The afternoon sun had faded into a pale gold haze by the time the classroom emptied. Brushes lay soaking in the sink, the smell of turpentine soft and sharp in the air.
Hannah stood by the window, arms folded, watching the light shift across the floorboards. The world outside felt impossibly still.
Emma lingered near the tables, drying her hands on a rag. "You've been quiet today," she said finally, her voice gentle but certain.
Hannah didn't turn. "Just tired."
Emma gave a soft laugh. "You said that yesterday."
A long pause settled between them. The kind that carries more truth than either person wants to say aloud.
Finally, Hannah turned, meeting Emma's gaze. "I don't know what to do with all of this."
Emma's expression softened. "With what?"
"You," Hannah said quietly. "This. The way everything feels different now."
Emma didn't move closer, but the space between them still seemed to shrink. "Different how?"
Hannah let out a slow breath. "Like I can't go back to pretending nothing's changed."
Emma set the rag aside, her hands trembling just enough for Hannah to notice. "I don't want you to pretend," she whispered. "Not with me."
The words hung there, fragile and real.
Hannah pressed her palms against the windowsill, grounding herself. "You don't understand, Emma. My whole life is built on keeping things steady. Predictable. Safe."
Emma's voice stayed soft, but it carried something fierce beneath it. "Maybe safe isn't the same as happy."
Hannah looked at her — really looked at her — and the truth of it ached somewhere deep in her chest. "You make it sound easy."
"It isn't," Emma said, stepping just close enough that Hannah could feel the warmth of her presence. "It's just worth it."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The light between them dimmed to dusk, painting their faces in the soft gray of almost-night.
Hannah swallowed hard, eyes shining. "I'm scared," she said.
"I know," Emma whispered. "So am I."
And that was all it took — two confessions in the half-light, small but seismic.
No promises. No grand declarations. Just honesty, fragile and human.
They stood there in silence until the hallway lights flickered on.
Then Hannah smiled, small and sad and real. "I should lock up."
Emma nodded, her voice barely audible. "See you tomorrow."
The words were ordinary. The moment was anything but.