{Elira}
~**^**~
Inside, the mall smelled faintly of polished marble, perfume and roasted coffee. The air was cool, the floor gleamed, and shop windows overflowed with silk dresses, leather shoes, and glittering displays.
We started at the jewellery section first. Lennon insisted I try on a few delicate, silver earrings and even a tiny rose-gold pair shaped like crescent moons. Under the soft lights, my red hair almost glowed, and Lennon nodded approvingly.
“Perfect,” he announced, before telling the clerk to pack them.
My cheeks burned. “But they’re expensive—”
“Shhh,” Lennon hushed me playfully. “Haven’t you learned? You are with us now.”
Next came the wristwatches. Rennon’s gaze was more discerning, thoughtful. He asked me to try three different simple designs, all elegant rather than flashy.
I realized, as I slipped the cool metal around my wrist, that my taste leaned more toward what Rennon picked: clean lines, soft curves, nothing too bright.
They paid without hesitation, each brother holding bags on one arm.
Then Rennon suggested softly, “Let’s get you more casual clothes. You will need them for weekends and after classes.”
For a second, my heart squeezed. New clothes. Not secondhand, not passed-down. Mine.
We walked to the clothing section next.
Rennon’s choices leaned toward soft knits, gentle earth tones and pale blues; Lennon’s picks were brighter, playful skirts, sweatshirts with witty prints, and cheerful colours.
Each time I tried something on, they both offered honest opinions, though Lennon’s tended to be louder.
At one point, Lennon made me hold up two dresses in front of the mirror — one he chose, one Rennon picked. “Which feels more you?” he asked.
My gaze drifted to the pale sage-green one Rennon had picked. “This one,” I whispered.
Lennon grinned and elbowed Rennon lightly. “How did you know what she likes?”
Rennon just lifted a brow. “Not everyone wants to look like a festival lantern,” he countered.
I laughed softly, my heart oddly light.
Amid the rustle of hangers and hum of shoppers, Lennon started telling stories.
“Dorm life isn’t as scary as it sounds,” he said, draping a navy hoodie over his arm. “When we were first years, Rennon refused to share a room with anyone except Zenon and me.”
Rennon glanced up, an almost embarrassed crease between his brows. “It wasn’t refusal. I preferred familiar company.”
“And Zenon,” Lennon continued, ignoring him, “used to sneak out after curfew to study in the library because the dorm was too noisy for him.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
Rennon sighed but didn’t deny it. “He needed the quiet,” he said simply.
“And me,” Lennon added with mock pride, “I organized a midnight card game that almost got us detention.”
The thought of the three of them, younger and just students like I was about to become, softened something inside me.
“And yes,” Lennon finished, looking at me, “you will probably share a room with at least two other girls. But don’t worry—you will be fine. And,” he added, softer, “if anyone tries to bully you, tell us. Or better still, tell me. I will handle it.”
Rennon cleared his throat. Then, to me, his gaze turned gentle, “Just focus on being yourself, and your studies. If there is anything, you can text us immediately.”
“Though if you must,” Lennon teased, “learn to win them, too.”
“We need to get you some dorm essentials even though ESA provides almost everything,” Rennon added quietly, “like toiletries, bed linen, maybe even a bedside lamp for late-night studying.”
I hadn’t even thought of those things.
We moved on to pick up the dorm essentials at the next store. And they got me notebooks, stationery and a lightweight suitcase for weekend breaks.
We had barely left the last checkout counter, bags heavy in Lennon’s and Rennon’s arms, when Lennon turned to me, eyes bright.
“It’s way past lunch,” he said. “And there’s no chance we’re making it back in time.”
Before I could answer, Rennon asked, quieter but firm, “Elira, what would you like to eat? It’s your choice today.”
I blinked. “Um… anything simple,” I murmured, not sure of what I wanted.
No loud music or teasing arguments this time.
Just the low hum of the car engine, the soft rustle of shopping bags, and the steady beat of my own heart.
For the first time in a long while, I felt content.
When we arrived back at the Alpha’s residence, Lennon and Rennon refused to let me carry even a single bag.
“Lead the way,” Rennon told me gently.
I guided them upstairs to my room on the second floor. They set all the bags down near my dresser, careful and deliberate.
Just as I was about to thank them, a soft knock sounded on the door.
We turned.
Zenon stood there, framed by the doorway, his expression unreadable as always, hands tucked into his trouser pockets.
Before any of us could greet him, his gaze settled on me.
“Elira,” he said, his tone flat but clear, “come to my study to fill out the Enrollment Confirmation Form. And bring your admission letter with you.”
Then he turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I blinked after him, confused. “But… aren’t I supposed to go to ESA to submit it myself?”
Lennon chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Normally, yes. But it looks like you won’t need to.”
Rennon’s gentle voice added, “Zenon will process everything for you. From home.”
My breath caught.
Zenon… was helping me. Again.
A small warmth, stubborn and unexpected, sparked quietly in my chest.

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