The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp pavement and the faint traces of brewing coffee wafting from nearby homes. The city stirred to life in the distance, a gentle hum of car engines, muffled conversations, and the rhythmic clatter of footsteps against cobblestone streets.
Sonetto Belmont sat on the small balcony just outside the dining room, her fingers wrapped around a warm mug, the heat seeping into her palms like a quiet reassurance against the lingering winter chill. Her golden-brown hair, with its neatly swept bangs, shifted slightly as a breeze wove through the air, teasing stray strands across her fair complexion. She made no effort to tuck them away, her mind elsewhere, lost in the quiet rhythm of the morning.
From her vantage point, the rooftops of neighbouring houses stretched out before her, their chimney stacks standing tall against the pale sky. Above them, birds drifted soundlessly, dark silhouettes slicing through the soft hues of dawn. The city beyond was just beginning to wake, its towering skyline bathed in a muted gold as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon.
For a fleeting moment, everything felt still. Peaceful.
Sonetto exhaled, letting the warmth of the coffee and the serenity of the early hour settle into her bones as it fights off the slight cold. It was rare—this quiet, this moment untouched by the demands of the day ahead.
Then, without warning, a sudden vibration jolted her from her thoughts.
The sharp buzz from her left blazer pocket startled her so badly that she nearly spilled coffee onto her brand-new skirt and undershirt. With a sharp inhale, she jumped back, steadying the mug just in time before letting out an exasperated sigh.
"Goddamnit..." she muttered under her breath, already cringing at how ridiculous she must have looked just now.
Setting her mug down, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The screen lit up with a message from her friend, Conner.
"Sonny, I'm at the gate, where the hell are you?!"
Sonetto groaned. Right. School. Last day of the school year. How could she have forgotten?
With one hand, she hastily typed a reply:
"I'll be there, be patient!"
The response came almost instantly.
"You'll be late for the last day of term again!"
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She glanced at the small clock on the balcony table—8:27 AM.
Her school's first bell rang at 8:35 AM.
Panic set in.
"Shit."
Grabbing her school bag—already stuffed with books, pens, protractors, and the rest of the clutter she barely organized the night before—Sonetto bolted inside. The coffee was forgotten, left to cool on the table as she hurried through the house.
As she reached the front door, something caught her eye—a note taped to the back of it.
"Don't be late for school."
Her brows furrowed. Why on the door?
She shook off the thought. No time to question it now. With one last glance at the note, she yanked the door open and took off.
The moment she stepped outside, the sunlight hit her like a punch to the face—blinding and unforgiving. She winced but didn't slow down. There was no time for that.
Weaving through the streets, she moved with practised agility, slipping between pedestrians, ducking under awnings, and cutting through alleyways where the morning shadows still lingered. The familiar rhythm of her own hurried footsteps echoed off the brick walls as she vaulted over a low fence, landing with ease before pushing forward.
To an outsider, she must have looked like the protagonist of some slasher film—bolting through the streets as if she were being chased by some unseen force. But in truth, the only thing hunting her down was time.
Sonetto had always been the athletic type. The speed at which she ran would make anyone wonder how she could ever be late for anything.
Despite her school being more than a forty-minute walk away, she managed to get there in less than eight—arriving just a minute before the first bell rang.
She came to a halt just outside the school gates, barely breaking a sweat. Her breathing was steady, her heart still beating with the rhythm of her run. Students milled about the entrance, some chatting idly, others scrambling to make it inside before the doors closed. Sonetto, however, took her time, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she stepped inside.
As she strode through the hallways, she caught glimpses of familiar faces—classmates, teachers, and the occasional under or upper-classman.
Sliding into her seat just as the final bell rang, she leaned back with a small, satisfied smile. Just another day ahead.