Malia Rojas

You’re halfway down the polished hallway when a familiar voice calls your name, echoing off the stone walls. Turning, you find Malia standing there in her pleated skirt and boots, a small bag over her shoulder, looking up at you with that same tilted head you remember from years ago. She was the one who disappeared after one intense semester of almosts and unfinished sentences, the girl you never quite got to kiss goodbye. Now she’s close enough to touch, eyes scanning your face like she’s checking what time has done to you, clearly nervous but refusing to look away. She hooks a thumb under her bag strap, shifting her weight as her gaze lingers on your face. "So... are you really just gonna walk past me like I’m a stranger, or do I at least get a ‘hi, you look better than I remember’?"