Irene lingered near the entrance of Crestwood Heights, her gaze fixed on the courtyard where Jericho was talking to the new girl. Airam Solace. Even her name sounded out of place here, like she belonged in some daydream, not pacing around Crestwood’s stone paths, wide-eyed and unsteady.

Jericho leaned casually against a lamppost, his posture relaxed, his face open in a way Irene hadn’t seen in a while. And Airam… She was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and hesitation like she was slowly being drawn into his orbit without even realizing it...

Irene’s lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn’t used to feeling this… annoyed, and certainly not over something as trivial as Jericho chatting with a girl. But the way he laughed, easy and unguarded, as if he’d already decided to take Airam under his wing, twisted something deep in her chest. So predictable, she thought, watching them with a practiced indifference she didn’t quite feel.

Doesn’t he realize what he’s doing? She folded her arms, leaning against the rough stone wall, her expression unreadable as she took in the scene. Airam, all awkward and bright, seemed captivated, her laughter drifting on the breeze. She clearly had no idea what Crestwood could be, no idea that this place wasn’t built for people like her—at least, not unless they learned the rules.

With a final, hard glance, Irene pushed herself off the wall, brushing a stray curl from her face. Let Jericho entertain himself if he wanted, she thought with a quiet scoff. Airam would learn soon enough what it took to survive here—and who to avoid if she was smart.

As she turned to head toward the school, her footsteps muffled by the soft grass, she stole one last look at Airam, a spark of something unnamable flickering in her eyes. There was something about the girl, a strange familiarity that Irene couldn’t quite place. But whatever it was, she was determined to keep her distance. For now.

They walked in silence for a while, shadows stretching across the road as the evening deepened. Irene’s gaze lingered on the pavement, but every so often, she’d cast a sidelong glance at Jericho, her expression cool yet searching.

“You’re cozying up to the new girl,” she finally said, voice quiet, almost a murmur.

Jericho’s lips twisted into a smirk, eyes straight ahead. “You noticed?”

Irene shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “Everyone did. She doesn’t exactly blend in.”

He laughed softly, low and amused. “Neither did you, once upon a time.”

She stopped, forcing him to halt a step ahead. “Maybe,” she said, eyes flickering as she watched his face, “but I never needed anyone’s help fitting in.”

Jericho turned to face her fully, the corner of his mouth curling. “Maybe that’s why she interests me.”

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Her gaze hardened just a little. “You don’t know anything about her.”

“That’s the point,” he replied, his tone smooth, almost challenging. “She’s a mystery. Like you used to be.”

A flicker of something—surprise, annoyance, maybe even jealousy—passed through her expression, but she quickly masked it, pulling her jacket tighter around her. “I’m still a mystery,” she murmured, her words barely audible. “Maybe she’s not one you want to solve.”

Jericho tilted his head, studying her with a faint, unreadable smile. “Why not? Afraid she’ll ruin the fun?”

She rolled her eyes, feigning disinterest. “I just don’t like wasting my time.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping. “Who says it’ll be a waste?”

For a heartbeat, they locked eyes, the familiar push-pull of challenge sparking between them. Finally, she looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear with a smirk.

“Fine,” she said, turning back toward the road, her voice like smoke. “Do what you want. Just don’t cry to me when it all goes sideways.”

Jericho laughed, falling into step beside her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, they continued walking, each step heavy with unspoken thoughts, the tension between them thick and familiar, a dark thread winding tighter as they disappeared into the night.

Jericho was the only person Irene allowed close enough to glimpse beneath her mask; he’d seen her in every vulnerable moment she kept hidden from the rest of the world. He had been her anchor after their father’s death, the one steady point when her emotions turned raw and relentless. They moved in step, a natural rhythm they’d kept since childhood, yet an invisible tension had been simmering lately, a quiet friction she pretended not to notice.

Jericho gave her a sideways glance as if sensing her thoughts. “You don’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length, you know.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not you. I don’t collect strays.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “So that’s what I’m doing? Collecting strays?”

“Tell me you’re not,” she shot back, the faintest smirk playing on her lips. “You’ve got a habit of swooping in to save anyone who looks like they might need it.”

He just laughed softly, and she felt the familiar pang of irritation and something else—an ache she couldn’t name. He was protective of her, more than anyone else. She’d always known that. But lately, it felt different, as if he was slowly pulling away, branching out to other people, other connections. Airam wasn’t the first, but something about her had left Irene on edge, feeling like an intruder in the bond she once thought unbreakable.

“I’m just saying,” Jericho continued, his tone gentler now, “there’s more to life than just... keeping people at bay.”

“Is there?” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, gaze fixed on the shadows ahead. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust his warmth and openness, but the world had never shown her that kindness lasted. Only Jericho had, and if she let anyone else in, she wasn’t sure she could bear the cost.

“Look,” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “you’re not alone, no matter how hard you try to be.” He nudged her shoulder, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’m here. Don’t forget that.”

For a moment, she let her walls drop just a little, letting the warmth of his reassurance reach her. They walked on in silence, side by side, bound by more than blood—a fierce loyalty, a fragile but unyielding connection. And despite the new faces, the widening circles, he was still hers, in the way that mattered.