Whenever they meet in the halls Hana's hand brushes against his. It's not grab your wrist and claim what's mine. No, it's her warm hand with Junhong's, her tiny palm against his much larger one. Her fingers tangle with his and she squeezes with a smile, still holding on tight-for all to see.

And when she lets go and flashes him a look of adoration, he watches her leave and looks down at his hand where there's a tingling cool sensation where her warmth used to be. Everyone notices.