Mondays had a way of testing patience. The air always felt heavier, like the weekend had slipped too fast through everyone’s fingers and now we were all being punished for it.
I got to school early. I usually did. Not because I liked Mondays more than the next guy, but because it was habit. Order. My mornings always played out the sa way—leave the house before the streets really filled, beat the rush, and let the silence of the empty hallways do the work of waking up.
Except this morning, the silence wasn’t completely mine.
I spotted Marina up ahead, leaning against the wall by the lecture hall doors, talking to soone. At first I didn’t pay attention—her voice carried when she got animated, and it wasn’t unusual for her to corner whoever she caught first thing. But then I noticed who she was with.
Trent.
Of all people.
I slowed a little, careful not to make it obvious I was watching. They were standing close—not too close, but closer than casual. Her arms were folded, his hand awkwardly running down the back of his neck every other second. They looked like they’d been at it for a few minutes before I showed up.
I didn’t step in. Didn’t say anything. Just kept walking, bag slung over my shoulder, the usual.
But then Marina’s gaze flicked up, locking on , sharp and deliberate. It wasn’t an accident. She wanted to see.
A second later, she started walking my way. And she wasn’t coming alone. Trent trailed behind her, looking like a guy who’d rather be anywhere else but was forcing himself to stay put.
I slowed my steps, leaned against the wall, and waited.
"Hey..." Trent’s voice ca out low, rough, like he’d been chewing the words for a while and finally spat them out. He scratched the back of his head again. "Kai."
I raised my brows, glanced at Marina. She gave a look—a very don’t be an idiot right now kind of look.
So I looked back at Trent.
He cleared his throat. "Look, I just—uh. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For being a jerk."
That was it. No fancy speech, no buildup. Just the words, plain and clipped, like he wanted them over with.
I let the silence hang for a beat, then nodded. "Cool. Glad you finally noticed."
His mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure if I was joking or gearing up for round two. But then he huffed a small laugh, relief sliding across his face.
I let the sarcasm hang there on purpose. Sotis with guys, that’s all it took—a jab, but a light one, so the edge ca off whatever weight was left.
Trent stuck his hand out. "Truce?"
I glanced at Marina again. She was watching both of us like a referee who didn’t trust her players.
I smirked, gripped Trent’s hand, gave it one solid shake. "Truce."
Simple as that.
It was weird how easy so walls ca down once soone finally decided to take a hamr to them.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaned against the locker. "So, uh... are you two, like..." I gestured between them. "...a thing now?"
Marina didn’t hesitate. She nodded, chin high like she was daring to say sothing about it.
Trent, on the other hand, didn’t flinch or look away. He just gave a small shrug, hands loose at his sides, like he was owning it. Confident. Straightforward. Classic QB.
"Good for you," I said, and I ant it.
Trent shifted his weight, looked over at Marina. "We should... y’know, grab that thing before class."
She nodded. "Right. Coming." Then, to , "See you later."
And just like that, they were gone, walking down the hallway together. Not too close, not too far, but enough that the ssage was clear.
I watched them go, a small smile tugging at my mouth. Finally. The tension was gone.
It felt... lighter. Like a storm that had been brewing too long had finally burned itself out.
I leaned back against the locker again, exhaled, and let myself enjoy that tiny victory. It wasn’t mine, not really, but it ant fewer battles to fight on all sides. Marina was happy. Trent was... trying. And I didn’t have to play the middle anymore.
That’s when she walked in.
The air shifted. It always did with her.
Val.
She didn’t just enter a room—she claid it. Her heels clicked against the floor, steady and sure, her hair catching the morning light spilling in through the glass doors. It was automatic—the way every head turned, every conversation paused for a second too long.
Her eyes found in seconds. And suddenly, all the noise, all the eyes, all the heaviness of Monday morning... didn’t matter.
She walked straight over, a small, knowing smile on her lips.
"Morning, husband," she said, voice light, playful, but threaded with sothing softer underneath.
And just like that, my mood—which was already good from the whole Marina-Trent thing—brightened even more.
Like the chaos she carried didn’t just stir trouble. Sotis, it steadied too.
And I wasn’t about to complain.
---
We made our way to class together, Val slipping into her usual stride beside like she belonged there—which, at this point, she did. We’d carved out our own little space in the back row, two desks that might as well have had our nas etched into them by now.
She dropped into her chair, bag hitting the floor with a soft thud, then turned toward like I was already supposed to entertain her.
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms lazily. "Guess what?"
Her head tilted, dark brown hair sliding across her shoulder, eyes narrowing at like she was trying to read the answer off my face. "What?"
I smirked. "That’s not how it works. You’re supposed to guess."
She groaned, dragging it out, the kind of sweet little whine she used whenever she wanted to give in. "Kai..."
I dragged a hand down my face, groaning louder. "Why is it that whenever you do this, suddenly I’m the one who has to guess everything?"
Her lips curved into a grin, voice lifting into that sing-song lilt she pulled out whenever she wanted to win. "Because I’m a girl. A very pretty one."
The second part ca out softer, almost cute enough to make laugh. Which I did—quietly, shaking my head. "You’re impossible."
Her grin widened like she’d just scored a point. "So? Are you gonna tell it or not?"
"Fine," I said, pretending she’d wrung it out of . I leaned closer, lowering my voice like it was so kind of big reveal. "Marina and Trent. They’re a thing now."
Her eyebrows lifted, but only slightly. Not exactly shock.
"You don’t look surprised," I said.
"I am surprised!" She straightened in her seat, then widened her eyes like she was performing for . "See?"
Then she gasped, hand to her mouth like it was an afterthought.
I narrowed my eyes. "You already knew, didn’t you?"
Her lips twitched before she caved, giggling. "Marina texted on the way here."
I groaned, letting my head fall back against the chair. "Unbelievable."
Her laughter bubbled out, light and sweet, filling the quiet classroom before everyone else piled in. "But," she added, leaning her elbow on her desk, chin in her palm, "I still preferred hearing it from you."
That caught off guard. My chest ward in a way I wasn’t ready for, and before I could stop it, a smile pulled at my lips.
Her eyes flicked to it instantly, sly. "You’re blushing."
"I’m not," I shot back, maybe too fast.
"You are." Her grin turned smug. "It’s cute."
I rolled my eyes, but it only made her giggle harder. She had that look—the one that said she knew exactly how far she could push before I broke.
The professor ca in a few minutes later, setting his notes on the desk with the usual heavy sigh. The room settled, notebooks opening, pens scratching—but none of it really reached .
Val had already pulled out her notebook, only to abandon it two seconds later to start doodling in the corner. Not neat doodles either—swirls, tiny hearts, little squiggles that looked more like daydreams than notes.
When my pen rolled toward the edge of my desk, she snatched it without missing a beat.
"Hey," I whispered.
She leaned her chin into her palm, eyes flicking toward with a grin. "What? Sharing is caring."
I shook my head, biting back a smile. "You’re impossible."
"You already said that." She twirled the pen in her fingers, tongue peeking out just slightly in concentration, like the world’s most unserious thief.
I let her keep it. Watching her hum under her breath, tapping the pen against her notebook while pretending to listen to the lecture, was sohow better than anything the professor was saying anyway.
And just like that, the classroom faded around us.
Because no matter what kind of weight the day tried to stack on , she always had this way of cutting through it.
And right now, with her smiling at like this, I couldn’t ask for more.
Even if I had no idea about the storms she hid behind that smile.
---
To be continued...
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