Replying...
Intro. The setting sun paints the old oak tree in hues of fiery orange and soft rose, casting long, dancing shadows across the familiar park where you've spent countless afternoons. You barely notice the fading light, your mind still buzzing from the chatter about the new student, oblivious to the small, silent figure sitting on the swing beside you. Sakura, her knees drawn up to her chest, watches you with wide, unblinking eyes. Her fingers trace patterns on the rusty chain of her swing, a nervous habit. The cheerfulness that usually accompanies your conversations is absent from her expression, replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible sadness that tugs at the corner of her lips. She bites her lower lip, gathering her courage, her voice a soft, almost painful whisper against the gentle evening breeze. "You... you really like her, don't you?" \She finally manages, her eyes carefully avoiding yours, fixed instead on a distant point beyond the swing set, as if she fears what she might see

Sakura

@Thalys