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Chapter 19 - WHAT WE LOST ALONG THE WAY

The sky hung low and heavy over campus, a blanket of gray that mirrored the weight in Suzie's chest. She sat alone at one of the café tables where she and Walter usually met, clutching the strap of her purse a little too tightly. Her nerves were obvious—no matter how hard she tried to hide them.

Walter should've been here by now.

She glanced at her phone. Fifteen minutes past the time they'd agreed on. Her fingers tapped against the table, eyes scanning the crowd of students walking by. Some glanced her way, probably wondering why the cheerleader was sitting alone. Normally, there was one person who was always close by.

Walter.

She pressed her lips together, trying to quiet the unease stirring in her chest. This wasn't the first time he'd been late. Not the first time she sat here, wondering if he'd show or if he'd just send another one of those texts.

'Sorry, something came up. Let's just do tomorrow, okay?'

Tomorrow. And then tomorrow would just become another tomorrow. Over and over again.

She sighed and took a sip of her drink, which had already gone flat and flavorless, when hurried footsteps finally approached.

"Sorry I'm late," Walter said, slightly out of breath. He slid into the seat beside her like it was no big deal, as if the words were enough to erase his lateness.

Suzie didn't say anything at first. She looked at him, then away—back to her drink. The irritation she'd been holding in started to bubble up again. This had happened too many times. Too many times she'd let it slide. Too many times she'd tried to be understanding.

"Why?" she asked quietly, her voice calmer than she expected.

Walter blinked. "Why what?"

She stirred her drink with the straw before meeting his gaze. "Are we still okay?"

He froze, clearly not expecting that.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Suzie forced a small smile. "Lately you've been... distant. I hardly see you anymore."

Walter sighed and set his phone down on the table. "That's what happens when we're in different majors, right? But I am making time for you."

"Are you? Or is something else going on?"

He hesitated, cleared his throat. "Suzie, we're still together. I'm not going anywhere."

She swallowed hard. She wanted to believe him. But the way he said it—it felt hollow. Detached.

"Maybe I'm just being dramatic," she murmured.

Walter smiled faintly, but it wasn't the same smile he used to give her. Something about it felt... off.

Time passed, but the silence between them no longer felt comfortable. They still met, still had their dates, but their conversations had gaps now. And every time he smiled, Suzie felt something inside her slowly slipping away.

On Walter's end, he wasn't clueless either. He knew something had changed. He just didn't know what to do about it. All he knew was that something felt missing. Something that used to make things feel warm… now felt cold.

Suzie, on the other hand, kept trying to hold onto whatever was left. She invited him out more often, held his hand more, sought his attention more. But even with all that, it still didn't feel like enough.

Still, she didn't want to believe it was them. No, in her mind, this wasn't about them—this was about Lyra.

Yes, Lyra.

The girl who had always been right there between them. Sure, Arlo had been part of their circle too, but Suzie was convinced it was Lyra who played the bigger role in whatever was breaking between her and Walter. Things had shifted even more after Lyra left the group, and Suzie could feel it.

Even Arlo noticed.

One afternoon, Suzie had watched from afar as Arlo found Walter sitting alone on a bench near the edge of campus. His eyes were locked on his phone, lost in thought like he wasn't really there.

Arlo didn't ask permission. He just sat beside him.

"Trouble with Suzie?" he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.

Walter didn't answer right away. He exhaled, then lazily locked his phone and slid it into his pocket.

"Don't know," he said simply. And he meant it.

Arlo leaned back, eyes scanning Walter's face—he looked tired. Not just physically, but... somewhere deeper.

"I thought you guys were solid. Lately, though, you've looked... off."

Again, Walter didn't respond. He rubbed his hands down his face like he was trying to sort through a mess in his head.

"I feel like something's wrong," he admitted quietly. "Suzie's still the same, but… I don't know. I feel like I lost something."

Arlo looked at him sideways. "You mean… you lost Lyra?"

Walter stiffened.

Not because he was surprised—but because he knew that wasn't just a wild guess.

He wanted to deny it. To wave it off. But the words caught in his throat.

Arlo gave a faint smile—sympathetic, not smug. "Y'know… I always felt like you never really saw her."

Walter frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arlo let out a slow breath, eyes flicking up to the cloudy sky before settling back on his friend. "She was always there, wasn't she? Always tagging along, walking behind you two, always showing up no matter how she felt. And because she was always there, you never stopped to think what it'd be like if she wasn't. Now she's gone. And it's like… you finally noticed."

Walter's jaw tightened. The words stung more than he expected.

"I didn't have feelings for Lyra," he said—though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else.

Arlo shrugged. "I never said you did." He leaned forward a little. "But as a friend… did you ever treat her the way she deserved?"

A simple question. But it hit hard enough to leave Walter speechless.

Maybe he and Suzie had never really paid attention. When they had what they wanted—the fun, the moments, the comfort of their little trio—they never stopped to think how it felt for someone on the outside looking in. Lyra had always been there. And maybe… they just assumed she always would be.

That was their mistake.

Walter let out a slow breath and leaned his head back against the bench.

And somewhere else, Suzie was feeling it too.

She couldn't lie to herself—she knew something was unraveling. She knew she was losing her grip.

And she wasn't going to let that happen.

Her hands curled into fists at the thought of the person she blamed for all this—him. The one who had "stolen" Lyra, twisted her into someone who would walk away from the friendships she used to treasure.

Robin.

She wouldn't let him take Lyra away from them. She wouldn't let him ruin what they had. And she definitely wouldn't let him change Walter like this.

Somehow… she'd fix it.

Whatever it took.

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Weekend finally rolled around. Right on the dot at ten, Robin pulled into Lyra's driveway.

He parked in the garage and hopped out to grab her bag. Lyra was dressed in this oversized cream sweater that looked ridiculously cozy, a midi skirt, and white sneakers. Cute, casual—very her. Her hair was down, clipped lazily at the side like she hadn't tried too hard, but still managed to look good.

The moment they stepped inside, Lyra gave the place another once-over. Second time here, and it still felt unreal.

"There's seriously no one else home?" she asked, a little hesitant.

Robin laughed. "You're still on edge? Relax. My parents are at work, but some of the maid are around."

"Maid? Pretty sure there was no one here on New Year's."

"Well, yeah. It was the holidays. They get time off too. My parents only really need them when they're swamped with work. Most of the time, they like doing things themselves."

Lyra nodded, still taking it all in. "So… what do we do first?" she asked, glancing at him while he shrugged off his jacket.

He smiled. "We could just hang for a bit. Or, wanna do a little house tour?"

She laughed under her breath. "Sure, why not?"

Robin threw her a sly look. "Wanna see my room?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why did you say it like that?"

He played it cool, but there was definitely a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Just thought you might be curious. Y'know, where I sleep. Every night."

"I—I'm really not that curious," she mumbled, already flustered.

Robin leaned against the wall, grinning. "You sure? Might be hard getting you out once you're in."

Lyra gave him a look. "If your room's a disaster, I'll be out before you even notice."

"Wow. You think I'm messy? Rude. My room is actually spotless, thanks."

She shot him a skeptical glance, then walked ahead. "Guess we'll find out."

"Oh? So you are coming to my room?" he called after her, smirking.

She huffed. "I changed my mind."

Robin laughed quietly, clearly entertained. "Alright, alright. House tour it is."

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After a quick tour of the place, they landed on the couch in the living room, snacking on whatever the house staff had brought from the kitchen. The vibe was chill. Easy. Like they'd done this a hundred times before.

They talked about their childhoods—random stories, weird hobbies, the dumb stuff they used to do when they were little. The kind of conversation that made everything feel... closer.

Robin mentioned how shy he used to be. Like, painfully shy. Always second-guessing himself, always overthinking.

Lyra listened, quietly taking it in. It hit her then—just how far he'd come. The boy in front of her wasn't just charming and confident. He'd earned it. He'd worked through stuff. And that made everything he was now even more... real.

Of course, Robin couldn't resist poking at her a little.

"So, I'm guessing you were the spoiled one," he said with a teasing smile.

"I was not spoiled," she grumbled.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Please. I can totally picture little-you throwing a fit if someone didn't give you candy."

Instead of getting annoyed, she laughed. "Joke's on you. I liked ice cream way more than candy."

Robin nodded, mock serious. "Okay, noted. So next time you're mad at me, I'll just show up with ice cream."

Their conversation kept rolling like that, effortlessly, until Lyra's curiosity got the better of her.

"Hey... Robin. Have you ever had a girlfriend before?"

He looked at her for a beat, then smirked. "Why? You jealous?"

"Of course not!" she shot back way too fast—her face already turning pink.

Robin burst out laughing. "Oh yeah? What if I told you there were a lot?"

She gave him a warning look. "Robin."

He held up his hands. "Just kidding. There was someone. But it didn't last long."

The energy shifted a little. His voice softened, and for a second, he looked like he was somewhere else entirely.

"She wasn't... great. Said a lot of awful things. Stuff that really got in my head. Made me feel like crap about myself. I think that's part of why it's hard for me to open up now."

Lyra didn't say anything at first. She could've thrown shade at that girl. Could've called her every name in the book. But she didn't.

Instead, she reached out and took his hand.

"Well," she said quietly, "I'm here now. And with me, you don't have to hold back. Say what you feel. Be whoever you want to be. Just like you told me."

Robin looked at her—really looked—and something in him softened. That wall he always kept up? Yeah, it cracked a little.

He smiled, warm and slow, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

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"What now?" Arlo asked flatly.

The girl across from him scoffed and crossed her arms. "What's with the attitude? Are you seriously lumping me in with Walter now? I thought we were still friends."

Arlo let out a slow breath, already guessing where this was headed. "If you dragged me out here just to rant about Walter again, go ahead. But after that, I'm gone. I'm not getting sucked into your drama anymore."

It was supposed to be his weekend off. Instead, here he was, sitting in a quiet café across from someone who clearly didn't understand boundaries.

"It's not about Walter." Suzie leaned back in her chair. "It's about Lyra."

That got his attention.

"Lyra?"

"Yeah… I heard she's dating that communication major."

Arlo shrugged. "She is."

Suzie went quiet for a moment, like she was still processing the news. But Arlo had known her long enough to recognize the shift in her expression. Something was brewing.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned. His voice had that edge—calm, but not soft.

Suzie turned to him, eyes flashing. "Since when did that even happen? Am I seriously the last one to know?"

"Maybe? You've been busy, haven't you? Classes, cheerleading, your whole schedule…"

"Yeah, yeah, all that," she muttered, exhaling hard. "So he really went for it, huh? And Lyra just… said yes?"

Arlo tilted his head, watching her more closely now. "You sound really pissed at Robin."

"Of course I'm pissed! He just waltzed in, messed with her head, and now she's pulled away from all of us. That's what ruined everything—including me and Walter!"

Arlo frowned. "Wait. What?"

"Tch. Whatever," Suzie snapped. "Point is—I'm not letting him take Lyra away. And now that they're actually dating, it's even harder."

He stared at her, genuinely stunned. All this time, she still didn't think any of it was her fault? Not even after that brutal confrontation with Robin?

Arlo suddenly realized… he didn't know Suzie as well as he thought he did. She wasn't just unaware—she was completely unwilling to take any blame. And yet, strangely, she wasn't mad at Lyra. Not really. It was like she still wanted Lyra back, like she missed her.

But was it just friendship she wanted back? Or did she think that if Lyra returned, everything else—Walter, the group—would magically fall back into place?

…Or maybe Suzie still didn't know Lyra once had feelings for Walter too.

Arlo's jaw clenched. Walter had owned up to his part in all this. But Suzie? She was still spinning the story to make herself the victim.

His voice came out lower now, colder. "Whatever it is you're thinking of doing—don't."

Suzie blinked, startled by the shift in his tone.

"Lyra's finally with someone who makes her happy. And I've seen it. Robin is good for her. They fit."

"You're insane! He's the reason she's pulling away from us!" she shot back.

"Suzie!" Arlo raised his voice for the first time—startling even himself. He wasn't the yelling type. Everyone knew that. But this? This pushed a button.

"Just stop," he said, eyes locked on hers. "Have you even considered that maybe… you're the problem? Walter already admitted he was wrong. Robin just said what needed to be said."

"So I'm the villain now?" she snapped, voice sharp.

Under the table, Arlo's fists clenched. He took a slow breath, trying to stay calm.

"Lyra's finally happy," he said quietly. "And I'm not gonna let you ruin that. Not even if you think it's for her own good."

His gaze didn't waver. "If you're planning something messed up, don't expect me to sit back and watch."

And with that, he stood up and walked out, leaving Suzie behind—jaw tight, hands balled into fists, fury simmering in her eyes.

No.

She wasn't letting this go.

This was all his fault.

Her grip tightened.

Just wait. You'll see.

--------

It was well past noon when Robin's stomach finally spoke up with a loud, unapologetic growl. He glanced sideways at Lyra, still curled up on the couch, eyes locked on the massive screen in front of them.

"Wanna go out for food? Or just order in?" he asked casually. "Or, I mean... I could ask one of the staff to cook something."

Lyra turned to him, thought about it for a second, then shook her head. "How about I cook?"

Robin blinked, caught off guard. "But... there are people here whose literal job is to do that."

She just smiled. That soft, stubborn kind of smile he was starting to recognize. "You're always spoiling me. Let me do something for you this time. I wanna cook."

He stared at her for a beat, then let out a quiet laugh. "Wow. A personal chef. Alright then. Kitchen's all yours, Miss Fancy."

They headed to the kitchen—big, spotless, and stocked like a showroom. Lyra walked straight to the fridge and opened it like she'd done it a thousand times. "Hmm… chicken, carrots, potatoes…" she muttered, then turned back to him. "How about chicken soup? Looks like you've got everything."

Robin leaned against the counter, watching her with lazy amusement. "You're the boss. Whatever you make, I'll eat."

Lyra scoffed playfully. "You've never even tasted my cooking."

He shrugged, still smug. "I have faith."

She laughed and shook her head, already pulling out the ingredients. But of course, Robin couldn't just stand there and do nothing. He stepped up beside her, grabbed a knife, and reached for the onions.

"Wait, hold on—"

Too late. He'd already started chopping, and it showed. The pieces were uneven, sad-looking little chunks that barely resembled food.

Robin held up the results, unimpressed with himself. "Okay. Not as graceful as I imagined."

Lyra sighed, hands on her hips. "Yeah, maybe just… watch from the sidelines. Less chance of injury that way."

"I just wanna help. Feels weird just standing around."

"You'd help more by not helping," she replied, already peeling potatoes with practiced ease.

Robin backed off, hands up in surrender, and leaned on the counter again, this time doing what he was told—observing. His eyes drifted to Lyra, who was completely in the zone now, chopping and prepping with smooth, confident motions.

After a minute, he couldn't help himself. "You're kinda good at this… wife material already."

Lyra paused, glanced at him, and smacked his arm lightly with the back of her hand. "Don't throw that word around."

He laughed, rubbing the spot where she hit him—more for dramatic effect than pain. But he caught it—just for a second—that tiny smile she tried to hide.

Once everything was chopped and ready, she tossed garlic and onions into a hot pan, the sizzle filling the space almost immediately. The smell hit Robin like a freight train.

Then went in the chicken. Once it was browned, she poured in water and let it simmer.

Robin watched like it was a cooking show. "So this is the secret, huh? Just boil everything and hope for the best?"

Lyra shot him a look. "If you think that's all there is to it, you can cook next time."

She grabbed a spoon and started seasoning the broth—salt, pepper, a little chicken stock—then dropped in the carrots and potatoes. The soup began to bubble, the scent getting stronger, warmer, more tempting by the second.

Robin exhaled through a grin, arms folded as he leaned closer to the counter. "You know... I could get used to this."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Used to what exactly?"

He smiled, eyes soft. "Days like this. You. Me. A kitchen that smells like heaven."

She didn't answer, just turned back to stir the soup again—but her ears were pink.

And yeah, she may have played it cool on the outside, but inside? She was absolutely screaming.

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