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Loid sat at his desk, phone in hand, face tight with frustration. Despite his best efforts, the tickets to the Spy Wars premiere had slipped through his fingers—his colleague Jonnas had promised to give them to him, but he had decided to go with his new wife last minute.
Anya stood in the doorway, her Spy Wars manga pressed to her chest. She knew something was wrong the moment she saw the tension in her dad’s shoulders.
''Papa?'' she said softly, stepping inside.
Loid looked up and gave her a tired smile. ''Hey, kiddo. Come sit with me.''
Anya settled beside him, her fingers fiddling nervously with the corner of her shirt.
''I'm so sorry, Anya,'' his voice was quiet, full of regret. ''I tried. I really did. But the tickets... someone else got them.''
Anya’s shoulders slumped a little, her bright eyes dimmed with disappointment. ''Oh…''
''I even contacted some of my coworkers back in WISE, but it was no use.'' Loid reached out and ruffled her hair gently. ''I'm so sorry. I hate to let you down.''
Anya shook her head, still smiling softly. The fact that he had put himself in danger by contacting his former agency, just to try to get her those tickets... Anya knew that his father had done everything he could. ''No, dad. You didn’t. At all. Sometimes these things just don’t work out,'' she blinked back the first hint of tears. ''Thanks for trying, Papa. That means a lot.''
Loid pulled her into a hug. ''We’ll find another way to have fun, I promise. Maybe a Spy Wars marathon at home?''
Anya sniffled but laughed quietly. ''Yeah. That sounds pretty great.''
They sat there for a moment, the weight of disappointment softened by the comfort of each other’s presence.
The next morning, Anya stepped onto the school grounds, her usual spark a little dimmer. The courtyard buzzed with chatter and laughter, but inside, her excitement felt like a flickering candle struggling against the wind.
Becky spotted her first, lounging under the courtyard tree with Bill and George nearby. Anya’s usual bright smile was missing, replaced by a quietness that didn’t go unnoticed.
Becky nudged Bill and shot George a worried glance. ''Hey, look at Anya. What’s wrong with her?''
George shrugged. ''Maybe she’s just tired.''
But Becky wasn’t convinced. When Anya sat down beside her before their first lesson, Becky leaned in, lowering her voice and stroking her friend's arm. ''Hey, are you okay? You look kinda... off today.''
Anya gave her a small, grateful smile but shook her head gently. ''I’ll tell you later, Becky. Promise.''
Becky nodded, sensing it wasn’t the time. ''Okay. I’m here when you’re ready.''
Across the room, Damian’s eyes flicked to Anya. He noticed the subtle slump in her shoulders, the quiet that seemed to cling to her. During the lesson, he quickly scribbled a note and, with their classmates help, managed to deliver it onto her desk.
Are you okay? Did something happen?
Anya glanced down at the paper, her heart lifting a little. She scribbled back:
I’ll tell you during lunch. Just you and me, okay?
She folded the note carefully and passed it back, a small secret shared between them. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
The lunch break buzzed softly around the courtyard, but beneath the sprawling branches of the old oak tree, Anya and Damian sat side by side, a quiet island amid the lively crowd. Their friends lingered nearby, exchanging worried glances. Anya’s usual bright energy was noticeably dimmed, and even Becky, Bill, Emile, George, and Ewen couldn’t help but watch her with concern.
Becky nudged Bill, whispering, ''She’s still upset. Something’s definitely wrong.''
Bill nodded slowly. ''And Damian’s sitting with her like he’s trying to figure out how to help.''
Becky nodded. Part of her was a little upset that Anya hadn't told her first, but deep down she knew she was still her best friend, and that Anya knew she could always count on her.
Damian’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Anya. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this—her smile usually lit up every room, and now her eyes looked distant, clouded with disappointment.
Finally, after a long silence, Anya spoke, her voice soft and hesitant. ''My dad... didn’t get the tickets for the premiere.''
Damian blinked, taken aback. ''Oh...''
Anya nodded slowly, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. ''He tried so hard. Called so many people, pulled every string he could find. But the person who was supposed to give him the tickets is going to use them instead.''
She swallowed hard, and a flicker of sadness crossed her face. Damian watched her carefully, sensing the weight she carried.
Anya glanced up at him, her voice trembling slightly. ''I’m sorry for making you worry. I didn’t want you to think it was something worse.''
Damian reached out, gently covering her hand with his. ''Hey, don’t apologize for that. I'm glad nothing worse happened, but that doesn't mean you don't have the right to be upset.'' He paused, searching for the right words. ''Honestly, I was just surprised because I know your dad’s a big deal. He’s one of the best psychiatrists in Berlint, and he’s got a lot of influence. I thought for sure he’d get those tickets for us.''
Anya’s lip quivered, and before she could stop it, tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back quickly but the tremble in her voice gave her away.
''I’m really sorry… for getting your hopes up and then disappointing you,'' she whispered, her voice breaking.
''Anya—,'' Damian squeezed her hand, his expression softening with understanding. ''You didn’t disappoint me at all. You could never disappoint me.'' He shifted closer, giving her a reassuring smile. ''I was looking forward to the premiere, sure. I mean... I consider myself a pretty decent Spy Wars fan, thanks to you.'' He winked at her, and she laughed. ''But the truth is, I just wanted to spend time with you.'' His voice lowered, gentle but firm. ''It doesn’t matter where we go or what we do. The tickets or no tickets—what matters is being together. That’s the important part.''
Anya’s shoulders shook slightly as she wiped a tear away. Damian’s steady presence made it easier to let the sadness out.
''We’ll have other chances, other adventures,'' he added with a hopeful grin. ''And honestly? I feel really lucky you chose me to be your guest. That means a lot.''
Anya’s eyes met his, shining through the tears now, and a genuine, shy smile bloomed. ''Thank you,'' she leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and understood. ''And of course I chose you to come with me. I mean, you're almost a better Spy Wars fan than me.''
''That means a lot coming from you,'' Damian teased as Anya wiped her last tear, her head still resting lightly on his shoulder.
''You know,'' he said, feigning seriousness, ''if I am almost a better Spy Wars fan than you, maybe I should be the one teaching you about it.''
Anya snorted. ''Please. You didn’t even know Bondman’s real name until last week.''
''Hey, that was a trick question and you know it!''
She grinned up at him, her spark slowly returning. ''Guess we’ll just have to marathon the whole series so you can catch up.''
Damian smiled, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. ''Only if you promise not to quiz me every five minutes.''
''No promises, Sy-on boy.''
He groaned. ''What have I gotten myself into?''
Nearby, Becky caught Bill’s eye and whispered, ''They’re definitely something special.''
Bill nodded quietly. ''Yeah, you can see it in how he looks at her.''
Becky smirked back. ''Looks like our ship is about to sail, Watkins.''
Under the oak tree, with the world humming softly around them, Anya and Damian sat quietly, the disappointment of the lost tickets fading into the warmth of a moment that felt like the start of something new.