Lynn's POV
It had been days since the locker room incident, and I'd been doing my absolute best to move on. I wasn't about to become that girl from the romance dramas—the one who spends hours staring off into the distance like she's lost something irreplaceable. I refused to let any moment define me, even if a mysterious savior had briefly disrupted my routine.
Yet, as always, Rosa noticed everything. We'd been walking to class when she broke the comfortable silence. "You good?" she asked, her tone a mix of concern and mischief. "You've been acting weird lately."
I scoffed and tried to wave off her worry. "I am never weird." I told myself that I wasn't falling into some clichéd trap of brooding over a missed connection.
"You've been spacing out. Every five minutes," she pressed, her voice low as if she knew I was keeping secrets even from myself.
I shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant. "I have things on my mind." I hoped my tone didn't betray a hint of unease.
Rosa's eyebrow arched in that way that said she wasn't buying it. "Uh-huh. And would these 'things' happen to be a person?" Her tone was teasing, yet there was a genuine concern hidden beneath it.
I rolled my eyes. I wasn't ready to admit that her question might be painfully close to the truth. Before she could press further, our PE instructor's booming voice jolted us out of the conversation.
"Starting next week, we'll begin boxing lessons!" he announced, clapping his hands to grab our attention. "You'll all need to buy hand wraps before the first session."
Boxing? I perked up immediately. The idea of a new combat discipline made my pulse quicken—not for reasons of romance or mystery, but simply because I thrived on physical challenges. As we walked out of the classroom, Rosa groaned theatrically. "Haven't we suffered enough?" she complained.
"You don't even try," I countered with a grin.
"Exactly! Why suffer when I can witness suffering instead?" she shot back, half-laughing as she shook her head.
"Coward," I teased, earning a quick smile in return. "Strategic," she corrected.
Despite her constant ribbing, I felt a surge of excitement. Any form of combat training was my element, and integrating boxing into my routine promised a refreshing change. I could almost feel the impact of every punch and the satisfying rhythm of a well-timed dodge.
After class, I dashed to the Taekwondo gym. As a black belter and a regional athlete, I was no stranger to intense training sessions. I also enjoyed the added responsibility of teaching when the instructor requested help—a role that reinforced my commitment to the art I loved. The gym was alive with the sounds of kicking, punching, and instructors' timely shouts of encouragement. Each move, every precise kick and perfectly blocked strike, felt like a reaffirmation of my identity and purpose.
Lost in the rhythm of the practice, I barely noticed the break in the pattern until Rosa's voice rang out across the gym floor. "Wrap it up, champion!" she called out, playful yet commanding.
I turned, sweat still clinging to my skin as I wiped my brow. "How long have you been standing there?" I teased.
"Long enough to see you kick a guy into next week," she replied with a smirk, clearly enjoying our banter.
I couldn't help but laugh as I grabbed my towel and followed her toward the exit. The cold night air outside was a welcome change after the stifling intensity of the gym, and it offered a brief moment to catch my breath before dinner.
Dinner with Rosa was always an exercise in balance—her endless complaints about the day contrasted with my quiet determination to appear unaffected. We found a small table at our usual diner, the lamplight casting soft shadows around us. I still felt the residual adrenaline from training, but by the time we sat down, hunger began to creep in. That is, until Rosa noticed my halfhearted attempt to devour my meal.
"You're not eating much," she observed, her tone bordering on scolding. "You literally just came from training. Shouldn't you be inhaling food like a vacuum?"
I shrugged, trying to pass off my quiet preoccupation. "Not that hungry."
But Rosa wasn't having it. "You are never 'not hungry' after practice," she said firmly, tilting her head as if she were trying to solve a puzzle with me as the missing piece.
I sighed and tried to dismiss her observation. "It's nothing, okay?"
She leaned back, stirring her drink slowly, eyes fixed intently on me as if she were scrutinizing an anomaly. "You know," she said in a measured tone, "loss of appetite is a sign of emotional distress."
At that, I almost choked on a sip of water. "What?" I managed, my voice cracking at the unexpected accusation.
"Oh, I'm just saying," Rosa continued, unfazed by my reaction. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've got something bothering you."
I swallowed hard, trying to contain the whirlwind of thoughts. "I hate you," I muttered, half in frustration and half in a resigned acknowledgment that she saw too much.
Her smirk softened into a grin. "You love me. Now spill." There was no escaping Rosa's well-honed interrogation. It was as if she held the key to unlocking every suppressed thought I had.
Defeated, I rubbed my temples and sighed. "Fine. You remember that whole locker room situation?" I asked, my voice lowering as if recounting a long-kept secret.
Rosa's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Yeah?"
"Some guy helped me out. I don't know who he is, and now he's just vanished." I said it softly, as if uttering the mystery aloud might somehow summon him back.
Rosa stared at me, her expression shifting from amusement to genuine intrigue. There was a long pause as she processed the information. Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Huh?! Wait, wait, wait—" she exclaimed, leaning in. "A mystery guy saved you? And you didn't tell me?!"
I groaned, exasperated by her dramatic reaction. "Because it's not a big deal!" I snapped, though even I wasn't entirely convinced of my own dismissiveness.
"It's very much a big deal!" Rosa insisted, her tone rising in excitement. "Who is he? What did he look like? Give me every detail!"
I hesitated, then sighed. "Look, all I know is his name—Aether. That's it."
Rosa leaned back, arms folded as she processed the name. "Aether," she repeated slowly, as if testing the sound of it on her tongue. "Sounds fake."
I managed a half-smile. "I thought so too." It wasn't as if I had any reason to believe otherwise—just the baffling truth that he had been there one moment and then gone without a trace.
Rosa took a long, dramatic sip of her drink. "Alright. Theory time." There was a glint in her eye that both exasperated and amused me.
"Go on," I muttered helplessly, already bracing myself for the barrage of wild ideas.
"First theory: he's a shadow assassin, working for some secret organization. Maybe he saved you because now you're his target turned obsession—a twist of fate only found in those cheesy spy movies you pretend not to like." She leaned forward conspiratorially.
I stared at her, incredulous. "Rosa. Be serious."
"Second theory: he's a fallen prince hiding his identity. Something about you reminded him of his lost homeland, and now destiny has plunged him into your life. I mean, come on—romance novels have taught us that much, haven't they?" She winked.
I couldn't help but laugh and then, impulsively, I tossed a fry in her direction. "Oh my god," I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief.
Rosa only cackled, clearly enjoying every moment of the game. "Third theory: he's an AI, a literal hologram, and you just hallucinated him from exhaustion!" She spread her arms dramatically.
I buried my face in my hands for a moment, feeling both ridiculous and oddly vulnerable. Then, with a more reflective tone, Rosa softened her voice. "What if he's a ghost?" she added, half-dramatically.
"Stop," I said, my frustration mixing with reluctant amusement. I expected her to keep the jokes coming, but instead, there was a moment of silence that brought me back to my own doubts.
Finally, Rosa sighed and said, "Tell me, Lynn, what do you really think? What if he's just some guy—a kind guy—who happened to be there when you needed help? Maybe his disappearance isn't part of some grand mystery, but just life being unpredictable."
I paused, considering her words. "I don't know," I admitted slowly. "It's just weird. One moment he's there, the next he's gone. It's like he was never really here at all." The thought sent a shiver down my spine, one I couldn't quite shake.
Rosa hummed thoughtfully. "Well," she said finally, taking another sip of her drink, "mystery men always seem to resurface when you least expect them. Sometimes they come back when you've moved on, and sometimes they change everything." Her eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and genuine concern.
I groaned in mock exasperation. "Please, don't turn this into some kind of conspiracy theory." Yet deep down, I wasn't entirely sure what to believe. The name Aether echoed in my mind like a distant promise of something big, something I wasn't ready to face.
"Oh, I will," Rosa declared with finality, as if sealing a pact. I couldn't help but laugh, even as I shoved another fry into my mouth in a vain attempt to escape further questioning.
As the night wore on, the diner's noise faded into the background. I sat there, feeling the weight of unanswered questions and the gentle probing of an old friend. In that small, flickering light, the mystery of Aether began to take shape—not as a grand saga, but as a quiet puzzle that might someday reveal its secrets. For now, though, I was left with nothing more than a name and a swirl of conflicting emotions.
I let the banter and laughter of the evening mask the uncertainty that lingered beneath the surface. In this moment, with Rosa's wild theories orbiting my thoughts, I felt both grounded by the familiar and tantalized by the unknown.