxed, but his steps were deliberate, steady. He wasn't rushing; he didn't need to. The world moved around him, but his attention carried its own rhythm, aware of the subtle details without being pulled into distractions.

As he walked, his mind wandered in quiet reflection. The day had been ordinary—classes, project work, the library, badminton practice—but Rose's presence had lingered in his awareness more than he expected. Not in an emotional or dramatic way, just noticeable.

Persistent, focused, careful... she moves through things naturally. I noticed it. That's all, he thought.

He remembered moments from the day—the slight hesitation as she asked if the outline was okay, her concentration while arranging the slides, the brief glance she gave when he suggested the shortcut. Each was small, but each was registered, acknowledged in his calm, internal way.

Tomorrow... project first, focus first. Efficiency first. Observe if necessary. Nothing more, he reminded himself.

Even as he kept to his self-imposed routine, he couldn't fully dismiss the subtle impression Rose left. She had a way of filling her space without demanding it, of moving through the day with attention and curiosity that lingered at the edge of his awareness.

Step by step, he walked through the quiet streets near his neighborhood. Shadows lengthened as the sun dipped lower, and the soft hum of the evening settled around him. His thoughts were methodical, reflective, and calm, yet intertwined with the quiet acknowledgment of the day's interactions.

She's... memorable. Not overwhelming. Just... present, he noted silently.

Clei adjusted the strap of his bag, keeping his pace steady. There was no rush, no urgency, no dramatics—just the quiet rhythm of his steps and the calm awareness of the world around him. And in that quiet awareness, he carried the day, and with it, the subtle presence of someone who had caught his attention without breaking his composure.