The old garden behind the school had long been forgotten. Once, it was a place for science projects and botany lessons, but now weeds crept through the cracked stone path, and the fountain in the center stood dry.
Sara often came here when she needed silence. No one else bothered with the place. It was her refuge — a small pocket of peace in a world spinning out of control.
Today, however, she wasn't alone.
Daniel stood by the fountain, his hands tucked into his pockets, gazing at the sky as though he had been waiting for something… or someone.
Sara froze at the entrance, torn between retreating and stepping forward. Before she could decide, Daniel's voice drifted across the quiet air.
"You come here often."
Her breath caught. "How did you know?"
He turned his head slightly, his expression calm. "You disappear during breaks. I notice."
Something in his tone made her pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, walking closer until the weeds brushed against her shoes. "I didn't think anyone paid attention."
"I do."
The simple reply left her strangely unsteady.
For a while, neither spoke. Sara perched on the edge of the fountain, tracing the cracks with her fingers. Daniel stood nearby, the silence between them not heavy, but… steady.
Finally, Sara whispered, "Do you ever feel like your life isn't your own? Like everyone else is deciding for you?"
Daniel's gaze sharpened slightly, but his voice remained even. "All the time."
Sara blinked. "You too?"
He gave a faint nod. "Being a Li means expectations. Choices aren't really choices — they're obligations dressed in fancy words. Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever asks what I want."
Sara's chest tightened. It was the first time she'd heard him speak so personally.
"What do you want?" she asked softly.
Daniel looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might actually answer. But instead, he turned his gaze back to the sky. "It doesn't matter. Wanting and having are rarely the same."
Sara lowered her eyes. "I know that too well."
The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the scent of earth and forgotten flowers. Sara felt her guard slipping, the words spilling before she could stop them.
"My father… he doesn't see me anymore. Not really. To him, I'm just—" She stopped, biting her lip. "It doesn't matter."
Daniel studied her, his silence like a mirror that reflected everything she was trying to hide.
"You're not nothing," he said quietly.
Her head snapped up. "What?"
His gaze didn't waver. "People like Emily, your stepmother… even your father. They may treat you like you're invisible. But that doesn't mean you are. You're more than they see."
The words landed deep, breaking through the cracks left by her father's indifference.
For a heartbeat, Sara couldn't breathe. No one had ever said something like that to her.
She looked away quickly, afraid he'd see too much in her eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"
Daniel's lips curved in the faintest shadow of a smile. "Because it's true."
Silence followed again, but it wasn't the kind that hurt. It wrapped around them like a fragile shield, protecting a moment that belonged only to them.
Sara stood finally, brushing off her skirt. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible.
Daniel didn't answer, but as she turned to leave, she felt his gaze on her back — steady, unwavering.
And for the first time in days, she carried a sliver of warmth with her.
That night, lying awake in her room, Sara replayed his words. You're not nothing.
They clung to her heart, lighting a spark in the darkness.
She didn't know what the future held, or how long she could fight against the storm closing in.
But maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she thought.