A morning of quiet observation. An evening of unspoken emotions. A touch that changes everything.

  Breakfast – The Observers

  The dorm’s shared kitchen was filled with the ctter of dishes and the hum of casual conversation. Everyone was slowly settling into their new routine, but Cian and Aoife noticed something immediately.

  Saoirse and Liam sat across from each other, chatting normally—maybe too normally.

  Aoife (whispering to Cian): “They’re acting weird.”

  Cian (raising an eyebrow): “They’re acting… fine.”

  Aoife: “Exactly. Too fine.”

  She took a sip of her coffee, narrowing her eyes at how Saoirse ughed a little too easily at something Liam said.

  Aoife (muttering): “They fucked.”

  Cian (choking on his coffee): “Jesus, Aoife—”

  He quickly wiped his mouth, lowering his voice.

  Cian: “You don’t know that.”

  Aoife (ftly): “I know Saoirse. I know Liam. And I know that look.”

  Cian gnced at Saoirse again. There was something different. Not in a bad way—just… something.

  He frowned. Why did it bother him?

  That Night – Drinks & Confessions

  Cian’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of his desk mp casting shadows on the walls. He poured another drink, passing Aoife her gss as she lounged on his bed.

  Aoife (smirking): “So, are we gonna talk about it?”

  Cian (sitting in his chair): “Talk about what?”

  Aoife (mocking): “You know what.”

  Cian sighed, rolling the gss between his palms.

  Cian: “It’s not a big deal.”

  Aoife: “You’re right. It’s not. But it still got to you.”

  Cian didn’t respond. Maybe it did get to him. Maybe he just wasn’t sure why.

  Aoife tilted her head, studying him.

  Aoife (softly): “I get it, you know. Watching someone you were close with move on.”

  Cian met her gaze. For the first time that night, they both acknowledged it.

  Their history. Their past. The fact that, at one point, they were each other’s world.

  Cian (exhaling): “You ever think we made a mistake?”

  Aoife (quietly): “No. But I think we were too much alike to st.”

  A silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant sounds of the city outside.

  Then, a small movement.

  Aoife shifted, reaching for her drink, but her fingers brushed against his hand.

  Neither of them pulled away.

  Their eyes met, and suddenly—the weight of the past, the tension, the unsaid words—colpsed into a single moment.

  Cian leaned in. Aoife didn’t stop him.

  A kiss. Soft at first. Testing. Then deeper.

  A quiet surrender to something they thought they had left behind.

  And just like that—it all started again.