Monday morning came, but it didn't come with its usual buzz.
There was no cheerful "wakey wakey" from Mr. Philip, no tickling sounds or sleepy laughter from the kids. It was just… quiet. And tense. Like the walls knew something had shifted and were waiting to see what would come next.
I came down to the kitchen early, dressed and ready for school, just as Emily and Josh were finishing up their breakfast. Shawn? Nowhere in sight. I wasn't surprised. We hadn't said a single word to each other since last night, not even a glance across the hallway this morning. Not that I was looking. Not really.
I had told myself I didn't need the drama. That I had more important things to think about—like the exams in two days, and making Mr. Philip proud, and someday, someday, making my uncle regret everything. There wasn't space for… whatever that was.
Still, I caught myself brushing my hair twice as long as usual. Just in case.
The ride to school was uneventful. Emily hummed something off-key in the backseat while Josh stared out the window and counted cars. I kept my eyes on the road, my hands folded neatly in my lap. It was the calmest I'd felt in days.
When I got to Ridgeview, I found Maya already waiting for me in our usual spot under the tall oak near the library. She looked like she had been up all night, books in one hand, coffee in the other.
"There you are!" she chirped, motioning me to sit. "We are going to crush these exams, Anne. No distractions. No excuses. You ready?"
I smiled—just a little. "More than ready."
She raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You look like your brain's been off wandering somewhere."
"Maybe it has," I said with a shrug, cracking open my notes. "But it's back now."
She grinned. "Good. Because if I have to suffer through Shakespeare's metaphors alone one more time, I swear I'll write my own tragic ending."
We both laughed, and for a few hours, things felt normal again.
We spent the day pouring over past papers, testing each other, even arguing over who remembered what. Maya had a way of turning revision into something that felt less like pressure and more like possibility.
Still, in the back of my mind, there was a room I kept locked—where everything about Shawn and last night was stored tightly away.
Maya didn't ask, and I didn't tell. Not a word about the late-night confrontation, not a whisper about Juliet. It wasn't that I didn't trust her. I just didn't want to say anything that might make it more real.
By the time school ended, my head was buzzing with facts and formulas, but my heart? It was doing its own thing—quiet, unsure, pretending not to care.
And I was getting really good at pretending.