Fiona's POV
By the time the rain finally eased, the storm had left everything soaked and heavy with the scent of wet earth. The school halls were eerily quiet, except for the soft squelch of our shoes against the tiled floor. Ragnar walked a few steps ahead of me, shoulders squared, as if nothing had happened — as if he hadn't spent two hours in the storm searching for me like a madman.
Meanwhile, my heart was still doing flips from everything he'd said.
You matter, Fiona.
I stole a glance at him — at the damp curls still clinging to his forehead, the faint shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. No... exhausted. But of course, he didn't complain. He never did.
The night air was crisp when we finally stepped outside. The rain had stopped, but puddles still glistened beneath the moonl
