intrepidity

Elias was wrong. This wasn't exciting.

Aurora sat stiffly in the backseat of Antonio's car, her fingers twisting together in her lap. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it over the quiet hum of the engine. First day. The words felt suffocating.

She was on the verge of breaking down.

"Just be yourself, sweetheart. It'll be great." That's what Elias had told her this morning, his usual warmth in every word as he handed her a pink lunchbox, tiny purple stars decorating the lid.

Yeah, right. Great was a lie.

All she felt now was misery.

The car door opened, and Atlas grinned down at her as he reached for her hand, his grip steady and reassuring. His other hand rested lightly on her shoulder, a small gesture, but one that helped ground her as she stepped out.

Aurora barely registered the warmth of his touch.

Because before her stood the school—her school.

It was massive. The kind of building that belonged in a movie, towering and pristine, with golden and beige accents that screamed wealth. Too big. Too much. Aurora was sure she'd get lost at least twice, if not more. She swallowed hard, shuffling closer to Atlas as they walked inside.

At the reception desk, an older woman with kind eyes greeted them.

"You must be Miss Valenti?" she asked, her fingers moving across the keyboard. At the confirming nod from her brothers, she handed them a paper with a warm smile.

"Welcome to Riverstone, Miss Valenti."

Aurora hesitated before offering her a small, shy smile in return, lifting her fingers in a timid wave before following her brothers down the student-filled hallways.

And that's when the whispers started.

Eyes turned. Conversations shifted. The murmurs were subtle but sharp, crawling under her skin like an itch she couldn't scratch.

"Is that their sister?"

"Oh my God, they're so hot!"

"She looks too weird to be a Valenti."

"Maybe she's adopted?"

Aurora kept her head down, gripping the sleeve of Atlas' jacket like a lifeline. She didn't want to hear them. Didn't want to know what they thought of her.

Atlas must have noticed, because his arm shifted—slowly, carefully—until it was resting across her shoulders, shielding her from the stares.

"Just ignore them, sorellina," he murmured, voice low but firm. "They don't know a damn thing."

Aurora nodded, exhaling softly. She wasn't sure she believed him.

"Okay, you have Science first," Antonio said, handing her the timetable with a firm but gentle tone. "Here's your schedule. At lunch, if you want to sit with us, we won't mind. And if anyone—anyone—is being mean, you tell us." His voice left no room for argument.

Before she could respond, Atlas ruffled her hair, then leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture made something in Aurora's chest tighten—affection like this still felt foreign, like she was standing too close to a warm fire, unsure if it would burn or comfort her.

She clutched her timetable tightly and walked into the empty classroom, picking a seat by the window. It was quiet, and for a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, pulling out her unicorn-themed pencil case. The sight of it brought a small smile to her lips.