Elias liked the quiet of his car in the mornings.
It was the only place where the world hadn't started asking things of him yet.
The engine purred beneath him as the garage door slid upward, letting in a pale wash of early sunlight. His phone buzzed in the cup holder, notifications already stacking themselves like impatient hands raised in a classroom. He didn't check them. Instead, he adjusted the rearview mirror, took a second to smooth a wrinkle from his jacket sleeve, and backed out of the driveway with practiced ease.
Their house sat comfortably at the end of a curved street lined with trimmed hedges and identical mailboxes. It was the kind of neighborhood where nothing ever looked unfinished. Lawns were cut on schedule. Cars were washed on weekends. Everyone waved, even if they didn't always know why.
Elias had grown up in that kind of order.
Comfortable. Predictable. Expensive without trying to look like it.
His parents were already gone for the day. His mom had left early for a meeting, her coffee untouched on the counter, and his dad had been on a call before sunrise, voice low and sharp through the office door. Elias was used to it. Independence came standard in their house, wrapped in trust and expectation.
He pulled onto the main road, sunlight glinting off the windshield, and finally reached for his phone at a red light.
Messages. Group chats. Marcus sending a video from last night's practice. Someone tagging him in a post he hadn't asked to be in. A reminder about an upcoming game.
And yet, beneath all of it, running quietly like a second app he couldn't close, was the thought he'd gone to sleep with.
Wren.
The name felt strange in his head, like it didn't belong to the rest of his vocabulary yet.
The night before replayed itself without permission.
He hadn't planned on looking her up.
It started casually, the way curiosity always lied about its intentions. He'd been stretched across his bed, one arm behind his head, laptop open more out of habit than purpose. The café lingered in his thoughts, the way a song got stuck without you realizing when it first started playing.
He remembered the way she'd stood there, not nervous, not eager, just present. The red of her hair hadn't been loud. It was muted, natural, like it belonged to her rather than announcing itself. She'd met his eyes without challenge or awe, like he was just another customer asking for coffee.
That alone had unsettled him.
So he typed her name into the Joint school's internal portal.
First name. Last name.
Enter.
He expected something. Anything.
A list of clubs. A half-filled profile. Maybe a comment thread from a class forum. Even rumors usually left fingerprints somewhere online.
But her page loaded blank.
Not broken. Not restricted. Just empty.
Attendance listed as normal. Grades private. No extracurriculars. No photos. No tags.
He frowned, refreshing once. Then again.
That's when he noticed the gaps.
A discussion board where her name appeared once, followed by deleted replies. A group thread where a username had been removed entirely, leaving timestamps with no speakers. It wasn't dramatic. No warning signs. No explanation.
Just absence.
"How does that even happen?" he'd muttered to the empty room.
He'd closed the laptop eventually, but sleep hadn't come easily. Every time he thought he'd drifted off, the same question tugged him back.
How could someone who existed so clearly in front of him have no prior background info?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The school parking lot was already filling by the time Elias arrived. Cars slid into spaces, laughter spilled from open windows, music thumped faintly from somewhere near the senior lot.
He parked, grabbed his bag, and stepped out into the noise.
"Morning, celebrity," Marcus called, leaning against his own car with two teammates nearby.
Elias rolled his eyes but smiled. "You ever get tired of that?"
"Nope. Comes with benefits."
They fell into step together, shoes scuffing pavement, conversation drifting from practice to homework to nothing in particular. Someone joked about the café again. Someone else mentioned the waitress with red hair.
Elias laughed at the right moments, said the right things.
But his eyes searched the crowd anyway.
He spotted her just before the bell rang.
Wren sat near the window, backpack tucked neatly under her chair, hair pulled back loosely like she hadn't overthought it. She wasn't talking to anyone, but she wasn't isolated either. She flipped through a notebook, calm and unhurried.
Elias slowed without meaning to.
She didn't look up.
Something about that felt personal.
He took his seat two rows behind her as the teacher walked in, the room settling into that familiar hush. Papers shuffled. Pens clicked. Elias leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting forward despite himself.
The teacher cleared her throat. "Alright, everyone. Today we're starting a new unit. History."
A collective groan rippled through the room.
"Save it," the teacher said, amused. "This will be a group project. Four people per group. You'll be presenting at the end of the month."
That got their attention.
"You may choose your own groups. You have the rest of the period to get started."
Chairs scraped. Voices rose. The room fractured into movement.
Elias watched as Wren hesitated, glancing around like she was waiting for something to land.
Then someone slid into the seat beside her.
A girl with dark braids and an open smile, already mid-sentence before Wren could respond.
"Hey, um, I'm Maya," she said, extending a hand. "Do you have a group yet?"
Wren blinked, then shook her hand. "No. I don't."
"Perfect," Maya said brightly. "Neither do I. Wanna team up and panic together?"
A small smile tugged at Wren's mouth.
"Sure."
Elias didn't realize he was moving until he was already standing.
"Hey," he said, stepping into their space with practiced ease. "You guys got room for two more?"
Maya looked him up and down, recognition flickering, then shrugged. "As long as you pull your weight."
Wren glanced up at him then.
Just for a second.
Her eyes held his, unreadable as ever.
"Okay," she said simply.
They found a fourth soon enough. A quiet guy named Theo who seemed relieved to be included anywhere at all. Desks were pushed together, notebooks opened, phones pulled out.
The teacher circled the room as Elias leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
"So," he said, glancing around. "History."
"Thrilling," Maya replied. "What era do we want to suffer through?"
Theo suggested something safe. Elias countered with something more ambitious. Maya mediated with enthusiasm. Wren listened, occasionally nodding, occasionally offering a soft correction or suggestion that surprised him with its precision.
She knew her stuff.
They settled on a topic by the end of the period, outlining responsibilities loosely before the bell rang again.
Maya slung her bag over her shoulder. "We should meet up later to actually work on this."
Wren hesitated. "I have a shift at the café after school."
Maya's eyes lit up. "Perfect. Studying with caffeine involved."
Elias nodded. "Works for me."
Wren glanced at him, then away. "Okay."
It was decided just like that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The café looked different in the evening.
The morning rush energy had softened into something warmer. Lights glowed low. Music hummed gently from hidden speakers. The air smelled like roasted beans and sugar.
Elias arrived first, sliding into a booth near the back. Theo came in a few minutes later, awkward but polite. Maya burst through the door like she owned the place, waving at Wren behind the counter before even ordering.
Wren finished taking an order, tied her apron tighter, and joined them with a notebook in hand.
"Give me a few minutes," she said. "I'll help between tables."
They spread their notes across the table, laptops open, voices low but animated. Maya talked with her hands. Theo took meticulous notes. Elias found himself watching Wren when she thought no one was looking.
She spoke differently here. Still quiet, but steadier. More herself.
Halfway through a discussion about timelines, Elias leaned back and asked casually, "So, Wren. Where'd you move from?"
She paused.
"Not far."
He smiled slightly. "What do you like to do? Outside of… working."
She considered that. "I like making things."
Maya jumped in. "She's being humble. She crochets."
Wren shot her a look, half embarrassed.
"That's cool," Elias said. "How long have you been doing that?"
"A while."
Each answer closed neatly, like a door clicked shut before he could see inside.
He tried again later. Softer. "Do you like school?"
"It's fine."
Maya laughed, sensing the tension, and redirected the conversation back to the project with a joke about historical disasters.
Elias let it go, for now.
When they finally packed up, night had settled outside the windows. Chairs scraped back. Goodbyes were exchanged.
Elias watched Wren disappear behind the counter again, apron swaying as she moved.
She was there.
Clearly. Undeniably.
And yet, something about her felt like she could vanish the moment he stopped paying attention.
As he stepped out into the cool night air, that thought followed him home.