The weeks passed with surprising calm. The mansion slowly settled into a quieter rhythm—morning breakfasts, soft goodbyes, and evening returns filled with homework and quiet dinners.
Elsa, still in high school, packed her things and returned overseas to complete her final term. She left with barely a word to me, cool and distant till the very end. Mrs. Pat, ever sweet and graceful, accompanied her daughter, both to help her settle and also to oversee a business project of her own. Her farewell hug to me and the younger siblings had been warm and reassuring.
"You take care of your brother and sister," she'd told me. "And take care of yourself too."
Now, with only the echo of their footsteps lingering in the halls, the house felt different. Not empty—but still.
Shawn, who had just returned from completing college abroad, stayed behind. He was set to begin his university studies in the city and, for the first time, he seemed without distraction—without an escape.
Mr. Philip remained as well, tied to his own business commitments and quietly watching the shift in dynamics. He noticed things—how Shawn would sometimes linger at the door a little longer before walking past me, how my laugh had returned in tiny, rare bursts when playing with Emily and Josh. He said nothing, but his eyes always caught what mattered.
Each morning, the household flowed with its new pattern. My siblings and I went to school, Mr. Philip went to work, and Shawn…
Shawn stayed.
And with that stillness came something new—something unspoken, but undeniably stirring beneath the surface. After Mrs. Pat and Elsa left, the house shifted again.
I was deep in my exam season—head buried in books, notebooks scattered across my desk, highlighters marking paths to success. Ridgeview Girls College was no place to slack, and I knew it. I wanted to make Mr. Philip proud—no, I neededto.
Mr. Philip, always perceptive, noticed my focus and gave me space. He no longer called me for long chats or small errands. Instead, he poured his time into Emily and Josh—taking them to the park, treating them to ice cream, and sometimes letting them tag along on his business trips when appropriate. Their laughter rang through the mansion like sunlight in sound form.
Shawn, meanwhile, lingered in limbo. The fine boy with six-pack abs, soft curls, and lips the color of rose-petal pink spent most of his days applying to universities in the city. He'd sit quietly in the lounge or on the garden bench with his laptop open, eyes occasionally drifting toward the hallway where I might pass.
We rarely spoke. A glance here. A shift in energy there. But never words.
Shawn didn't know why he kept looking for me.
And I didn't know why I always looked away.
Later that afternoon, I was in the study room, legs curled beneath me on the leather chair, papers spread in a chaotic mess that only made sense to me. My pencil tapped against my lips as my eyes darted over a mock test question for the fifth time.
I didn't notice when Shawn walked in. Not at first.
He leaned against the doorway silently, watching me—really watching. The way a loose strand of hair clung to my cheek. The way my brows furrowed when I was deep in thought. I looked… soft. Breakable. Yet there was always something about me that made me seem out of reach, like the moon reflected in water.
He cleared his throat.
I jerked my head up, eyes wide. "Oh—sorry. I didn't know anyone was there."
"You were really into it." His voice was calm, but his gaze flicked over me, lingering maybe a second too long.
"I have exams."
"Yeah. I figured."
A pause stretched between us.
"You always study like this?" he asked, stepping further into the room.
I looked around at the papers, mildly embarrassed. "It helps me think."
He chuckled under his breath. "You're intense. I kinda like that."
I blinked. "Is that a compliment?"
He shrugged, moving behind me, pretending to glance at my notes. "Take it however you want."
I tilted my head, annoyed at his vague tone—and a little flustered.
"You don't know me well enough to 'like' anything about me."
"Maybe," he said, eyes brushing mine. "But that doesn't stop me."
My heart did something strange then—something stupid. I turned my head quickly, looking back at my notes, trying to breathe normally.
"You're distracting," I muttered.
Shawn smirked. "Good. I was starting to think I was invisible to you."
"You're hard to miss," I replied without thinking.
The room got quiet.
Too quiet.
Shawn leaned closer, his breath brushing my shoulder. "Was that a compliment?"
I stood up abruptly, clutching my textbook to my chest. "I need water."
"Sure," he said, voice low, amused. "Don't study too hard. You'll burn yourself out."
I walked past him, refusing to meet his eyes, heat crawling up my neck. But I could feel it again—that pull, that hum in the air when he was near.
Behind me, Shawn ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.
Whatever this was—it was growing. And neither of us was ready for it.
I returned to the study room, my glass of water still trembling slightly in my hand. I tried not to glance in Shawn's direction, but the room held the ghost of his presence even after he had left.
I sat down and stared at my open notes, but the words blurred.
What was that just now?
My heart was still beating a little too fast.
I shook my head, taking a deep breath. Focus. I had exams. Dreams. A promise to keep. And I wasn't about to lose my path over some boy with pink lips and a dangerous stare—even if that stare made something flutter inside me I couldn't explain.
Downstairs, laughter floated up faintly.
Mr. Philip's voice, followed by Josh's squeal and Emily's giggle.
The sound grounded me.
That was why I was here. Why I had to win. For them.
Not for Shawn.
I buried my head in my book.
Meanwhile, Shawn stood outside in the backyard, a basketball bouncing beneath his hand. He wasn't even aiming for the hoop. Just dribbling. Over and over again. Like the rhythm could drown out the thoughts in his head.
He hated how curious he was about me.
About what made me strong. Why I never laughed too easily. Why my eyes always looked like they were searching for something just out of reach.
And why, even when I looked right at him, he felt like I wasn't really seeing him.