March 20 – St. Ivy High, Class 1-A
The school bell rang, sharp and clean, echoing across the hallway floors like a signal that everything was back to normal.
Except it wasn't.
Not in Class 1-A.
The desks were the same. The faces, mostly unchanged. The chatter, the laughter, the usual chaos—it all still happened.
But something was missing.
Someone.
And even though no one said it out loud, the absence of Jay Markov still hovered in the air like static that refused to dissipate.
The Empty Desk
"Ugh, I forgot my math notes again," Sofia groaned, flopping face-first onto her desk.
Emma glanced sideways. "If you spent less time drawing hearts in your planner and more time writing formulas, maybe you wouldn't be behind."
"Oh please," Sofia muttered, lifting her head. "You think I don't know you rewrote your biology notebook three times just to stop thinking about him?"
Emma's pen froze in mid-air.
Across the aisle, Amaya looked up from her sketchbook.
The room went quiet for a moment.
Then Emma, without missing a beat, said flatly, "That's rich coming from the girl who almost cried when he missed your birthday."
Sofia rolled her eyes. "I did not cry. I teared up dramatically."
Amaya offered a small smile. "That's… not better."
A few snickers broke the tension, but it was short-lived. All eyes—subtly, hesitantly—shifted toward the back corner of the class.
Jay's desk sat untouched, the chair always tucked in, the surface unnaturally clean.
They never gave it to anyone else.
They never talked about it much.
But they all felt it.
Mr. Brooks Notices
The door slammed open. Mr. Brooks walked in, coffee in one hand, a packet of printouts in the other.
"Pop quiz," he said grimly.
Groans followed immediately.
"Blame yourselves," he added. "Your class average dipped below the other first-years. That's what happens when your star rep disappears for Four months."
The moment he said it, he paused.
Then sighed.
"...Sorry."
He cleared his throat and slapped the papers on the front desk.
"We'll keep it short. Five questions. Finish in ten minutes."
As the students bent over their desks, the weight of his words lingered more than the quiz.
Even Mr. Brooks missed him.
III. Tyler and Iris
Lunch was noisy as always.
Tyler plopped down beside Iris with his tray and an overly dramatic sigh.
"They gave us a pop quiz today. I got number two wrong just to honor Jay's legacy of screwing with the curve."
Iris giggled. "Isn't that how you always score?"
Tyler grinned. "Yes, but this time it was symbolic."
Iris reached out, gently brushing crumbs off his shoulder.
"You miss him."
"Of course I do," Tyler muttered. "The guy was my anchor. Now I've got no one to stop me from setting the chemistry lab on fire."
She leaned on his shoulder. "You've got me."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. But don't let me near anything flammable, okay?"
Yuki Watches
In the library, Yuki sat alone, fingers tapping lightly on her tablet.
She wasn't reading.
She was staring at a timeline.
Jay left after the midterms.
No contact since.
Not a message. Not a single sighting. Not even a whisper from the city.
And yet… she had seen a flicker.
An encrypted news channel had a blurred image from a summit. The silhouette in the background—posture, height, hands in pockets—looked far too familiar.
She closed the tab.
Then opened a fresh page and titled it: "Markov Hypothesis – Day 87."
She smiled faintly.
Emma's Desk
Back in class, Emma sat alone during homeroom clean-up.
Her bag was packed. Everyone had gone.
Except her.
She glanced over at Jay's seat.
Then down at her planner.
She flipped past her scribbled exam goals, flipped past her doodled stress charts, flipped past the dates.
And found one small corner of the page where she'd written:
"When you come back—don't act like nothing happened."
She closed the book.
And for just a second, her fingers hovered over her phone.
But she didn't message.
Didn't delete the number either.
Just placed the phone down and whispered:
"Idiot."
The Wind Changes
The next day was the school festival pre-meeting.
Everyone would be there.
Class 1-A was planning a major performance this year. Tension was high. Expectations higher.
And yet, in the middle of it all, the air around the school suddenly felt… different.
Lighter.
Excited.
Almost like something—or someone—was coming.