Celline leaned in. "Is your hand still sparking?" She wispered, nudging Nazma's shoulder. "Is it smoking yet?"
Nazma's shoulders jerked up. Her eyes flew wide as she stared at Celline with a look of pure horror.
Celline struggled to suppress her laughter until her shoulders shook. But then, she noticed Zemiro glancing their way.
She immediately covered her mouth, she feigned a cough.
"Be careful, Naz. You'll short-circuit." Celline whispered, her lips curling into a smirk.
She looked satisfied seeing Nazma's face, which was now the color of a boiled lobster.
Nazma flinched violently. Her still-trembling hand nearly knocked her pen to the floor for the second time.
Her heart pounded so loudly she feared the person beside her could hear it. With a pleading, horrific gaze, she glanced at Celline—desperately signaling for her friend to shut up—but Celline only countered with a meaningful smile that looked incredibly dangerous.
"I didn't know since when Zemiro became the 'prince' of your diary," Celline whispered again.
Her eyes gleamed with mischief, as if she had just won a lottery of secret information.
She held back her laughter until her shoulders moved up and down, making Nazma want to vanish from the face of the earth or at least hide under the desk.
"But the way he looked at you just now... that wasn't how he looks at science data, Naz."
Nazma froze. Celline's last sentence was far more shocking than Dirga's interruption.
Was Celline just implying that Zemiro was paying her the same kind of attention?
Before Nazma could respond, she felt a cold presence on her left move slowly but surely. That aura seemed to freeze the words in her throat. Zemiro was adjusting his blue mask with calm, calculated movements, yet the corner of his eye darted sharply toward the two whispering girls.
The glance was so intense, as if the "Robot" possessed hearing sensors far sharper than a normal human and had just caught a suspicious frequency signal.
Nazma held her breath, feeling caught red-handed in the most embarrassing scenario possible.
Yet, behind the crushing tension, there was something that made her chest tighten with a sense of endearment—the way Zemiro slightly tilted his head, as if he were trying hard to process the reason behind Nazma's small commotion, truly looked like a robot.
"By the way, Naz," Celline whispered again.
"You're... currently empty, right?"
Nazma turned, "What do you mean?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Yeah, that. Your heart status," Celline smirked.
"I mean, there's no other guy you're crushing on or... guarding your feelings for, right? Besides the masked prince next to us?"
"I'm not empty, Cel." Celline's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean...?"
"There's someone else." She explained, "It's not him. I already have someone I like... from long before today. An elementary school friend."
Celline reflexively glanced at Zemiro, then back to Nazma. "Are you serious, Naz?!" her voice rose an octave, though it was still hushed.
Celline leaned in closer, nearly bumping into Nazma's shoulder.
"So all this time you've been closing yourself off because you're waiting for him? Since when? Why did you never spill to me?!"
Nazma nodded slowly, "Three months."
"I just want to guard my feelings for him. So the answer is yes, my heart is full, Cel."
"Three months?! You're crazy, Naz!" Celline hissed again, gently shaking her best friend's arm.
Celline shook her head.
"What's his name?"
"Salmon."