“Thank you,” I finally say, slipping my arms into the sleeves of the jacket. It’s large on my frame, hanging to midthigh. There’s also a familiar scent to it that I never fully picked up on from Ace. Now that I’m basking in it, I recognize it.

He smells like cinnamon. It’s faint, but it’s there.

Neither of us says anything as we walk, but our hands brush against each other until Ace finally reaches out and intertwines our fingers again.

I stare at our hands, unable to tear my gaze away. There’s no one here except the two of us. No one to pretend for.

By the time we find our way to my house, it’s later than I expected. The sun is slowly setting, the sky a mix of pinks, oranges, and blues.

We stop on my porch, and a sense of disappointment washes over me. I wish I could spend the entire night walking around aimlessly with Ace, comforted by our mutual silence.

But...maybe another day. Maybe there’s a balance here. Maybe I can’t pursue English, but I can have this in secret for the little time I have left.

“Well, this is it, I guess,” I say, shrugging off the leather jacket and passing it back to him. I miss its weight and smell as soon as I take it off. “Thank you for walking me home.”

Ace nods and cards his fingers through my hair one last time. I hold my breath when he leans forward and brushes his lips against my forehead. “Good night, Karina.”

“Good night, Ace,” I say, my pulse fluttering in my neck, an offbeat rhythm spurred by his touch.

I wait for him to leave and watch until he turns the corner before I slump against my door, suddenly exhausted. That wasn’t how I expected my day to go.

But maybe in the dust of lingering defeat, there’s room for some victory.

26

T-MINUS 17 DAYS

I completely give up on attending school the next morning.

After my alarm goes off, I stare at the ceiling for approximately ten seconds before I call it quits. My emotions are too overwrought to deal with people today. “Dadu!”

Not even a moment later, my grandma opens the door, her expression tinged with concern. “What’s wrong, Myra?”

“I’m not feeling well,” I say. It helps that I still look like a disaster.

Dadu makes a worried noise and comes into my room, pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. “Ya Allah, you’re burning up,” she says. Before I can say anything, she leaves, presumably to grab a thermometer.

Samir appears in my doorway, raising an eyebrow. He’s holding some kind of strange robotic contraption in his arms and has his backpack slung across his shoulder. “Ditching? Imagine what Ma and Baba will say.”