A Nobel Heart With No Place To Return

The sky was in between. Not sunny, not cloudy. Just quiet. ‎ ‎ ‎A boy woke up. He slipped his feet into his soft room shoes and walked to the bathroom. ‎ ‎ ‎When he came out, steam followed him. It rose from his shoulders, from his hair. His body was lean and perfect, like a model's - the result of early mornings and discipline, not just good genes. ‎ ‎ ‎He put on his college uniform. White shirt, grey pants, belt tight. He stood in front of the mirror and set his curly black hair with a comb, stroke by stroke. Careful. Like everything he did. ‎ ‎ ‎Downstairs, the house was already awake. ‎ ‎ ‎His mother and father were in the dining room, making breakfast together. Servants moved quietly in the background - this was a noble house, a rich house - but there was no coldness in it. Only warmth. ‎ ‎ ‎His eyes were clear. You could see it instantly. He was raised by good people, with love. And he loved them back. ‎ ‎ ‎His mom smiled when she saw him. She placed a plate in front of him - hot stew with meat, steam still curling. ‎ ‎ ‎"You look so good, my son," she said, her voice soft. ‎ ‎ ‎His father looked up from his newspaper, eyes proud. ‎ ‎ ‎"Well," he said, "I heard the news. College President again, in your very first year. Just like high school. Every year." ‎ ‎ ‎He chuckled. ‎ ‎ ‎"You're doing great, my son. You make our family name more respectful. As you always do." ‎ ‎ ‎The boy ate, quietly. He was used to expectations. He carried them lightly. ‎ ‎ ‎Just as he was leaving for college, his mother stopped him. She held out a small bowl - rice pudding, sweet and white, with a single almond on top. ‎ ‎ ‎"First day," she said. "Eat something sweet before you go. For good luck." ‎ ‎ ‎He laughed, a little helpless laugh. ‎ ‎ ‎"Mom, really? I already ate so much. You want me to live in the gym today?" ‎ ‎ ‎But he took the spoon. One bite. Sweetness melted on his tongue. His mother's love always tasted like this. ‎ ‎ ‎Outside, the car was waiting. The driver opened the door. He sat inside, the leather cool against his uniform. ‎ ‎ ‎As the car started moving toward college, his mind drifted. ‎ ‎ ‎Yesterday. ‎ ‎ ‎The announcement hall. His name called out as President. The applause. And then - her. ‎ ‎ ‎One girl. Standing alone in the crowd. Not clapping. Her eyes were angry, burning at him. ‎ ‎ ‎_He only became President because of his family name._ ‎ ‎ ‎That's what she thought. He had seen it in her face. ‎ ‎ ‎He didn't feel angry. He didn't feel hurt. ‎ ‎ ‎He smiled, alone in the backseat, looking at his phone. A small, curious smile. ‎ ‎ ‎He wondered what other students think. ‎ ‎ ‎The car drove straight, toward college. ‎