No one can truly fathom another person, like a lake whose bottom swallows every stone.

Hedi thought of that line while Selina’s mouth traced her belly inch by inch, a warm tide rolling over cool shore.

It had nothing to do with the soft footfalls drifting down the corridor like passing rain.

Nothing to do with the lilting class bell floating like a skylark.

Nothing to do with a body shivering like a leaf in winter wind.

She just wanted to follow that thread, like a moth nosing along the weave.

Like a cave dweller staring at the wall painting, could you taste the painter’s heart, like smoke caught in a bowl?

Do you stare at the lines blankly, like watching rain stripe stone, or pick at meanings like tugging silk from a cocoon?

Either way, the primitive soul, soaked and bedraggled like a fox in storm, crouches before the mural and begins a long, slow think.

The cave dweller and I differ in knowledge and order, like mountains in two seasons, yet the same knot binds us—no one can hold another’s deep and shifting sea.

A strange room that chafed like a new shoe.

A new dress that earned no praise, hanging like a flag with no wind.

Principal Bruns’s teasing smile, bright and thin as a cat’s eye.

Nothing to me, a knife to Selina; one hill to me, a cliff to her.

In the end, it was my fault, like a knot hidden under silk.

Students waved to me like birds in morning light; Bruns walked over like a shadow crossing a field; at the gate we entered one before, one after, like two boats missing the same tide.

Three chances lost, like three stones dropped into a well.

“Are you thinking about something?” Her voice brushed my ear like a feather.

“Just self-checking,” I said, like tapping a compass. “I can’t always comfort you this way.”

“Comfort? Weren’t you the one—” Her words flickered like a candle.

“Don’t overthink it. I don’t initiate this kind of thing,” I said, stiff as a reed.

“You clearly said you did,” she murmured, a smile curling like smoke.

“You little brat.”

Hedi’s voice shook, a plucked string thrumming through bone, as a surge like lightning raced her spine, climbed from tailbone to crown, waking every fine nerve like dew on grass.

Her legs kicked on reflex, like a startled fawn, knees slamming the desk with a drumbeat.

“Who’s the brat?” The question fell like a pebble in a pond.

“You are.” The answer came quick as a gull.

“Shameless,” Selina said, then paused, her thought unfurling like a paper fan. “Is it because it’s daytime?”

“What daytime reason?” Her breath snagged like silk on a twig.

“At night, you surrender quickly,” she whispered, a fox grin in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah—wait! Stop! Outside… there are people outside—stop! It’s me, it’s me, I’m the short, show-off brat!”

No one knew how long washed by that tide.

A few minutes, like leaves circling a drain.

Dozens of minutes, like shadows lengthening over stone.

Hedi sprawled over the desk, still as a pond at dusk, only a faint tremor telling of waves that had just broken.

Her head swam, a compass spun by storm.

Her mind sank into a whirling eddy, like a hawk riding thermals, and measures of the room went soft at the edges.

Time slipped by like warm honey.

Her body felt lighter, like a kite tugging its string; her sight not yet set, but the clean orange scent of shampoo rose like a small sun, and she knew Selina had wrapped her from behind.

Those fingers and palms felt unlike anything known or to be known, like water that remembers your skin.

They were ordinary, restless little hands, yet cradling unsayable depth, like a gift box with a hidden letter; through the embrace, their meaning seeped into her, peeling the heart’s thin films layer by layer, like petals eased open by dawn.

“Professor…” Selina breathed, her voice soft as silk slipping over wood.

She held Hedi, small and steady in her arms, not gaunt, not fragile—lean the way a shadow grows in narrow places, the body thinning naturally like a stream in drought.

“How do you feel?” Her question hovered like a moth.

“The way you held back your voice was cute,” she added, a smile rippling like a brook.

“I don’t mean just now!” Hedi leaned back and knocked her forehead to Selina’s, a bright stone striking stone. “I’m asking how you feel after coming to the Academy.”

“A little eased,” Selina said, like a knot loosened but not undone.

“So much paid, only a little?” Hedi teased, a blade under velvet.

“If you keep putting me on a shelf, it’ll get worse,” she huffed, like a cat with its fur up.

“You were so happy while I talked,” Hedi said, a lamp held out. “I didn’t expect you to fear strange rooms.”

“I’m not afraid of rooms,” she said, eyes falling like rain. “I’m afraid of you.”

Hedi blinked, surprise flaring like a match, but waited, still as a held breath.

“Seeing you at the Academy, I found we aren’t from the same world,” Selina said, words slow as a river. “You’re learned, beautiful, proper in speech, a Professor at Hervor Academy. So young, yet printed in journals, honors piled like stars.”

“At home, I didn’t feel it,” she went on, voice small as a mouse. “That little world sealed me in, made me feel I shared your starting line. It was an illusion. Family, background, the miles walked, the books read, the knowledge gathered—you’re distant as a peak above clouds.”

“You said you’re many-sided, a face for every hall,” she breathed, fingers tightening like vines. “But the face you wear at Hervor Academy makes people step back. ‘Professor’ isn’t just respect. It’s a weighty badge, like iron on the chest.”

Hedi cut in, a bell struck once. “I won’t abandon you.”

“But I’m useless,” Selina said, her voice sinking like a stone.

“No one’s born knowing,” Hedi answered, steady as a shore.

“I might trouble you,” she whispered, a leaf curled by frost.

“I troubled you plenty in the Dark Realm,” Hedi said, a rueful smile bending like a reed.

“You were the one solving ciphers,” Selina replied, gaze bright as ice.

“Selina,” Hedi said, formal as a vow. “Grinding yourself down is a bad habit.”

“Not grinding feels narcissistic,” she muttered, a cloud crossing the moon.

“Why is not denying yourself narcissism?” Hedi asked, a window opened to wind.

“Because I have nothing I can affirm,” she said, small as rain on dust.

“Aren’t you confident when you run?” Hedi pressed, a drumbeat in the chest.

“Anyone can do it if they keep at it,” she said, breath steady as a metronome.

“But most people choose the easy slide,” Hedi sighed, like sand giving way, “me included.”

She thought of after she fell out with Stratford, having to face the Dark Realm alone—how she kept shrinking back, afraid of academic fog thick as a winter marsh. And even now, the mist lingered like a ghost.

“Habits aren’t decadence,” Selina argued, a candle holding its flame.

“Decay of thought is worse,” Hedi said, a blade flashing once.

“Your thought hasn’t decayed,” Selina answered, firm as a knot.

“Back to it,” Hedi said, eyes clear as morning. “You’re not afraid of me.”

“Of myself?” Selina asked, startled like a deer.

“Isn’t it plain?” Hedi smiled, a dawn that doesn’t brag.

“I’ve read some psychology,” Selina said, thumbing the spine of air like a book. “But knowing and doing are two roads. Especially when I see you so successful.”

“If that’s true, since I like you, shouldn’t you feel proud?” Hedi asked, a cup offered warm.

“This is the first time you’ve said it in daylight,” Selina whispered, lashes trembling like willow. “It’s not just comfort talk, is it?”

“In this moment, it does comfort,” Hedi said, honest as rain.

“Professor!” Her name broke like sunlight.

“I like you, Selena Viola,” Hedi said, each word set like a stone on water.

Selina’s eyes went wide, and her lips pinched, a blossom folding in surprise.

“Stratford told me, in the car,” Hedi added, voice mild as tea. “You were asleep. I asked your surname. I never said I was waiting for you to tell me. Using it now to show my heart seems fair.”

“I… never did say it,” Selina admitted, a petal caught on the breeze.

“Don’t blame me for poking into family things,” Hedi said, a hand raised like a leaf.

“How could I? Not giving my full name was rude,” she said, cheeks warm as peach.

“Feel better now?” Hedi asked, her gaze steady as a lantern.

“Mm…” The sound was a small purr, like a cat against a palm.

Hedi turned and met Selina’s eyes, two wells reflecting sky.

“I know you in the small ways,” she said, voice slow as tide. “Your temperament, your likes, your dislikes—details the days uncover like shells. Sometimes I can tell you’re thinking, but not what you’re thinking. Like today. Say it to me whenever it stirs. Don’t pack it away in your chest like winter clothes.”

“Because no one can truly fathom another person,” Selina said, the first line returning like a river to the sea.