It had only been a few days since she left, and already, my room felt bigger. Too big. Too quiet. My bed looked untouched even though I’d slept in it every night. My pillow still slled faintly like her shampoo, like she had left a ghost of herself just to ss with .
I thought it would feel like a break. A chance to catch my breath. A chance to read without soone crawling onto my lap and distracting with kisses, or whining into my ear until I gave in.
Instead, it just felt...wrong.
I found myself checking my phone too often, scrolling through ssages she hadn’t sent yet, half-expecting her to appear from behind my door even though she wasn’t anywhere near.
Of course, Celestia wouldn’t let miss her in peace.
The first call ca that sa night. I had barely settled into my desk, pretending to focus on a book, when my screen lit up with her na. Video call. I should have ignored it—she was the one who promised she "hated" for making her leave—but when it ca to her, I was weak.
"Hey, husband." Her face filled my screen before I even greeted her, hair ssy, pajamas slipping off her shoulder. She was lying in bed, kicking her feet lazily against the sheets. "Miss yet?"
I blinked at her. "You’re the one who said you hated ."
"Yeah, but hate is a love word if you say it with enough passion." She rolled over dramatically, propping her chin on her hand. "So? Do you?"
I didn’t answer. Which was apparently the wrong move because she pouted at like a professional manipulator.
"You do," she decided for . "I can see it in your eyes."
And that set the tone for the rest of the week.
Every day, she called. Sotis twice. Sotis three tis. Always video, never just voice. Always chaotic.
By midweek, she had taken to "video-bombing" at the worst tis. Reading? Suddenly she was on my screen. Eating? She demanded to know what I was having, then sulked if I didn’t say I missed her cooking.
Once, she called while I was half-asleep and startled awake by yelling, "BOO!" into the cara, then laughing until she cried.
But the most dangerous calls were the ones where she was clearly trying to kill .
Like the night she answered wearing what looked like—nothing.
"Val—"
"Relax," she smirked, shifting the phone so I could only see her shoulders and up. "I’m not naked. Just... lightly clothed."
"Lightly clothed isn’t a thing."
"It is when I say it is. Wanna see?" Her hand moved like she was about to lower the cara.
"Don’t—" My voice cracked, and she grinned like the demon she was.
"See? This is why I love you. You panic so cute. I was gonna flash you, but then I rembered—you made leave. So, nope." She tossed her hair back and leaned closer to the screen. "You don’t get to see."
I groaned into my hand.
She was rciless. Another ti, she spent half the call sprawled on her bed with a lollipop, slowly twirling it in her mouth just to watch squirm.
"Is this helping your concentration?" she asked innocently.
"Not at all."
> "Perfect."
But even with her chaos, there were monts that slipped past her teasing.
Like when she fell asleep mid-call, phone still balanced on her chest, breathing slow and even. I watched her longer than I should have, the quiet filling the space where her voice usually was.
Or when she randomly whispered, "I wish I was still there," before quickly changing the subject to distract from how soft her voice had gotten.
And ? I’d act annoyed. I’d pretend she was too much. But inside...I was grateful. Because the truth was, without her constant chaos lighting up my screen, this room would have swallowed whole.
---
The campus felt different after a month away. Students crowded the walkways, buzzing with the usual first-day energy, as if the weight of exams and rankings hadn’t nearly killed us all just a few weeks back.
I adjusted my bag higher on my shoulder and spotted Marina by the steps of the lecture hall, already clutching a stack of books like she was heading to war. Sa old Marina. She hadn’t changed a bit.
"Kai!" she called, waving over.
I sighed. "Morning."
She grinned. "Morning. You look like soone dragged you here against your will."
"Because soone did. Myself."
"Still dramatic." She nudged lightly with an elbow as I joined her by the railing. "So... second place, huh?"
I gave her a look. "Nice to see you too, Marina."
She laughed. "No, really. I can’t believe it. You, second? To your girlfriend of all people? That’s like... a cosmic joke."
I rubbed the back of my neck, pretending it didn’t sting as much as it had when the results first ca out. "Yeah, tell about it."
"You know, I would have guessed she was smart, but not that smart. What did she even get, anyway?"
"4.95," I muttered.
Marina froze mid-step. "...You’re kidding."
"Do I look like I’m kidding?"
Her mouth fell open, then shut again as she processed that. "Okay, no. That’s illegal. People don’t just... get 4.95. I worked my ass off for that 4.61, and I thought I was doing amazing. But your girlfriend? She’s a monster."
"Not a monster," I said automatically, then paused. "...Okay, maybe a little bit of a monster."
Marina laughed so hard she nearly dropped her books. "I swear, Kai, you sound like you’re both terrified of her and in love with her at the sa ti."
"Because I am," I said flatly.
That only made her laugh harder.
She leaned against the railing, still shaking her head. "No, seriously. It’s actually unfair. How is she that unhinged and that smart? Like, the universe usually balances people out—you know, hot but dumb, smart but boring, rich but ugly. Your girlfriend breaks all the rules."
I raised a brow. "Are you complinting her or insulting her?"
} "Both. At once."
"Figures."
We stood there for a bit, students streaming past us into the building. Marina kept up her usual rambling about courses and professors, throwing in sarcastic remarks about how she was already dreading thesis prep, and asking if I’d seen the new reading lists yet. It felt weirdly normal.
But then she leaned closer, lowering her voice. "So... what’s it like? Dating her?"
I shot her a look. "What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one. Don’t get wrong, I respect your boundaries—she made sure of that," Marina added quickly, rolling her eyes. "But seriously, what’s it like dating soone that... intense?"
I thought about it for a second. About Celestia barging into my space like she owned it, whining until I gave in, pouting like a spoiled kid one mont and holding like I was her entire world the next.
"...Exhausting," I admitted.
Marina chuckled. "Exhausting good or exhausting bad?"
"Both. At once."
She snorted. "Wow, you’re so in love it’s embarrassing."
I ignored her, adjusting my bag again.
Before she could tease further, the atmosphere around us shifted. I didn’t even need to look up—I could feel it. Heads turned. Conversations paused.
And then I heard her voice.
> "Hey."
Celestia walked into the hall like she’d been gone for a year and the universe had been waiting for her return. Hair perfect, eyes sharp, expression soft—but only for .
She didn’t even glance at Marina at first. She walked straight to , slid her arm through mine like it belonged there, and then finally turned her head.
"Hi," she said to Marina with a smile that was way too sweet to be genuine.
Marina, to her credit, didn’t flinch. She smiled back. "Hi."
Celestia’s eyes lingered on her for just a second longer than necessary before she turned back to . Her whole face softened, lips curving into sothing dangerously smug.
> "Morning, husband."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Really?"
"Yes, really," she chirped, leaning just a little closer, like she knew exactly what she was doing.
Marina raised her brows. "Husband?"
Celestia tilted her head, smile still fixed. "Didn’t you know? We’re basically married."
I muttered, "That’s not how that works," but she ignored completely.
Marina chuckled, shaking her head. "Well... congratulations, I guess. I’ll leave you two to it. See you in class, Kai."
She walked off, calm as ever, and I watched her go with relief.
Celestia, anwhile, looked like she had just won a battle. She squeezed my arm tighter, still smiling up at .
"Subtle," I said dryly.
"Thank you," she replied, all faux-innocence.
---
The lecture hall was already filled with its usual restless murmur, notebooks flipping open, laptops tapping, whispers carrying across rows. Celestia had just finished throwing a victorious smirk for calling husband in front of Marina, and now she was sitting smugly beside like she owned the place—and maybe she did.
Professor Halifax cleared his throat at the front, glasses slipping down his nose as he adjusted his slides. "Before we begin today’s lecture..."
The words dragged every head up, mine included. Professors didn’t normally stall like this unless sothing unusual was happening.
"...the Dean has asked to pause class briefly for a special introduction." He continued.
That got everyone buzzing. You didn’t just get the Dean himself walking into an undergrad lecture hall.
And then he did. Dean Harrington—straight-laced, stone-faced, and very much the kind of man who would never waste ti on sothing like a student transfer—walked in. He paused at the podium, sweeping the room with a cool gaze before stepping slightly aside.
Behind him, she entered.
Long blonde hair tied high into a sleek ponytail that shimred under the fluorescent lights, expensive black blazer fitted sharp over her fra, plaid skirt just rebellious enough to look like she’d tailored the uniform code around herself. And boots—thigh-high leather boots clicking with every unapologetic step. She didn’t just walk into the room; she arrived.
The hall went silent, heads turning, whispers swallowing into stunned breaths.
"This is Avery Brooke Prescott," Dean Harrington said, his tone clipped but careful, like the na carried weight. "She is transferring into our institution beginning this sester. I expect you all to treat her with the sa respect as any of your peers."
Transferring. Mid-year. The exact way Celestia had.
The irony wasn’t lost on —and it definitely wasn’t lost on Celestia.
From the corner of my eye, I caught her head tilt, lips pressing into sothing between a smirk and a challenge as she watched Avery walk to the front with the kind of confidence you couldn’t fake. Avery didn’t look at the Dean, didn’t look at the professor, didn’t even look at the hundreds of staring faces. No—her gaze drifted across the rows, calculating, assessing... like she was already mapping out the kingdom she intended to claim.
The Dean finished his pointless speech, Professor Halifax cleared his throat awkwardly, and Avery was told to find an open seat. She didn’t hurry. She didn’t need to. She took her ti scanning the hall like it was a runway, before casually sliding into an empty desk near the middle, crossing one leg over the other with practiced elegance.
The murmurs started again, rising like a tide.
Celestia leaned closer to , her nails brushing my arm as she whispered under her breath, almost too sweetly.
> "Oh... this is going to be fun."
I exhaled slowly, already knowing that tone too well.
Fun, in Celestia Valentina Moreau’s dictionary, usually translated to: chaos incoming.
And now, with a blonde version of her sitting three rows away, I had a sinking feeling this sester was about to be the longest of my life.
---
To be continued...
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