Ripples

Beneath the vaulted ceiling, the cafeteria hummed with the restless energy of lunchtime, a cacophony of scraping chairs and voices colliding. With her fork pushing a weak fragment of lettuce around her bowl, Lalin sat at the far end of a battered table. The smells of mushy noodles and a subtle chemical taste from the cleaning crew's morning rounds hung heavily in the air. The clamor grew around her, shouting, laughing, the clink of dishes, but the tightness coiled in her ribcage muffled it, and it passed over her like static. Her stomach was too tight to undo, so she had only been able to take a nibble.

Mina sat across from him, slouched with her chin on her knuckles and her eyes darting across the room. The pattern was erratic as she absently tapped her spoon against her tray. She added, "You've barely said ten words since homeroom," her voice barely audible above the haze to Lalin. "How are you? Are you still feeling the effects of that standing ovation?

Lalin's fingers tightened on the fork until the cheap metal dug into her skin, but her lips twitched upward, a faint echo of a smile. "Not exactly."

She was plagued by the truth, not by the excitement of the performance but by the consequences that followed. Overnight, persistent and sneaky rumors had taken root, snaking through the school like vines suffocating a garden. She had heard bits and pieces in the hallways—rumors of her and Kiet's "hidden love affair," the duet labeled as evidence. Now, she was being followed by knowing, sidelong eyes that seemed to have caught a glimpse of a secret she had not even told herself. The talk turned their friendship into something abrasive, something she couldn't quite maintain, but it wasn't real—not the way they portrayed it.

Mina's eyes narrowed, focusing on the shadow that passed over Lalin's face. "Leak it. You seem like you're going to run away.

Lalin swallowed, the words clinging to her lips for a moment before slipping out. "It's the gossip. concerning Kiet and me."

A glimmer of curiosity flared as Mina's brows raised. "Oh? "What are they saying?"

"That we're together," Lalin said, her voice tinged with resentment. "They're calling the duet 'too close,' like it's some big reveal."

A peek from a nearby table was prompted by Mina's short, barking laugh. "That is ridiculous. They consider every harmony to be a love letter?

Lalin's mouth twitched, but her eyes were shielded from the amusement. "Seemingly. I'm going crazy over it. Kiet isn't exactly overjoyed either.

With her elbows resting on the table, Mina leaned in and said softly. "Is it related in any way? You two do hang out together a lot.

Lalin felt a hot, prickly heat creep up her neck, but she looked directly into Mina's eyes. "We have a friendship. That's all.

Mina looked at her a moment more, then eased back with a shrug. "Plenty of air. Don't allow the chatterboxes to depress you.

Lalin nodded, but the assurance was tenuous, like a thin patch covering an ever-widening tear. The rumors distorted everything, creating shadows where there had been clarity, and they weren't just noise. Although she and Kiet were closer than she had anticipated, giving it a name felt like giving up a part of herself that she wasn't yet ready to give up.

The quiet of the music room was a welcome respite from the din of the café. The wooden floor was painted a subdued gold by the sunlight streaming through the big windows, and the earthy taste of rosin and old varnish permeated the air. Kiet was sitting by himself on a stool, his violin placed on his knees, his fingers stroking the strings in a quiet, agitated rhythm. He had come here to get away from the stress of the day, but the silence just made the thoughts he couldn't escape more intense.

Chai's voice flowed in, relaxed and unhurried, as the door creaked. "What, you a hermit now?"

Kiet's fingers paused in mid-movement as his head snapped up. With a smile tugging at his mouth, Chai leaned against the frame, his jersey wrinkled from practice. However, there was something sharper in his eyes—less lighthearted, more inquisitive.

Kiet answered, "Not a hermit," in a clipped but steady voice. "Just needed space."

Chai strolled inside and sprawled into a chair, causing the legs to sigh. "Away from your devoted followers? or your woman love?"

A muscle in Kiet's jaw twitched slightly, tightening. "She's not my anything."

Chai's smile remained unwavering, but it became more pointed. "Tell the grapevine that. Up there, you two were virtually singing to each other."

With a faint squeak, the wood protested as Kiet's fingers pressed into the violin's neck. "It was a tune. People overreacted to it.

As the taunting subsided into something more subdued, Chai cocked his head. "You're really upset about this. It's striking you more forcefully than you're admitting."

Kiet let out a hard, strained breath. "They don't believe it. It is, however, interfering with me.

Chai swayed his chair back, causing the front legs to momentarily rise. "Then turn it off. Or don't. Don't stew in it, though.

Kiet's look was not softened by the ironic twist of his lips. "Simple as that, huh?"

Chai grounded him with a strong palm clap on his shoulder. "You're the intelligent one. You'll figure it out."

Lalin entered as the door opened again, her face steady but drawn. Her posture stiffened when she halted upon seeing Chai, but he simply tipped his head in appreciation and stood up.

Chai said, "Think I'll bounce," in a light yet firm tone. "See you around."

The room fell into a heated silence as he crept out. Lalin glided over to the piano, her fingertips brushing tentatively over the ivory, skimming the keys without making any sound.

She whispered, "They won't let up," her voice piercing the quiet.

With his gaze fixed on hers, Kiet placed his violin on its stand. "No. It is their preferred sport.

Arms crossed like a barricade, she turned around. But it's starting to affect us. Isn't it?

Reluctance etched the action as he dipped his head in a hesitant nod. It's difficult not to sense it. However, we are not required to play their game.

Lalin let out a sigh as his shoulders drooped. "I long for the days when we were alone. prior to all of this commotion."

Kiet took two slow steps across the floor and stopped just short of her in the air. "Ignore their portrayal of us. We will compose our own.

A spark of something—resilience, perhaps—flared amid the fatigue as her eyes lifted and met his. "Yes. Let's do it.

The air was alive with a silent defiance as they stood there, the distance between them growing smaller. Here, they would establish a space that answered to no one else, while outside, the stories may swirl and proliferate.