Your's, eventually

back to school

The past few days had been nothing but trouble, and I was afraid they might have been taking a toll on my mental health.

Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone an entire day without something happening to ruin my mood. Between Xander and Marielle acting as though they were the only two people in existence, Ethan's increasingly strange behaviour, and my own inability to get my feelings under control, I was beginning to wonder whether coming to Paris had been a good idea in the first place.

Don't get me wrong. Paris was beautiful. The buildings, the streets, the little cafés, and the breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower were everything I'd imagined and more.

The problem wasn't Paris.

The problem was the people I had come here with.

Particularly one blond-haired boy who seemed determined to make me question every decision I'd ever made.

Xander.

Just thinking about him was enough to make me sigh.

I had spent so much time trying to figure out how to make him notice me that I'd barely had a moment to enjoy the trip properly. Every time I saw him laughing with Marielle, I found myself wondering what she had that I didn't. Every time he held her hand or kissed her cheek, my mind supplied a hundred ridiculous questions I had absolutely no business asking.

Did he like girls who were more confident? Was I too quiet? Should I change something about myself?

The questions were exhausting.

And the most irritating part?

I knew better.

I was Gabriella. The girl who could spend hours researching a subject simply because she wanted to understand it. The girl who had skipped ahead in school because the lessons were too easy. The girl who could solve a complicated mathematical problem but apparently couldn't figure out why a boy who had a girlfriend wasn't falling in love with her.

My priorities were beginning to concern me.

Still, I had something important to do that morning.

Our teacher had announced that we would each present the discoveries we had made during our visit to Paris. We were expected to explain what we had learned, share our observations, and discuss how the experience had changed our understanding of the city.

Naturally, I had taken the assignment seriously.

I'd spent most of the previous evening organising my notes, reviewing the photographs I'd taken, and making sure I could explain everything without staring at a piece of paper for the entire presentation.

I even practised in front of the mirror.

Twice.

The first time, I sounded like a news reporter who had been forced to work a double shift.

The second time, I sounded like a news reporter who had been forced to work a double shift and had just discovered that her salary wasn't coming.

By the third attempt, I decided I was ready enough.

Besides, I had bigger problems to worry about than the possibility of embarrassing myself in front of my classmates.

For example, I hadn't seen Ethan properly since the previous evening.

Well, I'd seen him.

It was rather difficult not to notice someone who had spent the better part of the trip sitting beside you, arguing with you, making fun of your questionable decisions, and occasionally looking at you as though you were the most confusing person he'd ever encountered.

But lately, something about him had changed.

He was quieter.

Not completely silent, of course. Ethan would probably find a way to insult someone even if he were stranded on a deserted island with nobody but a coconut for company.

However, his jokes had become less frequent, and when he did speak, there was something strange about his tone.

It was almost as though he were forcing himself to sound normal.

I had asked him whether something was wrong the previous evening.

He'd told me he was tired.

I'd asked him whether he was sure.

He'd asked me whether I intended to conduct a full investigation into his sleeping habits.

Naturally, I'd rolled my eyes and left him alone.

But that morning, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering him.

I just couldn't figure out what.

And, knowing Ethan, he probably wouldn't tell me even if I did.

"Gabriella!"

I nearly dropped my notebook.

I turned around to find Tasha standing, she was one of Marielle cheer leaders teammates ,she looked a lot older now, probably because she repeated the same class thrice, she walked over and stood beside my bed, looking at me as though I'd personally offended her by existing in the same room.

"What?"

"Are you planning to spend the entire morning staring at that notebook?"

"I'm preparing for my presentation."

"You've been preparing for your presentation since yesterday."

"And?"

"And we're supposed to be downstairs in fifteen minutes!"

I glanced at the clock.

Oh.

That was unfortunate.

I immediately began gathering my things, shoving my notebook into my bag and checking that I had everything I needed.

My phone. My notes. My photographs.

My sanity.

Well, I couldn't find the last one, but I decided to proceed without it.

"Do you think my presentation is good enough?" I asked as I followed Tasha towards the door.

She stopped and stared at me.

"Gabriella, you could probably write a presentation about the history of a spoon and somehow make it interesting."

I frowned.

"A spoon?"

"Yes, a spoon. You know, that thing people use to eat."

"I know what a spoon is, Tasha."

"Wonderful. Then we're already making progress."

I gave her a look.

She grinned.

"Relax. You're going to do fine."

I wanted to believe her.

I really did.

But there was a difference between knowing your subject and standing in front of an entire class while everyone watched you speak.

I wasn't particularly afraid of public speaking, but I wasn't fond of being the centre of attention either.

Especially when some of my classmates seemed to consider paying attention a personal insult.

Still, I'd prepared thoroughly, and I wasn't about to let a little nervousness get the better of me.

I straightened my shoulders and followed Tasha downstairs.

Whatever happened that day, I was determined to get through it without embarrassing myself.

For once, that seemed like a reasonable goal.

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful.

Or it would have been, if Xander and Marielle hadn't been sitting directly across from me.

Marielle was telling him something about the previous evening, and Xander was listening with that charming smile that had apparently become my personal weakness.

Every so often, she'd touch his arm, and he'd lean towards her as though she were telling him the most fascinating story in the world.

I concentrated very hard on my breakfast.

The toast was excellent.

The juice was cold.

The tablecloth was an interesting shade of white.

Anything was better than watching those two behave like the rest of us had been invited to Paris solely to serve as their audience.

"So, are you ready for your presentation?" Xander suddenly asked.

I looked up.

For one glorious second, I forgot how to speak.

He was looking directly at me.

Actually looking at me.

Perhaps the universe had finally decided to reward me for my suffering.

"Yes," I replied, trying to sound casual. "I've been working on it."

"I bet you've got about a hundred pages of notes."

I blinked.

"Only twelve."

He laughed.

Marielle glanced at me, then at him.

"Twelve pages? For one presentation?"

"It's called being prepared," I explained.

"It's called being Gabriella," Xander corrected, still smiling.

Everyone laughed.

I tried not to look too pleased that he'd remembered something about me, even if it was merely my tendency to take schoolwork seriously.

Then Marielle rested her head against his shoulder.

"At least someone enjoys studying," she said. "I nearly fell asleep doing mine."

Xander kissed her forehead.

"That's because you spent more time complaining about the assignment than actually doing it."

She playfully pushed his shoulder.

He laughed and caught her hand.

And just like that, my brief moment of happiness came to an abrupt end.

I looked down at my plate.

Of course.

Why had I expected anything different?

I was still staring at my toast when someone pulled out the chair beside me.

Ethan.

He sat down without saying a word, placed a glass of water on the table, and reached for a piece of bread.

I glanced at him.

"Good morning to you too."

He looked at me.

"Good morning."

I waited.

Nothing.

I raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?"

He paused with the bread halfway to his mouth.

"Would you prefer a musical performance?"

I almost smiled.

Almost.

"There he is."

He frowned slightly.

"Who?"

"The person I usually have to threaten before getting a normal response."

"How unfortunate for you. I seem to have misplaced him."

He returned to his breakfast.

I watched him for another moment.

His words sounded like him. The sarcasm was there, and the expression on his face was familiar enough.

But something was missing.

His eyes looked tired, and there was a faint crease between his eyebrows that hadn't been there before.

I wondered whether he'd slept badly.

"You okay?" I asked.

He didn't look up.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I asked you a question, Ethan. I didn't accuse you of committing a crime."

"Give it time."

I stared at him.

He continued eating.

Normally, I would have had at least three things to say in response. Unfortunately, my brain seemed to be occupied with the mystery of why he was behaving so strangely.

Before I could question him further, Xander called my name from across the table.

"Gabriella, don't forget to show us your pictures during your presentation!"

I turned towards him.

"Of course."

"Especially the ones you took near the Eiffel Tower."

I smiled.

"I will."

When I looked back at Ethan, he was watching Xander.

Not smiling.

Not making a sarcastic remark.

Just watching him with an expression I couldn't quite understand.

Then he looked away and took another sip of water.

I opened my mouth to ask what that was about, but Tasha appeared beside me and announced that we were going to be late.

And so, once again, my questions went unanswered.

By the time we arrived at the classroom, most of our classmates had already settled into their seats.

The room was bright, with sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Outside, the morning was beginning to warm up, and I could hear the faint noise of traffic drifting in from the street.

Our teacher stood at the front, arranging a stack of papers on his desk.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, sir," we chorused.

"Now, I hope you've all made good use of your time in Paris. As I explained yesterday, today's presentations aren't simply about repeating information you found online. I want you to tell me what you discovered for yourselves."

He walked towards the board.

"What caught your attention? What surprised you? What did you learn that you hadn't understood before coming here?"

I opened my notebook and reviewed my first few points.

This was exactly why I'd enjoyed the assignment.

There was a difference between memorising facts and understanding what they meant. I'd known about the Eiffel Tower long before this trip, but standing beneath it had made its size and significance feel entirely different.

I'd read about the Louvre, but learning about its history and seeing how much art it contained had given me a better appreciation of it.

Paris wasn't just a place I'd seen in photographs anymore.

It was a city I'd actually experienced.

And I wanted my presentation to reflect that.

Our teacher explained the order of presentations, and I listened carefully as several students went before me.

The first student spoke about French food and the importance of traditional dishes in French culture. The second discussed the city's architecture, while another presented photographs from a visit to a museum.

Some students were confident. Others stumbled over their words or forgot entire sections of their notes.

One boy spent nearly a minute trying to remember the word architecture.

I felt sorry for him.

Mostly because I'd once forgotten the word triangle during a mathematics test and had spent the next five minutes staring at the page as though the shape had personally betrayed me.

When the boy finally returned to his seat, our teacher thanked him and checked his list.

"All right. Next, Gabriella."

My stomach tightened.

I closed my notebook.

This was it.

I stood, gathered my notes, and walked to the front of the classroom.

For a moment, I became painfully aware of everything around me.

The sound of chairs shifting.

The whispering at the back.

The way several students turned to look at me.

I placed my notes on the desk and took a breath.

Then I looked up.

Ethan was sitting near the window.

He had his arms folded across his chest, and his expression was unreadable.

Xander sat a few seats away from him, with Marielle beside him.

I briefly wondered whether Xander would be impressed by my presentation.

Then I mentally slapped myself.

I was not doing this for Xander.

I was doing it because I'd worked hard, because I cared about what I was learning, and because I wasn't going to let a boy's romantic life become the centre of my existence.

At least, that was the plan.

I cleared my throat.

"Good morning, everyone. Today, I'll be talking about some of the historical and cultural discoveries I made during our visit to Paris."

My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

Good.

I continued.

"Before coming here, I already knew that Paris was famous for its history, architecture, museums, and landmarks. However, visiting these places helped me understand that there's much more to a city than the information we read about it."

I glanced at my notes, then looked back at the class.

"For my presentation, I've decided to focus on three things: the history behind some of Paris's most famous landmarks, the importance of preserving cultural heritage, and what I learned from experiencing the city in person."

Our teacher nodded encouragingly.

I felt some of my nervousness disappear.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

I moved to my first topic.

"The first place I researched was the Eiffel Tower."

I picked up one of my photographs and showed it to the class.

"Before our trip, I'd seen hundreds of pictures of it. I knew it was one of France's most famous landmarks, and I knew it attracted millions of visitors. But what I found particularly interesting was its history."

I explained that the tower was built for the 1889 Exposition Universelle, which celebrated the centenary of the French Revolution.

"It was designed by the engineering company associated with Gustave Eiffel, and it was originally intended to stand for a limited period. Interestingly, not everyone liked it when it was first constructed. Some artists and writers criticised its appearance."

A few students looked surprised.

I smiled.

"Yes, apparently, even a structure that eventually becomes one of the most recognised landmarks in the world can have a difficult beginning."

Someone laughed.

I felt my confidence grow.

"Over time, however, the tower became an important symbol of France. It also served practical purposes, including supporting scientific experiments and radio communications."

I held up another photograph.

"Standing beneath it made me appreciate its size in a way that pictures never could. It was one thing to read about the engineering involved in constructing it, but quite another to see the structure in person."

I paused briefly.

"That was one of my biggest discoveries during this trip. Sometimes, experiencing something for yourself gives you a different understanding of information you already know."

I glanced towards our teacher.

He was listening attentively.

Good sign.

I moved to the next part of my presentation.

"The second place I researched was the Louvre Museum."

I displayed a photograph I'd taken outside the museum.

"The Louvre was originally built as a fortress in the late twelfth century, during the reign of Philip II. Over the centuries, it was expanded and transformed, eventually becoming a royal palace before opening as a public museum during the French Revolution."

I explained how the museum's collections covered thousands of years of art and history.

"What I found particularly interesting was that the building itself is part of the history it preserves. The Louvre isn't just a place where people go to see paintings and sculptures. Its architecture reflects the different periods through which Paris has developed."

I glanced at the class.

"Of course, the artwork is important too. The museum contains works from different civilisations and historical periods, allowing visitors to learn about the beliefs, values, and artistic achievements of people who lived long before us."

I paused.

"And I think that's one of the reasons museums matter. They help us understand people whose lives were completely different from our own."

For a moment, the classroom was quiet.

Not the uncomfortable kind of silence I'd feared earlier.

The listening kind.

I continued.

"Before this trip, I mostly thought of museums as places where you went to look at old things. But after learning more about the Louvre, I realised that preserving art and historical objects also means preserving parts of human history."

I glanced at my notes.

I had written that sentence the previous night, but saying it aloud made it feel more meaningful.

"Without places like these, future generations might have fewer opportunities to learn directly from the objects and buildings that have survived from the past."

Our teacher nodded.

I allowed myself a small smile before moving to my third topic.

"Another discovery I made was about Parisian architecture."

I showed the class several photographs of the buildings I'd seen during our visit.

"One thing I noticed was how the city combines historical architecture with modern life. Many buildings have distinctive façades, decorative details, balconies, and tall windows. Some streets look as though they belong in a history book, yet people still live and work in those buildings every day."

I looked at one of my photographs.

"That made me think about the relationship between preserving history and allowing a city to develop. Cities need modern buildings, better transport, and new technology, but they also need to protect the places that give them their identity."

I turned back towards the class.

"I think the challenge is finding a balance between the two."

A hand went up.

It was one of the boys sitting near the back.

"So, are you saying Paris shouldn't build new buildings?"

I shook my head.

"Not at all. I'm saying that development doesn't necessarily mean destroying everything that came before. New buildings can exist alongside historic ones, provided that cities make thoughtful decisions about what they preserve and how they grow."

He nodded.

"That makes sense."

I was beginning to enjoy myself.

The nervousness that had followed me to the front of the room had almost completely disappeared.

For the first time that morning, I wasn't thinking about Xander, Marielle, or Ethan.

I was simply Gabriella, standing in front of a class and talking about something I cared about.

And I liked that feeling.

I moved on to my final point.

"Something else I learned from visiting Paris is that culture isn't limited to famous landmarks."

I explained how the city's cafés, public spaces, markets, and everyday streets contributed to its character.

"Before coming here, I thought of Paris mainly through the landmarks I'd seen in photographs. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and other famous places were what immediately came to mind."

I smiled faintly.

"But walking through the city helped me understand that a place's identity also comes from the people who live there, the traditions they maintain, the food they prepare, the language they speak, and the way they use the spaces around them."

I paused to gather my thoughts.

"Tourism allows people to learn about different cultures, but I think it's also important to remember that these places aren't simply attractions for visitors. They're part of people's everyday lives."

I glanced at my photograph of a busy Parisian street.

"The people who live here aren't walking around thinking about how beautiful their city looks in pictures. They're going to work, meeting friends, buying groceries, and getting on with their lives."

A few students laughed.

I grinned.

"Which is something I found rather comforting. It reminded me that no matter how famous a place becomes, it's still home to someone."

Even as I said it, I felt a strange little ache in my chest.

Home.

The word had become complicated for me.

Sometimes, I missed the life I'd had before everything changed. Other times, I wondered whether I'd ever feel completely settled in the life I had now.

I pushed the thought aside.

This wasn't the time.

I had a presentation to finish.

"In conclusion, my discoveries in Paris taught me that history, culture, and modern life are more connected than I had previously realised. Famous landmarks can help us understand the past, museums preserve important parts of human history, and architecture shows us how cities change over time."

I took a breath.

"But perhaps the most important thing I learned is that travelling isn't just about seeing new places. It's about paying attention, asking questions, and being willing to understand things from a different perspective."

I looked around the classroom.

"And sometimes, the things we discover for ourselves stay with us much longer than the facts we memorise for an examination."

I paused.

"Thank you for listening."

For a second, nobody spoke.

Then the applause began.

I smiled, gathering my photographs and notes while trying not to look as relieved as I felt.

Our teacher stood.

"Excellent work, Gabriella. Your research was thorough, and I particularly appreciated your observations about the relationship between historical preservation and modern development."

"Thank you, sir."

"You've demonstrated a clear understanding of your subject. I also liked that you didn't simply repeat facts but explained what you personally learned from the experience."

I returned to my seat feeling considerably lighter.

One presentation down.

Several personal problems still waiting to ruin my life.

But at least I'd accomplished something.

As I sat down, Tasha leaned towards me.

"See? I told you you'd do well."

I smiled.

"You did."

"And you didn't even faint."

"I'll try to remember to thank you for your faith in me."

"You're welcome."

I shook my head, laughing quietly.

Then I turned towards Ethan.

He was looking down at his notebook again.

I waited for him to say something.

Anything.

A joke about my twelve pages of notes.

A complaint about the length of my presentation.

Perhaps even an exaggerated imitation of my serious voice.

Instead, he closed his notebook and looked at me.

"Good presentation."

I blinked.

"Thank you."

He nodded and turned towards the window.

That was it.

No teasing.

No sarcastic remark.

No attempt to annoy me.

I stared at the side of his face.

Something was definitely wrong.

Ethan was many things. Irritating, stubborn, unnecessarily dramatic whenever mathematics was involved.

But quiet?

Quiet was not a word I would ordinarily use to describe him.

I leaned towards him.

"Are you being serious?"

He glanced at me.

"About what?"

"My presentation."

"Must we have an entire discussion about it?"

I frowned.

"I'm just asking."

"And I answered."

I stared at him for another moment.

His voice wasn't angry exactly. If anything, he sounded tired.

But there was something else beneath it, something I couldn't identify.

I lowered my voice.

"Ethan, is something wrong?"

He looked at me.

For a brief moment, I thought he might actually tell me.

His expression softened, and his lips parted slightly, as though he were considering what to say.

Then the moment passed.

"Nothing's wrong, Gabriella."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Because you've been acting strange since yesterday."

"Have I?"

"Yes."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Perhaps you've finally become interesting enough to notice other people's behaviour."

I narrowed my eyes.

"There's the insult. I was beginning to think you'd been replaced by a polite stranger."

He gave a faint smile.

But it disappeared almost immediately.

I watched him turn back towards the window.

Outside, a car passed along the street, and sunlight reflected off the glass.

For some reason, I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Not because he'd insulted me.

I was accustomed to that.

It was because his insult had sounded like something he was saying out of habit rather than something he genuinely meant.

I wanted to ask him what was happening.

I wanted to know why he seemed so distant, why he barely looked at me anymore, and why every conversation between us felt as though we were both avoiding something neither of us knew how to discuss.

But our teacher began calling the next student's name, and the opportunity slipped away.

I turned towards the front of the classroom.

I tried to pay attention to the next presentation.

I really did.

But every few minutes, my eyes drifted towards Ethan.

He didn't look at me again.

And for the first time since we'd started spending so much time together, I found myself wondering whether I had done something to upset him.

The thought followed me for the rest of the lesson.

By the time the bell rang, I had come to one conclusion.

Whatever was happening with Ethan, he wasn't going to tell me voluntarily.

Which meant I had two choices.

I could leave him alone and pretend I hadn't noticed anything.

Or I could do what any perfectly reasonable, emotionally stable person would do.

Ask him approximately seventeen more questions until he finally gave me an answer.

Naturally, I was leaning towards the second option.