Threads of Destiny

20

Back at Étoilemont, the familiar bustle of students returning filled the air—laughter, footsteps echoing in corridors, the creak of luggage wheels over cobblestones. Lea unpacked slowly in her dorm room, listening absently to Clemence hum in the next room.

She sat down on her bed, brushing her hair back, when the thought struck her—Baron.

It startled her. She hadn’t meant to think of him. But the quiet of the past weeks brought his image rushing in—his calm presence, his silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, the way their conversations had wandered between work and everything else, never rushed, never heavy.

Lea frowned at herself, shaking her head as if to scatter the memory. But it stayed. The sound of his quiet laugh. The small smile he gave at her surprised farewell before the break.

She pressed her hands together and drew a slow breath. Why am I thinking of him first?, she wondered.

Still, the thought lingered, no matter how she tried to turn away from it.

---

Appie greeted everyone she passed—friends, classmates, even people she only vaguely knew—with the same wide smile and a wave. Her return to campus felt like stepping into a festival, and she wanted to catch up with everyone at once.

But after a while, her mind settled on just one thought: Baron.

She realized she didn’t even know where his flat was. That didn’t stop her. She hurried through the streets until she reached their usual cafe, the one that had become something of a second home for her. Sliding into his usual seat, she ordered his favourite coffee, cupping it between her hands as if it might summon him.

She took a sip, grinning to herself. If he shows up, I’ll have the best story to tell him—that I drank his coffee before he did.

---

The courtyard was crowded, students jostling to see the tall boards where the results were posted. Voices rose and fell—groans, sighs of relief, little bursts of laughter.

Lea and Clemence squeezed their way to the front. Lea scanned quickly, her name jumping out at her. Higher than before. A small smile bloomed on her face, quiet but steady. Clemence clapped her shoulder, pleased.

Appie darted in from the side, almost tripping over a bag, and found her place. Same as before. She shrugged, unconcerned, then grinned at Lea. “You’re climbing up! Look at you!”

Just then, Baron appeared, weaving through the cluster with his calm step. He checked the board, noted his name, and gave the faintest nod. Up by a sliver—nothing more, nothing less.

Lea noticed. Appie noticed. Neither said anything, but they both smiled at him.

He returned the smallest smile, as if to say, that’s enough.

The crowd around the board slowly thinned as the morning bell drew nearer. Appie finally spotted Baron properly and broke into her usual cheerful wave. “Hey!” she called, bright and easy.

Lea stood a step behind, her own greeting softer, her smile smaller.

For the first time, the two girls looked at each other fully. Not unfriendly, not hostile—just taking measure, eyes meeting with the kind of pause that said, so, you’re here too.

Baron didn’t notice. Or if he did, he gave no sign. He simply gathered them both in the same calm nod, and without hesitation, turned toward the hall. “Come on,” he said, his tone as even as ever.

And so, without another word, the three walked back to class together.

The first week of the new semester always began with lists. Names posted on notice boards, shuffled into groups for projects that would stretch across the months. Students crowded around, groaning or cheering, depending on the luck of the draw.

Appie scanned quickly, looking for Baron’s name near hers. None. Not in any subject. She let out a sigh, exaggerated enough to make her friends laugh, though she didn’t explain.

Lea found her name twice beside his. Once, then again. A ripple of something warm passed through her chest. She pressed her lips together, forcing her face neutral. *Why am I happy about this?* she wondered, trying to tuck the thought away before it showed.

Around them, chatter filled the hall with complaints and celebrations. For most, the groups were routine. For Appie and Lea, the assignments suddenly felt like something more personal—though they told no one, least of all themselves.