Let me just say: being called to the principal's office? Not cute. Not mysterious. Not main character behavior. Just pure social horror.
Especially when your name is in bold letters right next to:
Aeron
Damian
Yup.
The whole school saw the call slip get delivered in first period. Jayce gasped so loudly, two people turned around and offered him CPR.
Mina whispered, "It's giving messy legend energy."
I whispered back, "It's giving I'm dying inside."
Principal Marin's Office. The Vibe? Death.
We sat in three chairs of doom. The tension between Damian and Aeron could've killed plants.
Principal Marin looked tired. So tired. Like three teenagers with Too Many Feelings had aged her 30 years in 3 minutes.
"I'll make this quick," she said, pinching her nose. "This love triangle nonsense is now school-wide gossip. There are rumors, disruptions, and now a literal detention report."
Damian coughed. "In my defense, I didn't actually punch anyone."
"Yet," Aeron muttered.
"Enough," she snapped. "Here's what's happening: Aeron, you're being moved to a different lab group. Damian, you're switching lunch tables."
"Wait—what?" I asked.
"Oh, and Lira?" she added. "You're being reassigned in art club. No more shared projects."
I blinked. "So I'm being punished too?"
"No. You're being protected."
From them. From rumors. From this storm.
It was like someone pulled the floor out from under me.
Lunchtime. Gossip Levels: CATASTROPHIC.
Everywhere I walked, people stared.
Jayce sent me a text:
"You are the main character, but like… in a season finale."
Mina:
"I heard someone call you 'The Girl Who Broke the Bro Code.'"
I sat outside, under a tree, pretending to eat a sandwich and not cry into it.
Everything felt wrong. Off. Quiet.
My phone buzzed.
From Damian:
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess things up for you. I just… meant what I said. All of it.
Then:
From Aeron: .
That's it. Just a dot.
That somehow hurt more.
Later. Art Room. After Hours.
I snuck in. Needed to breathe. Needed to draw. Needed quiet.
Instead I cried.
Messy, ugly crying. Into my sleeves. Onto my sketchpad.
I drew nothing. Just smudges and shadows and lines that made no sense—like my brain.
Then—
Footsteps.
I froze.
The door creaked open.
A soft voice:
"Lira?"
I turned, still blotchy, still broken.
It was Aeron.
Not Damian.
Not both.
Just him.
He walked in slowly, holding the sketchbook I thought I lost.
"I found this. You left it... after detention."
He placed it gently on the desk, then looked at me. Really looked.
"Are you okay?"
I laughed. Bitter. "Do I look okay?"
"No," he said quietly. "You look like me."
I blinked.
He stepped closer. "You're not the only one who doesn't know how to say things."
Pause.
"But I meant what I tried to say. And I'm here now. If that counts."
I stared at him.
Messy, angry, sad... and maybe still—somehow—hopeful.
I whispered, "I don't know what I want."
"I'll wait," he said.
Silence.
And in that silence, something cracked.
Not apart—
But open.
End of Chapter 10