The change didn’t announce itself.
It moved the way ripples do—soft at first, barely noticeable unless you were looking closely. Noah didn’t feel heroic walking into school that Friday morning. He felt… normal. A little nervous. A little proud. Mostly unsure.
Ben was already seated when Noah entered the art room, shoulders hunched, fingers twisting the corner of his workbook. When he saw Noah, his face brightened in a way that still surprised Noah every time.
“You came,” Ben said.
“Of course,” Noah replied, sliding into the chair beside him.
Ben nodded, relief visible in the way his shoulders loosened.
Across the room, the teacher watched them for a moment longer than usual before turning back to the board.
The class began as it always did—papers passed around, instructions read alo
