The vibe on campus had flipped overnight.
Where once there'd been music leaking out of dorm rooms, protests echoing through the quad, and laughter drifting from the cafeteria, now there was silence sharpened by stress. Heads were buried in books, notes crumpled and scattered across tables, empty Red Bull cans stacked like trophies.
Exam season had arrived.
Kylie sat hunched over a revision guide in the library, eyes tracing over lines she wasn't even absorbing anymore. Her brain felt clogged with theories and citations. Across from her, Iver tapped a pen against his notebook, scanning the page with his usual calm.
"You good?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Kylie exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "Define good. I feel like my brain's leaking out my ears."
Iver chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll be calm. You've been grafting for weeks. Just don't psych yourself out."
"Easy for you to say," Kylie muttered. "You memorise stuff like it's breathing."
"Oi, don't gas me." He smirked. "I just know how to blag when it counts."
She smiled despite herself, grateful for his steady presence.
What she didn't notice was Devon, standing near the stacks pretending to look for a textbook. He wasn't looking at books. He was watching them.
Iver leaning in, Kylie laughing under her breath too familiar. Too close.
Devon's jaw tightened. He grabbed a random book, shoved it under his arm, and left without a word.
Later that evening, their assigned study group gathered in a seminar room: Kylie, Iver, Devon, Raya, and a couple of others the principal had handpicked.
The room buzzed with low conversation, but the second Kylie posed a debate-style question, the energy shifted.
"Alright," she said, flipping through her notes. "If the prompt is 'Does freedom compromise structure?', what's your stance?"
Devon leaned back, arms crossed. "Simple. Structure holds everything together. Without it, people lose the plot."
Kylie frowned. "That's too rigid. Freedom allows creativity. People thrive when they're not boxed in."
"Bruv, you're moving mad," Devon shot back. "Freedom without limits? That's chaos."
"Allow it, fam," Kylie countered, heat rising in her tone. "You sound like the principal, yeah? And half the school just proved how dead that man's rules are."
Iver raised his hands between them. "Oi, chill. You're both chatting breeze. Balance, innit? Bit of freedom, bit of structure. That's the only way."
Raya, perched at the end of the table, gave Devon a sly grin. "See, Dev? Not everything's gotta be a war. You don't have to prove you're right all the time."
Kylie's head snapped towards her, but before she could retort, Iver chuckled. "Man said debate practice, not WWE. Save it for the exam, yeah?"
The room eased into awkward laughter, but the tension stuck, lingering like static between Kylie and Devon.
The hall smelled of fresh ink and nerves. Rows of desks stretched like a battlefield, invigilators pacing the aisles.
Kylie sat near the front, pencil poised, while Devon took a seat across the room. Their eyes met once a flicker of connection but the papers landed on desks, and the war began.
The questions were brutal. Essays that twisted into labyrinths. Definitions that blurred together. Kylie felt sweat gather at her temple, fighting to keep calm.
Across the room, Devon's pen scratched hard against the page, frustration etched into every line of his face. When the final bell rang, a collective groan rose up.
Outside, students spilled into the courtyard, venting about the exam.
"Madness, that was peak."
"Bruv, I revised the wrong chapters!"
"Nah, man, they're setting us up to fail."
Devon stormed out, ripping his tie loose. Raya followed, slipping into step beside him.
"Hey," she said softly. "You smashed it, I bet."
He shook his head. "Nah. That paper was a joke."
"Don't watch it," Raya replied, touching his arm briefly. "You'll bounce back."
He didn't reply. His eyes had already caught sight of Kylie on the steps, laughing weakly at something Iver said. A sharp pang twisted in his chest.
By Wednesday, fatigue clung to everyone. Students were walking zombies—fuelled on coffee, surviving on two hours of sleep.
During a revision break, Devon crossed campus and stopped dead. Under a tree near the quad, Kylie and Iver sat with books sprawled, laughing at some private joke.
The sight burned him.
Raya, trailing behind, clocked his expression instantly.
"You're rattled, innit?" she said, folding her arms. "Don't tell me it's about her again."
Devon scoffed. "Nah, you're chatting."
"Don't lie, Dev. You've been eyeing her every second. Like you don't see she's got someone else holding it down."
Devon's jaw clenched. "Iver's my boy."
"Yeah," Raya pressed, smirking, "and he's stepping where you bottled it. Think about that."
Devon turned sharply, cutting her off with a glare. "Drop it, Raya."
But her words echoed long after she walked away.
The second exam came. Harder, heavier. Students cracked under the weight one kid walked out halfway, muttering he couldn't take it. Another got caught trying to sneak notes on his arm.
Kylie kept her head down, scribbling fast, but her chest was tight. She could feel her confidence slipping. When the paper ended, she sat frozen until Iver leaned in from the next row.
"You've got this, Kye," he whispered. "Don't let your head run you."
She gave him a small smile, grateful.
Devon, watching from two seats back, felt something coil inside him. Those words words he should've been the one saying. He felt replaced, both as her anchor and as Iver's closest mate.
That evening, Devon found himself in the library again, walking past rows of tired faces until he spotted Kylie and Iver deep in notes.
He almost walked past, but something in him snapped. He sat down.
The silence was thick. Kylie glanced at him, lips parting, but Iver spoke first.
"You alright, bro?"
Devon nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Just… wanted to say thanks. For looking out for her."
Kylie blinked, surprised. Iver tilted his head, giving Devon a steady look. "You don't need to thank me. She's family, innit. Always got her back."
Devon swallowed hard. "Still. Means something."
For a moment, there was a fragile truce. But beneath it, jealousy still stirred unspoken, unresolved.
The week wore on, exams testing more than their minds. They tested patience, trust, and the fragile ties that bound them.
And in the shadows beneath the tide, jealousy waited, growing sharper with every look, every laugh, every silence too heavy to ignore.