Clarissa looked around, satisfied. It was soft, dreamy, elegant—exactly what she’d envisioned.

  By the time she tossed the last bag of trash and peeled off her work gloves, the sun was already slipping low. Clementine rushed out with a basket to pick up groceries, and Clarissa, feeling sticky with sweat and dust, took a long, hot shower.

  Afterward, dressed in fresh clothes, she made her way back downstairs to the new piano room. She ran her fingers over the keys, then sat down, flipped open the lid, and began to play.

  She had a rehearsal on Monday. She couldn’t afford to fumble.

  Atticus returned home just as the music began drifting through the house.

  He froze on the landing, ears pricked. The soft, melodic notes floated down the hallway like smoke—faint, graceful, and hauntingly beautiful.

  He followed the sound. The door was slightly ajar, and from where he stood, he could see Clarissa at the piano.

  Bathed in warm, golden light, her back was to him, the white skirt fanned out like flower petals over the piano bench. The breeze from the open window caught the sheer curtains, billowing them gently, and he could swear he smelled gardenias—light, floral, intimate.

  The whole scene looked like something out of a painting.

  Atticus's chest tightened. His heart stuttered, as if something delicate and invisible were brushing across it. Feathers. Fingertips. Something he couldn’t name but felt deeply.

  When the final note faded into silence, Clarissa turned slightly, sensing she wasn’t alone.

  She spotted Atticus immediately—and smiled.“You’re back.”

  He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “Yeah. The piano got delivered…”

  She tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “Mhm. I haven’t played in a while. Did it sound okay?”

  Atticus’s gaze faltered, and his ears flushed pink. He stared down at the floor, swallowing hard. “It was… good.”

  He made a motion to leave, but his feet refused to move. Clarissa raised a brow, then patted the empty space beside her. “Come here.”

  Atticus hesitated. But her voice was soft, the invitation warm. Like gravity, she pulled him in.

  Without realizing it, he walked toward her. He sat down beside her—careful to keep some distance—but she immediately noticed the bag in his hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “Basketball uniform. I had to buy one… they didn’t have my size.”

  Her expression brightened with mild surprise. “So you joined the basketball club?”

  He nodded again, eyes still lowered. “Yeah.”

  Clarissa smiled, genuinely pleased. “That’s great. I’m glad you’re getting involved.”

  There was still a space between them on the bench, but even from that distance, Atticus could smell her. She always had this light, clean scent that made his thoughts blur around the edges. It wasn’t perfume. It was just… her.

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  His fingers curled tighter around the edge of the bench, trying to ground himself. She was so close, warm and real and effortlessly beautiful.

  Noticing the way Atticus was staring at the piano, Clarissa tilted her head with a soft smile. “You like the piano?”

  Atticus froze for a second, his mind going blank. Before he could think better of it, he murmured, “Yeah…”

  Clarissa's eyes lit up. “Wanna try? I can teach you.”

  Before he could say anything, she was already moving—gracefully stepping behind him, leaning over just slightly. Her soft breath brushed his cheek, warm and fragrant. He went rigid, heart hammering in his chest like a drum.

  His body tensed, heat blooming in his chest and spreading rapidly through his veins like wildfire. He had no idea where to put his hands, his feet—hell, even his thoughts.

  Clarissa gently reached forward and took his hand, placing it on the keys. Her fingers wrapped lightly around his, guiding him as she began to explain the basics—how each key worked, how to find middle C, what each note meant. Her voice was soft, low, brushing against his ear like velvet.

  Atticus felt like he couldn’t breathe. Her warmth was all around him, her scent lingering in the air. It was sweet, clean, just a little floral—and dangerously intoxicating.

  His throat was dry. His palms sweaty. His entire body was tense, vibrating with something he didn’t have a name for.

  Finally, he broke. “Clarissa…”

  “Hm?” Her voice was gentle, as if she hadn’t noticed the chaos she’d just caused inside him. “What’s wrong? Am I going too fast?”

  Music had a way of calming her, and maybe it could help him too. If he really liked it, she’d sign him up for lessons. He was smart, gifted even—he’d catch on in no time.

  But Atticus couldn’t think about any of that. Not with her this close.

  He inhaled slowly, trying to even out his voice. “I… I just want to hear you play.”

  Clarissa blinked, then let out a breathy laugh. “Right.”

  She smiled, slightly sheepish. She’d forgotten, in her eagerness to help, that Atticus was still just a boy. So, she slid back onto the bench beside him, picked up the sheet music, and chose a few gentle, lyrical songs—pieces full of warmth and softness.

  She began to play. Atticus didn’t move. He just watched her, every note echoing in his chest like a quiet drumbeat. The way her fingers moved over the keys, the way she swayed ever so slightly, lost in the music—it was mesmerizing. Her hair glowed in the golden light, and her expression was so serene it almost hurt to look at.

  He didn’t blink once.

  Clementine’s voice eventually called them for dinner, breaking the spell. Clarissa turned to him with a smile and stood up.

  “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  She reached out, and Atticus followed her quietly, his thoughts still lingering in the piano room long after they left it.

  The days passed quickly. A month and a half blinked by. The video shoot wrapped smoothly.

  The final poster was filmed outdoors beneath a blooming pear tree, white petals fluttering in the air like snow. Clarissa and William stood beneath it, holding open books, their smiles radiant—like something from a dream.

  In the video, Clarissa played the piano while William stood nearby, reciting lines of poetry under the wide blue sky. A breeze rustled the grass as a flock of white doves soared behind them, brushing against William’s white shirt and the hem of Clarissa’s skirt.

  It was effortless. Enchanting. The kind of beauty that left people breathless.

  When the poster and video were released, the school’s website crashed within minutes. The clip was uploaded to YouTube—and in just one night, the views exploded into the hundreds of thousands.

  All because of two faces. Clarissa and William’s flawless visuals, paired with their top-tier academic status, turned them into instant campus celebrities.

  The comment section was overflowing:

  > “Straight out of a movie. Unreal.”

  > “Top of the class and they look like that? Not fair.”

  > “Are they dating? They should be.”

  > “This is the kind of promo that makes me want to actually apply here.”

  The internet had spoken—and it was obsessed. Clarissa and William were now the golden pair on campus.

  June stared at the promotional photos on her screen, scrolling through the flood of comments beneath them. The longer she looked, the more irritated she became. Her fingers clenched around the tray until her knuckles turned white.

  Clarissa again. Just dumped by Dorian, and now she's clinging to William? Shameless. Absolutely disgusting.

  Before her anger could cool, the manager stormed over and caught sight of her phone.

  "You’re still glued to that thing? Customers are calling for you, and you're here scrolling like you're on vacation? You want to get fired?!"