The sky was already dark when the nurse told me I could leave. I still hadn't said much—just nodded through her questions and avoided the mirror on the wall.
Syron waited outside. He hadn't pushed. Hadn't asked anything else.
When I stepped out, he simply adjusted the strap of his bag and fell into step beside me. Not in front. Not behind. Just beside me.
The campus was still. Most students had gone home; the rest were shadows drifting under flickering lampposts.
We didn't speak. My steps were slow, heavy, but I didn't rush—and he didn't make me.
Every so often, I felt his gaze flick toward me. Checking, but never intruding. The silence wasn't awkward. It was... safe.
At the condo entrance, I hesitated. He didn't ask why—just waited.
"Can you..." My voice was low, eyes on the floor. "Can you walk me up?"
He nodded. "Of course."
We rode the elevator in silence. I kept glancing at our reflections—my shoulders stiff, his face calm and unreadable.
At my door, my hands fumbled with the keys. I finally got it open and turned to him.
"You can come in... if you want." He didn't hesitate.
Once the door closed, the quiet felt heavier.
The apartment was dim, lit only by the city glow through the window. It smelled faintly of coffee and lavender cleaner.
I dropped my bag and froze. Something inside me cracked. I let out a breath—and it came out as a sob.
I turned away, but my shoulders shook. I tried to muffle the sound. Failed.
One hand over my mouth, I stood there, breaking apart in the middle of my living room. And then—
I felt him behind me. Not close. Not touching. Just... there.
"You can cry, Mace," he said quietly. "You don't have to hold it in."
That made it worse—or maybe it made it real. I dropped to my knees, hands over my face, and cried.
Cried for the fear, the humiliation, for the fact that someone I once trusted had made me feel so small.
Syron didn't speak. He sat beside me—not touching, not pushing. Just there. And that was everything.
The first thing I noticed was the light—soft and gold, spilling through the curtains. The kind of morning that didn't scream itself awake, just gently told the world it was time.
My eyes opened slowly, stinging from the night before. Everything felt still. Not empty—just quiet.
The air was cool. For a second, I wasn't sure where I was. Then I saw the jacket draped over the couch.
Syron's jacket.
And then it all came back.
Last night. The hallway. Kevin. The infirmary. The walk home. Me breaking down on the floor like someone who couldn't hold it anymore.
I sat up slowly, surprised to find a blanket over my shoulders. I looked around. He was gone—but not completely. A glass of water sat on the side table beside a sticky note.
"I didn't want to wake you. If you need anything, just knock. — S."
My chest tightened—not painfully, just... sharply. Like something in me recognized that gentleness and didn't know what to do with it.
I held the glass for a long time before taking a sip.
The apartment was the same—lavender scent, papers scattered on my desk—but something inside me had shifted. I wasn't okay yet, but I didn't feel hollow.
There would be questions. Whispers. People who didn't understand, or didn't want to.
My phone was almost empty of notifications—except one, from an unknown number.
A blurry hallway camera photo. A guy shoving a girl against a wall.
My stomach lurched. Then another message:
"This got forwarded to the dean. He won't get away with it."
No name. No sender ID. Just that. For once, I didn't feel like I had to handle it alone.
By mid-afternoon, I went back to campus—not because I wanted to, but because the silence was turning into a trap. I needed noise. Movement. Something ordinary.
I texted Mia.
"I'm heading in. Where are you guys?"
"Org room! We were just talking about you. Come here, please."
My stomach twisted. I wasn't ready for questions. Still, I went.
When I walked in, the room fell silent.
"Mace..." Yashina's eyes widened.
Mia stood. "We were just talking about—" She stopped. "Are you okay?"
That question again. I nodded tightly and went to a corner, dropping my bag.
Susmita came over. "We saw the footage. Jhay got it from student council. The dean's taking it seriously." I nodded again.
Yashina sat beside me, threading her fingers through mine. "You don't have to talk about it. Not unless you want to."
That nearly undid me.
"I can't believe Kevin..." Mia started.
"Don't," I cut in gently. "I thought the same."
Then Jersey burst in. "Is it true? Kevin got called to admin—" She stopped when she saw me. The look on her face said it all.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"Do you want to attend our next class?" Susmita asked.
"I'm not going. I just wanted to see you guys."
"I don't want people looking at me like I'm broken," I whispered.
"You're not," Mia said fiercely. "You've always been stronger than any of us."
I stayed half an hour—long enough to feel their comfort, even laugh once. But eventually, the noise became too much.
Outside, the sun was dipping behind the trees. The air smelled of concrete and faint smoke from a food stall.
I headed for the gate, earbuds in, no music—just pretending to be busy. Then I saw him.
Syron. Leaning against a lamppost like he'd been there all along. Headphones around his neck, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink.
Our eyes met.
"Were you... waiting?"
"Figured you might come out this way."
"You didn't message."
"Didn't want to bother you."
He held out the drink. "Lemon iced tea. Figured you haven't had anything cold today."
It was exactly what I didn't know I wanted.
"Thanks."
"I know everyone's been asking how you are," he said. "So I won't." And then he started walking. I followed. No questions. No expectations.