Chapter Text
“Mom?!”
The word slipped out of Sandrone before she could stop it. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth.
Too late.
Two heads turned toward her.
Columbina’s expression held mild confusion, her brows lifting slightly at Sandrone’s sudden outburst. The other gaze was calm, curious, and quietly observant.
Columbina’s mom studied Sandrone for a moment before stepping closer, the soft fabric of her dress shifting gently with her movement.
“You must be Sandrone,” she said, her voice gentle, almost warm with a quiet sense of wonder.
“I… uh—” Sandrone faltered, suddenly unsure how she should even address her. The woman looked far too young to be someone’s mother—let alone Columbina’s.
Before Sandrone could stumble into something embarrassing, the woman continued.
“My name is Lauma,” she said with a small, graceful nod. “Columbina’s mother.”
Sandrone straightened slightly.
“And thank you for taking care of my daughter at school,” Lauma added. “She says many things about you—”
She paused briefly, her lips curving faintly.
“Good things, of course.”
“Mom,” Columbina whined softly from the side, her tone gentle but clearly warning.
Lauma chuckled, the sound light and affectionate.
Sandrone did not miss the way Columbina’s cheeks had tinted faintly pink—subtle, but noticeable if one paid enough attention. She quickly cleared her throat.
“It’s nothing, ma’am,” she said politely. “Just… doing my job as her class buddy.”
She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Lauma immediately shook her head.
“Please don’t say it like that,” she said kindly. “I’m sure it isn’t ‘nothing’ if you’ve been so good to my daughter.”
Her gaze softened slightly as she looked toward Columbina.
“Columbina does not open up to people easily,” she continued. “So if she speaks about someone this often, it means that person must be important.”
Sandrone felt her ears grow warm. She could see Columbina’s blush, too—so she quickly looked away.
Lauma then glanced around the busy street—the noisy stalls, the crowd pressing through the narrow walkway, the flickering lights, strangers passing by too close for comfort.
Her expression shifted.
Still calm.
But something about it screamed cautiousness.
“Unfortunately,” Lauma continued gently, “I must take Columbina home now.”
She placed a light hand on Columbina’s shoulder.
“This area is a little too crowded for my liking.”
Her tone softened further.
“Please do not take offense. It’s just… there has been an incident before. I would rather not take unnecessary risks.”
Columbina frowned faintly. “But, Mom,” she protested quietly. “I don’t want to go yet.”
Her voice remained soft, but the reluctance in it was clear. “I’m safe here.” She tilted her head slightly toward Sandrone. “I have Sandrone with me.”
Sandrone blinked. Once. Twice.
Wait.
Why did that suddenly feel like responsibility was being dropped onto her shoulders?
It did not help that Columbina’s mother was now looking at her with an unreadable expression.
At the very least, she did not look angry.
But still.
The woman’s calm gaze carried a weight that made Sandrone oddly aware of her own position in this situation.
Her eyes drifted sideways.
Columbina had turned slightly toward her, her face angled in Sandrone’s direction. Though her eyes were shut, the tilt of her head made it clear she was waiting.
Half expectant.
Half pouting.
Sandrone suppressed a groan. Why are you making that kind of expression at me?
She cleared her throat, inhaled quietly, and did what she believed was the most reasonable thing.
“Feel free to take her home, ma’am,” Sandrone said, her tone deliberately nonchalant.
The reaction was immediate.
Columbina’s brows furrowed.
A faint crease appeared between them—small, but noticeable against her otherwise gentle, composed features.
Sandrone sighed inwardly. She knew that look. That was the look Columbina had when she strongly disagreed with whatever had just been said.
Lauma, however, only gave Sandrone a small, appreciative nod.
“Thank you for understanding,” she said warmly. Then she turned toward Columbina and gently took her hands in her own. “Come now.”
Columbina did not move at first.
Lauma’s voice softened. “I know you’re upset, dear.”
She brushed a loose strand of hair from Columbina’s face with quiet affection. “But please don’t take it to heart. It’s not that I don’t trust you… or your friend.”
Her gaze flickered briefly toward Sandrone before returning to her daughter. “But you cannot take a mother’s worry so lightly.” She paused, her voice lowering slightly. “You already know there was an incident before. I simply do not want it to happen again.”
Sandrone’s ears subtly perked up.
An incident before.
There it was again.
She had heard Lauma mention it earlier, and Sandrone was already starting to piece it together—that whatever had happened before was the reason for all this protectiveness.
Something had happened to Columbina. Something serious enough that even standing in a busy street like this made her mother uneasy.
Sandrone frowned faintly but said nothing.
Columbina remained quiet for a moment.
Then, slowly—
She nodded.
Meekly. Almost reluctantly. As if the decision had already been made long before she could argue against it.
“…Alright,” Columbina said softly.
Lauma squeezed her hands gently, relief softening her features—though the tightness in her expression made it clear that her own protectiveness weighed on her just as much.
Columbina then turned her head toward Sandrone. Even without sight, she faced her almost perfectly. Her expression was difficult to read. Something softer had replaced the earlier pout.
Regret, perhaps.
Or disappointment.
“Thank you for the food,” Columbina said gently. “And… for everything today, Sandrone.”
Lauma then guided her toward the waiting car nearby, opening the passenger door and helping her settle inside before closing it gently.
Before stepping into the car herself, Lauma paused and turned back to Sandrone.
“Once again,” she said gently, “thank you for looking after Columbina.”
Sandrone straightened slightly out of reflex. “It’s nothing, ma’am. I was just—”
Lauma lifted a hand lightly, cutting her off with a warm smile.
“Still. I appreciate it.”
She reached into the small handbag hanging from her arm and pulled out a thin, rectangular card.
“Here,” she said, offering it to Sandrone.
Sandrone blinked in surprise but accepted it.
The card was thick.
Heavier than the usual flimsy paper ones people handed out. The surface was smooth and cool between her fingers, with embossed lettering that caught the glow of the nearby stall lights.
“You can contact us directly if anything comes up,” Lauma continued. Then she added, almost casually, “It’s my wife’s calling card, though.”
Sandrone glanced down.
Indeed, the name printed on the card was not Lauma’s. Her brows knit slightly as she read it again.
The design was simple—almost minimalistic—but the material alone already spoke volumes. Subtle gold lining framed the edges, and the company logo stamped near the top was unmistakable.
Sandrone froze. Her eyes widened just a fraction.
That company—
It belonged to one of the largest business groups in the entire country. Her gaze flicked from the card… to the white car… and then back to the card again.
…What the heck?
She knew Columbina was rich. That much had been obvious from the beginning.
But not this rich.
Sandrone felt the strange weight of the card resting between her fingers, suddenly aware that it probably cost more to produce than most people’s entire wallets. She could only stare at it silently for a moment.
Lauma seemed to notice the shift in her expression and chuckled softly.
“It’s just in case,” she said reassuringly. “If Columbina ever needs help at school… or if something concerns you, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Sandrone quickly composed herself. “I—Yes, ma’am.”
Lauma smiled again.
“You may call me Lauma, dear,” she corrected gently. “You’re my daughter’s friend. No need to be so formal.”
Sandrone hesitated, then nodded.
“…Yes. La—” She cleared her throat. It felt far too casual. “Miss Lauma,” she corrected.
“Good.”
Lauma seemed satisfied with that.
“Then I hope we can meet again sometime,” she added. “Properly, next time. I’d like to thank you more properly… and perhaps have a chat.”
Her gaze softened slightly. “After all, you seem to be a very important friend to Columbina. I’d like to know more about the person she speaks so fondly of.”
A faint heat crept up Sandrone’s neck. She coughed lightly into her fist.
“…Columbina is just exaggerating. I’m not that impressive.”
Lauma only laughed quietly. “We’ll see about that.”
She then turned, and before stepping back into the car, Lauma glanced back one final time.
“See you again, Sandrone.”
Then the engine hummed to life soon after.
The white car slowly pulled away from the curb, until it disappeared beyond the glow of the food stalls.
Sandrone remained standing there.
Silent.
The calling card still resting between her fingers.
She stared at the embossed company name again.
Come to think of it, she had just fed cheap food to maybe one of the richest girls in town.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
Then she slipped the card carefully into her pocket, as if suddenly aware that losing it might be a catastrophic mistake.
>>><<<
The next morning arrived like any other school day.
Same streets. Same routine.
As Sandrone approached the school gates, she could already spot the familiar white car parked along the curb from several meters away.
And beside it—
The equally familiar figure.
Columbina.
Sandrone sighed inwardly.
Great. Another day of being pestered.
She adjusted the strap of her bag and continued walking toward them, bracing herself for the inevitable greeting—some soft comment, a teasing remark, something that would inevitably irritate her before the first bell even rang.
But as she drew closer, something felt… off.
It was Gill who greeted first.
“Good morning, Miss Sandrone,” he said politely.
Sandrone slowed her steps slightly.
“…Morning, Gill.”
Her eyes instinctively flicked to Columbina, waiting for her usual greeting.
The girl stood quietly beside the car, her posture as straight and composed as always. Her head tilted slightly toward the sound of Sandrone’s footsteps—clearly aware of her presence.
Yet—
No greeting.
No teasing remark.
Not even a single word.
Just a small, acknowledging nod.
Sandrone frowned faintly. “…Okay,” she said slowly, the word slipping out before she could stop it, carrying a quiet confusion she didn’t bother hiding.
Gill gave a polite bow.
“Then I will take my leave. Please have a good day at school.”
The car door closed with a soft click, and moments later, the white vehicle pulled away from the curb, leaving the two girls standing by the school entrance.
Sandrone glanced at Columbina again.
Still silent.
No humming. No playful comment. No casual question.
Just calm, quiet composure.
“…You’re quiet today,” Sandrone said at last.
Columbina didn’t respond.
Instead, she simply turned toward the school building and began walking.
Sandrone stared at her for a moment.
Then sighed and followed.
The two walked side by side toward their classroom.
Wordless.
.
.
.
They reached the classroom not long after.
Still wordless.
Sandrone stepped inside first, greeted by the low hum of early morning chatter. A few classmates were already seated—some talking in quiet clusters, others lazily preparing their books before the day properly began.
She walked to her seat without looking back.
Columbina followed beside her with the same quiet composure.
No sound came from Columbina.
Just the soft scrape of chairs against the floor as they both sat down.
Sandrone placed her bag on the desk and pulled out her notebook, trying to settle into the normal rhythm of the morning.
Good, she told herself firmly.
This was good.
She should not be affected by this.
In fact, she should be relieved. Happy. Celebrating even.
Columbina wasn’t bothering her. She wasn’t leaning over to ask pointless questions. She wasn’t making those soft teasing remarks that somehow always managed to get under Sandrone’s skin.
No humming.
No smiling in her direction.
No attention at all.
Right?
…Right?
Sandrone groaned quietly under her breath. Something felt wrong when there shouldn’t be.
A strange, uncomfortable weight sat somewhere in her chest, and no matter how much she tried to ignore it, it stubbornly refused to leave.
It didn’t even make sense.
This was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Peace and quiet.
No distractions.
No irritating girl sticking too close to her.
Yet somehow the silence beside her felt heavier than it should.
Before she could spiral further into the thought, the classroom door opened again. Mrs. Viken walked in, and the room quickly settled as students returned to their seats.
“Good morning, class,” she greeted, placing her materials on the desk before beginning the day’s lecture.
Sandrone forced her attention forward.
Pen in hand. Notebook open.
She tried—genuinely tried—to focus on the lesson.
But the words from Mrs. Viken seemed to blur together.
Dates.
Concepts.
Instructions.
None of them stayed in her mind for more than a few seconds before slipping away. Her pen hovered uselessly above the page.
Ridiculous. Sandrone frowned slightly at herself. What is wrong with me?
She shifted in her seat and tried again to concentrate. Yet no matter how hard she tried, one thought kept creeping back into her mind.
Columbina hadn’t said a single word to her since they met this morning.
Sandrone gritted her teeth faintly.
Come on, focus, me, she scolded herself, forcing her eyes back toward the board.
She tightened her grip on the pen, determined to push the thought aside.
She really did try to ignore it.
But the silence beside her kept gnawing at her patience like a dull blade scraping against metal.
It was irritating. Unsettling. And worst of all—she couldn’t focus at all.
So when the bell finally rang for break, Sandrone snapped. She turned sharply in her seat, scooting closer to where Columbina sat, leaning forward slightly, her nose practically fuming.
“Alright,” she began sharply. “Speak up.”
Her fingers tapped impatiently against the edge of Columbina’s desk. “What the heck is wrong, Columbina?”
Columbina didn’t answer.
Instead, she shifted in her chair, the faint scrape of her sleeve against the desk marking the motion, and angled her body slightly away from Sandrone, as if the conversation didn’t exist.
Sandrone’s eye twitched.
She did not like that.
At all.
Her voice dropped lower.
Slower. Warningly.
“…Co-lum-bi-na.”
It was as if she had spoken a magic word.
Columbina paused, then shifted her posture toward Sandrone. The faint tilt of her head, the subtle brush of her hand along the desk, indicated she was paying attention.
Her tone was quiet, measured, but unmistakably pointed. “You did not fight for me yesterday,” she said.
Sandrone blinked.
Once. Twice.
It took several seconds for the words to register.
“…Huh?”
Columbina’s slight shift, a tiny adjustment of her hands on the desk, carried the same weight as a visible pout might. “You heard what I said the first time.”
Sandrone stared at her.
“What? I mean—what?” She huffed in disbelief, throwing a hand in the air. “Did you seriously expect me to fight your mom for your right to what?” She scoffed. “To stroll around food stalls?”
Columbina didn’t move closer, didn’t speak louder—her quiet presence somehow made her words land even firmer. “You could at least try,” she said innocently.
Sandrone nearly choked. “No way I’m getting between you and your mom,” she shot back immediately. “And she really did look worried about you. Like I took you somewhere dangerous.”
She crossed her arms with a huff. “Honestly, the way she reacted, anyone would think the streets were a crime scene.”
That finally made Columbina shift slightly, letting out a soft, resigned groan. “I told you,” she said plainly. “They can be really overprotective. Especially Mom.”
Sandrone sighed, leaning back in her chair. She rested her cheek on her palm, elbow propped on the desk, letting her gaze fall toward the space where Columbina’s presence lingered.
“Well,” she said after a moment, voice calmer now, “there must be a reason for that.”
Columbina stayed still beside her. The faint movements of her hands on the desk, the soft inhale of her breath—everything communicated patience, but nothing more.
Sandrone assumed the silence meant the girl didn’t want to talk about it—whatever incident her mother had mentioned yesterday. And honestly, Sandrone wasn’t the type to pry if someone clearly didn’t want to share.
So she simply shrugged it off.
But then Columbina shifted again, her small, deliberate movements giving her away.
“Can we go back there later?”
Sandrone frowned slightly. “…And where exactly is there?”
“The food stalls.”
Sandrone closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. “You really don’t learn, do you?”
Even without sight, Columbina’s posture hinted at a faint, hopeful tilt, and the gentle brush of her sleeve against the desk carried a subtle sense of curiosity, almost daring Sandrone to say yes to her demand.
“Of course not,” Sandrone continued flatly. “I’m not messing with your mom. That’s it. Period.”
“But she is not here,” Columbina replied simply, her voice calm, measured.
“That’s not the point.”
“You pointed it out yourself,” Columbina added softly. “It is not dangerous there.”
Sandrone rubbed her temple. “That’s also not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Sandrone stared at her, tone firm. “The point here is I said no. If I say no, it’s a no.”
Columbina tried again, the faint shuffle of her hands against the desk betraying her persistence. “It would only take a little—”
“No.”
“We could just—”
“No.”
A pause.
Then Columbina exhaled softly, a gentle, almost playful sound. “…Aww.”
Sandrone’s brow twitched. “Don’t ‘aww’ me, Columbina. If you want to go there, you need permission from your mom first.”
Columbina’s hands folded neatly on the desk, the slight movement audible as she adjusted them. She angled her posture forward again, calm but deliberate. “Fine. I understand,” she said quietly.
Sandrone sighed, shaking her head. “I surely hope you do,” she muttered.
Columbina remained silent, but the faint pressure of her presence—the subtle shift of her hands, the soft tilt of her body—gave away a sense of quiet mischief. The discussion was clearly not over yet.
Sandrone groaned, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Maybe Columbina’s earlier silent treatment hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.
And strangely, the tension in her chest eased a little.
>>><<<
The rest of the school day passed in a blur.
Classes came and went. Lessons were written on the board, copied into notebooks, and half-forgotten the moment the bell rang again.
Sandrone found it easier to concentrate now. The robotics club operation went smoothly as well.
By the time club activities finally ended, the sky had already begun to darken.
Now the two of them stood by the school gates, waiting for the familiar white car.
A late afternoon breeze stirred lightly around them.
Columbina shifted slightly, subtly signaling her attention toward Sandrone.
“Sandrone—”
“No,” Sandrone said immediately.
Columbina paused, letting the faint brush of air from her movement speak for her disappointment.
“Aww.”
Sandrone sighed, crossing her arms. “I told you. I’m not taking you there again. Not when we haven’t gotten permission from your mom.”
Columbina exhaled softly, the sound thoughtful. “I never pegged you as someone who sticks to the rules.”
“Hey,” Sandrone said, feigning scandal. “I bend rules… well… sometimes… for my own benefit. I don’t see any reason why bending yours would benefit me.”
Columbina’s gentle chuckle drifted across the quiet street.
Then silence settled between them—not the tense, awkward kind from earlier that morning, but a calm, almost companionable quiet.
Cars rolled past the gate.
Students walked by in small groups.
The faint smell of street food drifted from somewhere farther down the road.
Sandrone shifted her weight slightly.
Through the subtle shift in posture and the small, deliberate tilt of Columbina’s head, Sandrone could tell she was listening—not to her, but to the world around them: the distant hum of traffic, the rustle of leaves, the faint clatter of a bicycle chain somewhere beyond the gate.
Her tone had changed. The playful teasing from earlier had faded, replaced by something quieter… reflective.
“I did tell you that I have never been to street food stalls, but…” Columbina began slowly, her words deliberate. “There was a time, when I was in elementary school, that some classmates invited me to go food stall hopping after school. I joined them since my ride home hadn’t arrived yet, and part of me wanted to fit in with their group."
Sandrone blinked. She hadn’t expected that.
Columbina continued, calm but softer now, each phrase carrying careful weight. Her fingers folded together loosely in front of her, brushing her cane—a tactile anchor as she recounted her story.
“It was a busy afternoon. Like yesterday and today.”
She tilted her head slightly toward the faint noise of passing cars, orienting herself by sound.
“At first, they guided me properly—telling me where we were going, what they wanted to try. They sounded very excited.”
Sandrone said nothing, but she found herself listening more carefully, attuned to the rhythm of Columbina’s voice and the subtle pauses in her story.
“Then they got distracted,” Columbina continued. “They went ahead without me.”
A brief pause.
“I do not think they meant to leave me behind,” she added gently. “Children are simply… forgetful sometimes. They forgot… about me. About my condition.”
Sandrone’s brow furrowed slightly, already sensing where this story was heading.
“The crowd was thick,” Columbina continued. “People were walking in every direction. I tried to follow the sound of their voices.”
Her head tilted faintly, the subtle shift of her posture marking her attention.
“But their voices disappeared.”
She took a small breath.
“And people kept bumping into me.”
Something tightened slightly in Sandrone’s chest.
“I tried stepping forward back then to avoid someone pushing past me,” Columbina said, her fingers tightening around her cane. “And suddenly, the ground beneath my foot changed. There was no pavement anymore.”
Sandrone’s eyes widened slightly.
“The crowd had carried me onto the street.”
A car passed by the school gate at that exact moment. The roar of its engine seemed louder than usual, rumbling through the air.
Columbina continued quietly, “And apparently, there was a car approaching.”
Sandrone clenched her jaw faintly.
“Luckily, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the sidewalk before anything happened.”
Columbina gave a small shrug, the motion soft, almost imperceptible.
“My mothers became much stricter after that.”
She tilted her head again, her posture calm and measured.
“They worry whenever I’m in crowded streets now… even with a companion.”
A light breeze stirred through the gate.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Sandrone clicked her tongue quietly.
“…Well.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “That explains it.”
Columbina’s voice softened, carrying a faint warmth. “But I trust you, Sandrone,” she said simply.
Sandrone blinked, caught off guard.
Columbina continued, her words calm, thoughtful.
“I feel safe whenever I’m with you.”
The breeze swirled lightly around them, carrying the distant noise of traffic and the chatter of students leaving campus.
“Even though crowded streets still scare me,” Columbina went on, “I have the courage to go there because…”
She tilted her head slightly, the movement subtle but deliberate, a gentle signal toward Sandrone.
“…you’re with me. And I know you won’t leave me behind.”
The words were plain. No teasing. No softness hidden behind humor. Just quiet, sincere honesty.
And for some reason, that made it worse.
Heat flared instantly in Sandrone’s ears.
Then her cheeks.
“W-What are you talking about so suddenly, geez—”
She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her skin.
Not that Columbina could see it anyway.
Still.
Her voice had already betrayed her.
Columbina smiled a little wider. She could hear it clearly—the slight stumble in Sandrone’s words, the tiny hitch in her breath, the subtle shift of weight as she fidgeted.
Ah. So Columbina decided to press her luck. “So,” she began sweetly, “can you take me to the food stalls now?”
Sandrone groaned. “No!”
“Aww.”
“Hey!” Sandrone snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “You can’t just use your tragic backstory to make me do your bidding!”
Columbina paused. Then her tone softened, calm but deliberate. “But it’s Friday now,” she said quietly.
Sandrone frowned, baffled. “Uh… yeah? And?”
Columbina tilted her head slightly, a subtle, deliberate motion. “We won’t meet each other tomorrow.”
A small pause. Then, almost shyly, she added, “I’ll… kind of miss y-… hanging out with you.”
Sandrone froze. The warmth that had barely faded surged back twice as strong.
“…Wha—”
Her brain short-circuited for a second. She looked away immediately, rubbing the back of her neck, as if that could somehow cool the heat creeping up to her ears.
“Y-You’re saying weird things again,” she muttered, though her voice had already lost most of its bite.
Columbina smiled again, softer this time, almost apologetic. She let out a small, gentle sigh.
“Fine,” she said. “I won’t push you if you truly don’t want to take me there.”
Sandrone blinked. That… was unexpected.
Columbina shifted slightly, the soft rustle of fabric and faint click of a zipper filling the quiet space between them as she rummaged through her bag. She pulled out her phone and pressed buttons with practiced ease.
“I’ll have Gill take me home early then,” she said simply.
Sandrone frowned. Something about the way Columbina said it felt… off.
Too easy.
Too calm.
Too very—not Columbina-like.
“…Right,” Sandrone replied slowly.
She should be happy. Columbina had backed off without another argument. So why did it feel like something wasn’t finished yet?
Like the conversation had ended before reaching its real conclusion.
Sandrone narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing the tension in the air, trying to pinpoint that strange unease in her chest—
Beep. Beep.
The familiar sound cut through the quiet.
Sandrone’s head snapped toward the street. The same white car rolled to a stop near the gate.
Right on cue.
Columbina slipped her phone back into her bag, the soft swish of fabric barely audible.
Sandrone opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Before she could speak, Columbina turned slightly toward her, the tilt of her head conveying warmth.
“Goodbye for now, Sandrone,” she said calmly. “Have a nice weekend.”
“…Y-Yeah.”
Then Columbina began walking toward the car. Gill stepped out to open the door as usual, and she slipped inside with quiet ease, the soft rustle of her bag the only sound.
The door closed.
The engine hummed.
And just like that, the car rolled away from the curb, merging into the traffic.
Leaving Sandrone standing at the gate.
Half-flustered.
Half-baffled.
“…Gods…” she muttered under her breath. “What a day.”
>>><<<
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Sandrone woke to the loud, relentless banging on her bedroom door.
“Sandrone, wake up!”
The voice was muffled through the wood, but she knew exactly who it was.
She groaned into her pillow, barely cracking her eyes open to squint at her surroundings. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, far too bright for her liking. With a tired grunt, she turned her head toward the clock sitting beside her bed.
7:21.
Sandrone groaned even louder.
It was Saturday morning, for goodness’ sake.
Why in the world was Alain waking her up at such an ungodly hour?
She buried her face back into the pillow and pulled the blanket over her head. The solution was obvious.
Ignore it.
Back to sleep.
A few seconds of peaceful silence passed.
Then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“Sandrone!”
She gritted her teeth.
“You have a visitor,” Alain’s voice called again from the other side of the door.
Sandrone did not move. She was not falling for that.
“It’s Columbina.”
Her eyes snapped open.
Wide.
Completely awake.
As if her entire system had suddenly overdriven and flushed away every trace of sleep, she shot upright in bed. One swift motion later, she was across the room, yanking the door open.
“What?!” she blurted.
Alain was standing there, far too amused for her liking.
“Well,” he said casually, “good morning to you too.”
“You’re not joking, right?” Sandrone demanded immediately. “Because that’s a really bad joke.”
Before Alain could respond, a soft voice drifted from behind him.
“And why would it be a bad joke?”
Sandrone froze. Slowly, she leaned to the side, trying to see past Alain.
And there she was.
Columbina stood quietly in the hallway, hands folded gently in front of her. Her posture was as composed as ever, every movement measured. Even in the early hour of Saturday, she radiated calm, like she had been awake for hours already. Her long hair fell neatly over her shoulders, soft and unruffled.
Sandrone blinked.
Then she looked back at Alain.
“…Please tell me this is a dream,” she muttered flatly.
Alain’s brow twitched in annoyance. Instead of answering, he nudged Sandrone’s arm, cleared his throat, and turned toward their guest.
“I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior, Columbina,” he said politely. “She’s… really not a morning person.”
Then, leaning close to Sandrone, he whispered, “Now don’t be rude. Your friend took the time and effort to come see you. That’s rare for you, you know.”
Sandrone groaned.
As if she needed friends on a weekend. Her machines were far better companions than any human being.
Still looking thoroughly unimpressed, she stepped forward and stopped in front of Columbina.
“…Why are you here?” she asked bluntly. “It’s a weekend, for goodness’ sake.”
Columbina tilted her head slightly toward Sandrone’s voice, the faint smile still lingering on her lips.
“I know.”
“That wasn’t the point,” Sandrone muttered. “Why are you here?”
Columbina tilted her head just a little more, subtle but deliberate, a quiet signal that she was focused on Sandrone.
“Well,” she said gently, “like I mentioned yesterday, we wouldn’t meet if it’s the weekend.”
Sandrone stared at her, blinking in disbelief.
“…So?”
“So,” Columbina continued calmly, “I came to meet you instead.”
Sandrone blinked. Once. Twice.
“…You came to my house.”
“Yes.”
“On a Saturday morning.”
“Yes.” Columbina then asked innocently, “Is there any problem?”
Sandrone dragged a hand across her unwashed face, letting out a long, exasperated sigh.
…This is going to be a long day.