Chapter 36

Nani Hirunkit

I keep my hands on the table, fingers toying with the loose thread on my sleeve. The group's conversation moves along, picking up from where it left off before Sky called May over, but it's not the same. The shift is subtle, but it's there. The others tolerate her presence, but they don't welcome it.

Sky, of course, doesn't notice.

Or maybe he does and chooses not to.

He talks to May easily, like the tension at the table isn't there, like he doesn't hear the slight edge in Dew's tone or see the way Aou and Boom barely acknowledge her. Even Joong and Dunk, who usually never hold back, don't say much. Perth and Santa exchange looks every now and then, but they don't comment. Win doesn't even try to pretend—his face is unreadable, but the way he leans back in his chair, eyes flickering between Sky and May, says enough.

I should focus on that. I should focus on them.

But I don't.

Instead, my eyes flicker to Sky—just for a second.

His expression is lighter than it has been in weeks. The way he talks, the way he smiles—it's effortless. The tiredness that had settled in his features lately, the weight he carried, it's not there.

And then he laughs.

A real laugh.

Not the half-hearted ones I've been hearing from him lately. Not the ones that always sounded just a little too forced.

I barely notice how tight my fingers curl around the thread.

It's not like I want him to be miserable. I don't. I never have. I want him to be happy. I do. But it's hard not to notice how much she brings back something in him that I never could.

I swallow against the feeling crawling up my throat, blinking quickly. My smile stays in place, just enough to pass as normal, just enough that no one will question it. It's what I do best, after all.

Pretend.

I tune in to the conversation again, forcing myself to focus. Joong and Dunk are still arguing over Mario Kart, their voices overlapping. Aou and Boom chime in every now and then, making fun of them both.

It should feel the same as always.

It doesn't.

Because despite the chatter, despite the noise, my attention keeps drifting back to Sky and May. The way she leans in slightly when he speaks, the way he meets her eyes like there's nothing else in the room. The way his smile comes so easily around her, like she's the answer he didn't even know he was looking for.

I press my fingers against my palm under the table, grounding myself. I focus on the cool surface of the table beneath my hand, the way it feels against my skin.

I can't do this.

Not here.

Not now.

So, I do what I always do.

I take a breath. I adjust the way I'm sitting, shifting just enough to make it seem like I'm getting comfortable rather than restless. I glance at Win, throwing in a comment about something he said earlier, steering the conversation back into familiar territory.

It works.

The conversation moves again, the others falling back into their usual rhythm.

And I pretend.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Like always.

-----------------

The cafeteria is still buzzing with its usual noise when Nuch walks over to our table. He's a senior, always carrying himself with a certain confidence that makes him stand out, even in a crowd like this. His uniform's slightly disheveled, the tie hanging loosely around his neck, and his ever-present grin gives him a laid-back vibe that doesn't quite match the way the other seniors carry themselves.

I catch his eye as he approaches, his stride casual but purposeful, and I can't help but brace for whatever it is he's going to say. Nuch has a way of getting straight to the point without making it obvious he's being serious. He stands there for a second, like he's scanning the table, before his eyes lock on me.

"Nani," he says, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Professor Prakit wants to see you."

I freeze for a moment. The mention of Professor Prakit's name is enough to pull me out of my haze. There's a slight chill in my stomach, the kind that hits when you know something's coming your way, but you're not sure what. I glance around the table, and suddenly everything feels more distant, more muted. None of it feels real right now. My attention is entirely on Nuch.

"Professor Prakit?" I repeat, trying to make sense of it. The way he said it, the urgency in his tone—it doesn't feel like a simple 'go ask about your grades' thing. "What does he want?"

Nuch shrugs, not the least bit bothered. "He didn't say much, just that it's important and you need to meet him. Sounds school-related, but... I don't know, man. He's waiting for you in his office."

Something about the whole situation doesn't sit right. I feel a sudden pressure building in my chest, like the calm before a storm. My mouth goes dry, and I try to mask the unease with a nonchalant look. "You sure? You're not messing with me, right?"

Nuch raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the question. "I don't mess with you. I'm just telling you what he said." He leans against the table, still grinning. "I'd go now if I were you. Don't keep him waiting."

I feel the weight of his words as I stand up, not quite ready to leave but knowing there's no way out of this.

"Thanks for the heads-up," I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Anytime," Nuch says with a playful pat on my back. "You don't want to piss him off, though. Trust me, you're better off going sooner rather than later."

I nod absently, not feeling any better but knowing I can't stall any longer. I make my way to the door, the noise from the cafeteria still echoing in my ears, but it feels like I'm in a bubble. The world around me slows, and all I can focus on is the knot in my stomach. Nuch's words keep replaying in my mind. Important? Urgent? Why?

The walk to Professor Prakit's office feels longer than usual, each step heavy with the sense that I'm walking toward something I can't control. When I reach his office door, I stop for a second, my hand hovering over the doorknob. There's a strange hesitation in the pit of my stomach, but I push it down and open the door.

Inside, the atmosphere is different—stiff and expectant. Professor Prakit is sitting behind his desk, a mountain of papers in front of him. The moment he sees me, he doesn't bother with pleasantries. He just looks at me, his expression unreadable.

"Nani," he says, his voice cold, "sit down."

I take a seat, the weight of his gaze making my nerves spike again. This doesn't feel like a simple chat. The papers scattered on his desk, the way he doesn't even try to mask the tension in the air—this is serious.

I swallow, trying to steady myself, but all I can think about is why he wanted to see me, and why he sounded so... urgent.