Val had spent the night again. At this point, I couldn't even bring myself to say, "Go ho, Val," without feeling like the world's biggest villain. Not with everything going on at her place. The thought of her walking back into that house—back into all that tension with Lucien—sat wrong with . So I let her stay. No questions, no pushback.
So, another night. Another morning. And now, another day walking into campus with her attached to my side like she belonged there.
Her hand looped through my arm, grip light but possessive. She always walked like she didn't care about the people around us, like the entire campus was her personal runway. I should've been used to it by now, but sotis I still caught myself noticing the looks we got—admiration, jealousy, whispers I didn't bother tuning into.
We'd barely made it past the main entrance when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"There you are," Marina called, striding toward us with her usual confidence. Her eyes narrowed, though her mouth twitched with amusent. "I thought maybe you two had dropped out or eloped or sothing."
Val's lips curved into a smirk. "Missed us that much, huh?"
Marina let out a gasp. "Oh, absolutely. I spent the whole night crying into my pillow. Tragic, really."
Marina tilted her head, eyes narrowing just a little. "So? What happened?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, maybe too quickly. "We were just tired."
"Uh-huh." The skepticism in her voice could've filled a lecture hall.
Val gasped softly, clutching my arm in mock offense. "Hey, don't look at like that. I would never corrupt my poor, innocent husband with scandalous activities." She blinked up at Marina with exaggerated innocence, batting her lashes for effect.
Marina snorted. "Right. Totally believable."
I dragged a hand down my face. "Okay, enough. Can we not turn this into an interrogation at the front doors? People are staring."
Val gave a little shrug, her lips quirking. "Well, at least they're getting free entertainnt."
I shot her a look, but she only grinned wider, clearly pleased with herself.
"And we're leaving before this gets worse," I muttered, steering Val toward the hallway.
Behind us, Marina chuckled under her breath, clearly entertained, but rcifully let it drop.
As we walked down the hall, Val's hand snug around my arm, I caught myself sneaking one last glance at Marina. She was already laughing with soone else, like our little run-in hadn't ant anything. For once, there wasn't that sharp edge in her eyes when they flicked my way. And maybe I was imagining it, but… it felt like she really was over . The realization hit strange—not heavy, not painful. Just… relief.
---
Classes went by in their usual rhythm—professors droning on about things I already understood, assignnts piling up in neat little lines on the board, and the occasional student pretending to take notes while actually scrolling through their phone. I kept my head down, jotting notes where it mattered, tuning in when things got technical.
Val, on the other hand, spent most of the lectures half-slouched in her chair, chin resting on her palm, eyes glazed like she was seconds away from falling asleep. When she did write, it was in short bursts, her pen racing across the page, only to be set down again like she'd solved the mystery of the universe in under two minutes.
Sotis, I honestly wondered how she did it. How she could look so utterly bored, so completely detached, and still sohow outpace the entire departnt. Celestia Valentina Moreau, the girl who made acing exams look like an afterthought.
I shouldn't have been surprised anymore, but I always was.
By the ti we made it to the cafeteria, I was relieved to see her looking normal. Her tray was full—chicken, rice, and a cup of juice balanced neatly on the side. She was eating, focused on her food for once, not pushing it around like she sotis did when her mood dipped.
Good.
I sat across from her, opening my own tray, when a sharp scrape of a chair cut through the noise around us.
Marina slid into the seat next to Val, her tray hitting the table harder than necessary. She crossed her arms on the edge of the table, her whole body radiating irritation.
"Uh…" I blinked at her sudden entrance. "Are… you okay?"
She turned her head slowly, giving a look sharp enough to slice. "What do you think?"
Val's fork froze midway to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed, defensive instantly. "Tone it down, Marina. He just asked a question."
The air tensed for a beat before Marina sighed, shoulders dropping. "Sorry." Her voice softened, almost small. Then she muttered, "It's Trent."
That got both our attention.
Val set her fork down, leaning in. "What happened?"
Marina's lips pressed into a tight line, like she didn't even want to say it out loud. "Can you believe him? He wanted to kiss . I said no, and he got mad. Walked away like… like I'd just insulted him."
I blinked, my brain imdiately deciding it wanted no part in this particular battlefield. I raised my hands in surrender. "Yeah, no. I'm keeping my hands off this one."
Marina turned to , unimpressed. "Wow. Thank you, friend. Such a pillar of support."
Val tilted her head, brows knitting. "O…kay? That's… different."
"You think?" Marina snapped, then groaned and dropped her head onto her folded arms. Her voice ca out muffled against the table. "I don't even know what to do with him."
Val glanced at , then back to Marina. "You do like him right?"
Marina peeked up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "…Why?"
Val shrugged, casual but firm. "Because that's the root of it, isn't it? If you didn't, you wouldn't care enough to be this mad."
Marina made a face, like she wanted to deny it but couldn't. "I do. I an… I like him. He's smart, he's funny sotis, and he's not an idiot—well, not usually. But… I don't know if I want it to go that far. Not yet."
Val's tone gentled. "Then you don't have to. It's not about what he wants—it's about what you're ready for. If he doesn't respect that, then maybe he's not as smart as you think."
Marina groaned again, dragging her hands down her face. "You make it sound so simple."
"That's because it is." Val reached over and tapped her arm lightly. "If he's worth it, he'll wait. If he's not, then you just dodged a bullet."
I watched them, chewing quietly on my rice, thinking maybe I could stay invisible here. But then Marina's eyes slid toward . "And you? Any pearls of wisdom, Kai?"
I almost choked. "?"
} "Yes, you. You've spent ti around Trent—probably more than I have, honestly. So… what do you think?"
Val smirked. "Careful what you say, husband."
I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for the right words. "I an… look, I'm not defending him or anything. But I don't think he was mad at you for saying no. It's more like… maybe he thought you don't like him as much as he likes you. Or worse, that you're just passing ti with him. If that's what was going through his head, then yeah—he probably felt disappointed, maybe even embarrassed. Doesn't excuse walking off, but… I can kind of see why he reacted that way."
Both girls paused. Stared at like I'd just recited so ancient proverb.
"What?" I asked, defensive.
Val blinked first. "That was... actually pretty good."
Marina tilted her head, eyes narrowing, but not unkindly. "Huh. Look at you, sounding wise all of a sudden."
Heat crept up the back of my neck. "Don't look at like that. I'm not a guru or whatever. I'm just… saying what I think."
Marina leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Still… thanks." Her lips twitched into the barest of smiles before she pushed her tray away and stood up. "I'll let you two have your al. Don't mind —just gonna sulk in one corner like the tragic heroine I am."
Val rolled her eyes. "Dramatic."
"Always." Marina gave a little wave, sarcasm laced in her voice. "Enjoy your date, lovebirds."
She walked off, tray in hand, leaving and Val staring after her.
Val shook her head, amused. "She's hopeless."
I let out a low breath, turning back to my food. "Yeah. But… at least she's talking about it."
The words slipped out before I thought too hard about them. And the second they did, I felt it—the shift.
Val went still across from . Not obvious, not dramatic. Just… still. Her fork hovered over her plate, eyes fixed on in a way that made the air feel heavier.
"You say that like it's easy," she said finally, voice low.
I blinked, caught off guard. "…That's not what I ant."
Her fork toyed with the edge of her plate, jaw tight. "Feels like it."
I dropped my gaze to my plate, the faintest edge of frustration curling under my ribs. She always did this—turned quiet things into sharp ones. "Val…"
Her eyes flicked to mine, still guarded, and for a second I thought we were about to fight—really fight. But then she gave a little shake of her head, like she was pushing it away, and forced a smirk.
"Relax, husband," she said, voice light again. "I'm not starting drama in the cafeteria. You wouldn't survive it."
I stared at her for a beat, searching her expression, but she was already stabbing another bite of food like the whole thing never happened.
Maybe I should've let it go. Maybe I should've laughed it off like she wanted to. But the way she froze when I said it—the way her tone sharpened before she smoothed it over—it stuck.
It wasn't like her to misinterpret . Not unless sothing deeper was already clawing at her.
And if a throwaway comnt could set her off like that, then whatever was eating her up was heavier than I thought.
Much heavier.
---
To be continued...
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