(Sam Pov)
Ruby Jane wasn't in class.
Not that I'd ever made a habit of tracking people's attendance — I barely noticed when Alex skipped for three days straight last semester — but this felt… different.
Maybe it was because she'd started to show up more lately. Or maybe I'd just started noticing her more. The way she always walked a little faster when we crossed paths. How her friends filled the air around her like a moving buffer.
But today?
The seat near Felix and Becky was empty.
And the second I saw it, something in me shifted.
Weird.
By third period, I found myself looking for her during announcements.I read the bulletin just like always, voice calm and clipped, jokes landing well enough. But I kept expecting her to be there — somewhere in the crowd, in her usual faded hoodie, with a pen tucked behind her ear like it belonged there.
She wasn't.
And it bugged me.
At lunch, I caved.
I tossed my juice into the bin and made my way toward Felix and Becky. They were laughing over something — Becky's phone screen angled toward him, Felix doubled over like whatever it was had just shattered his last working brain cell.
They both stopped when I walked up.
"Hey," I said. Casual. Or trying to be.
"Uh. Hi," Becky said slowly. "You… need something?"
"Is Ruby okay?"
They exchanged a look.
Becky opened her mouth, probably to give me a normal answer.
But Felix got there first.
"Terribly ill," he said, voice low and serious. "Struck down by a fever most foul."
Becky blinked. "She has a cold."
Felix ignored her. "Left alone. Helpless. Defenseless. A sick little ghost girl lying in bed with no one to warm her soup or—"
"She has parents," Becky cut in.
Felix narrowed his eyes at her like she was ruining the vibe.
"I just meant," I said, "is she okay?"
Becky studied me for a beat too long. Then nodded. "She's fine. Tired. Her mom made her stay home."
"She hates missing class," Felix added dramatically. "But alas, no one to visit her. Tragic."
"We could go," Becky said dryly.
Felix gasped. "But the projects, Rebecca."
Becky muttered something under her breath and shook her head.
I shouldn't have cared. Really.
But the way they talked about Ruby being home — alone, possibly bored, possibly sick — made something ache in my chest.
I didn't even know what I'd do if I went.
But I still heard myself say, "What's her address?"
I stared at the little note Becky scribbled for me all the way through last period.
This was dumb.
I didn't do home visits. I didn't even go to Alex's place, and I'd been "dating" him for almost a year.
This wasn't part of the plan. There was no plan.
But apparently, Ruby skipping school was all it took to unravel the last bit of sense in me.
The neighborhood wasn't what I expected.
It was quiet. Lined with trees. Clothes drying on balconies. A toddler on a tricycle nearly ran over my foot as I followed the numbers on the buildings.
And then I found it.
A pale blue door with a wind chime and a worn-out doormat that said "Come hungry or don't come at all."
I stared at it for a second too long.
Then knocked.
The door opened to reveal a man with greying hair, smile lines, and a dish towel thrown over one shoulder.
For a second, we both just blinked at each other.
Then he said, "Well, look who it is."
"…Sorry?"
"You were at the food court a couple weeks ago, right?" He grinned. "You had the sour look and the good appetite. I gave you extra bread."
"Oh." I blinked. "Right."
He opened the door wider. "Sam Walker, right?"
I paused.
"…Yes."
"Ruby's upstairs. Come in."
I stepped into warmth.
Literal warmth — the place smelled like tomato soup and garlic bread — but also a kind of cozy I hadn't felt in… ever.
The walls were lined with mismatched photo frames. A crooked clock ticked softly in the hall. There were drawings pinned on the fridge. One corner of the living room had fairy lights hanging even though it wasn't Christmas.
"I'll get her mom," he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
A second later, a woman poked her head out — flour on her hands, glasses sliding down her nose.
"Oh!" she beamed. "We were just talking about you."
"You were?"
She nodded. "Ruby told us you carried Becky to the nurse. Very kind of you."
I didn't know what to say.
"You hungry?" she asked.
I opened my mouth to say no.
But my stomach answered for me.
She laughed. "That's a yes."
I was guided to the couch, handed a warm bowl of soup, and told to "rest those tired athlete feet."
Every time I tried to protest, Ruby's mom waved me off with a smile and another spoonful of something warm and perfect.
Eventually, Ruby came downstairs — bundled in an oversized hoodie and fluffy socks, her hair slightly damp.
She froze when she saw me.
"Hey," I said, unsure where to put my hands.
"…Hi."
"I heard you were dying," I said, trying to keep my tone light.
She shot a look at Felix in her imagination, clearly.
"Sorry," she said. "You didn't have to come."
I shrugged. "It was either this or another civic panel speech."
She sat down slowly across from me. "Didn't think you were the visiting sick kind."
"I'm not."
"…Oh."
"But you missed class."
She blinked. "And?"
I avoided her eyes. "You usually don't."
That made her go quiet.
Then she smiled.
And I swear, something in my chest clicked wrong.
We didn't talk about the letter.
We didn't talk about anything important.
But we sat there — sipping soup, watching her dad attempt to balance garlic bread on a ladle, her mom scolding him for "flirting with carbs again."
And somehow… that did more for me than all the fake award ceremonies my parents dragged me to.
I didn't know you could feel like this in someone else's living room.
Warm. Unjudged. Safe.
Later, when Ruby excused herself to go lie down, her mom sat beside me.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, gently, "but I packed you a little extra."
I stared at the small wrapped container she placed in my hands.
No one had packed me anything in years.
I swallowed. "You didn't have to—"
"Of course I did. You came to see my daughter."
I didn't know what to say.
So I nodded.
And for a second, I thought I might cry.
I made it to the front gate before I let myself stop and breathe.
The food was warm in my hands.
And my heart felt… strange.
I wasn't used to being remembered. To being cooked for. To having someone know my name and mean it.
I'd grown up thinking love came in conditions.
And here was this quiet girl with a fever and two soft parents who didn't ask me to be anyone but a tired teenager with cold hands.
[End of Chapter 16 – A House with Warm Walls]
I didn't know what I came here for.But I think I found something I didn't know I'd been missing.