The final day of sophomore year arrived with surprising normalcy—students packing dormitory rooms, families arriving for pickup, faculty coordinating the organized chaos of academic year conclusion. But after everything that had happened, normal felt dangerous, like the calm before another storm that would inevitably break over our heads.
Alexander had suggested we make one final public appearance together before summer separation, a unified demonstration that despite family opposition, arson attacks, and systematic pressure campaigns, our relationship had survived intact.
"This is going to create media attention," I warned him as we prepared to walk through the main academy entrance where parents, press, and various observers typically gathered during move-out day.
"That's the point. W
