The scrape of my chair legs against the floor was the loudest thing in the room. I leaned back, arms folded loosely, watching her across the table. The silence stretched, a string pulled too tight, ready to snap. I was still chewing over how I'd respond when Avery spoke first.

Her voice was small. "I'm… sorry I keep making you feel awkward."

The way she said it—eyes lowered, lips pressed tight, shoulders curled in—she looked nothing like the Avery I remembered from school. The bratty confidence, the queen-bee spark she carried so effortlessly back then, it was gone. In its place was someone subdued, almost fragile, like a scolded child. And I didn't know how to handle that.

I exhaled softly, tried to ease the edge in my voice. "Apology accepted."

Her head lifted, surprise flickering across her face. For a moment, she almost smiled. I tipped my chin toward her plate, giving a small nod as if to say, Go on, eat. Then I bent my head back toward my food, trying to pretend this was normal.

I took another bite, tried to let it end there, but the thought pressed harder the longer I kept quiet. Finally, I set my fork down.

"How did you know Celestia wouldn't be around tonight?"

Avery's brows lifted.

I leaned back slightly, studying her. "You've been here twice now. Both times—right after Val traveled."

She blinked, lips parting, but no answer came.

I went on, voice low. "The last time you were here was years ago, after the fight with Val. Suddenly, now that she's in London, you find your way back."

She swallowed slowly. "Trent mentioned it while talking with Chad… and Chad told me."

Of course. A roundabout chain of whispers. Trent's also friends with Chad, the jock Avery's dating.

My jaw tightened. "Oh. Right."

I looked at her again, sharper this time. "And does Chad know you're here?"

She hesitated, her gaze flickering sideways before she shook her head. "I'm sure Celestia also has no idea I was here last time."

I gave a humorless huff, turned back to my plate. But before I could lift another bite, her voice cut through again, soft but insistent.

The second it slipped out, she bit her lip—like even she realized she'd crossed a line.

"I'm not a bad person, Kai."

The fork hovered in my hand. I set it down slowly and looked at her. Her expression was fragile, but steady.

"I didn't say you were," I replied.

"Then why won't you talk to me?" she asked, her words breaking just a little around the edges.

I leaned back, my voice flattening. "I am talking."

The way she stilled—like I'd just taken the wind out of her—made the air shift. Her hands, which had been resting on the table, curled inward. Her lashes dipped low, and when she lifted them again, her eyes were glassy in the lamplight.

A pulse of guilt ran through me, but I shoved it down. I had to be clear. I had to be firm.

I let out a slow breath. "I'm in love with Celestia, Avery. Nothing's changing that. Ever."

Her lips parted, but no words came.

I pressed on, my tone harder now, each word like nailing shut a door. "I won't pretend I don't know what you're looking for. But hear me now—the next time you show up uninvited, I won't let you in."

The silence that followed was heavier than anything I'd said.

She froze. Just sat there, still as stone, as if she hadn't expected me to draw the line so sharply. Her throat bobbed with a swallow. She blinked once, twice, and I knew—without wanting to admit it—that there was something she was holding back.

Finally, her voice came out quiet. "…Can I at least be your friend?"

The words dug at me. For a second, I looked away, toward the far corner of the room. A long pause stretched before I forced myself to meet her eyes again.

"You already know the answer to that," I said.

It wasn't harsh. Just final.

Her gaze dropped. She gave the smallest nod, almost imperceptible, and turned back to her plate. She picked up her fork again, though she didn't seem to taste a single bite.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Not a comfortable silence. Not even a neutral one. It was the kind that pressed in on you, made every scrape of a fork sound too loud.

I found myself glancing at her every so often. She kept her head down, pushing food around more than she ate it. She looked… smaller somehow. And every time I caught myself watching, guilt pricked at me.

But I couldn't bend. Not here. Not on this. Val was too important. We were too important.

When dinner was finally over, she set her fork down with care. No scraping. No noise. Just quiet finality.

She stood, smoothing her hands against her skirt, and looked at me once more. For a second, her lips parted like she might say something else—but she thought better of it.

Instead, she gave the smallest nod, grabbed her jacket and walked to the door.

I didn't move to follow. Didn't try to soften what I'd said. I just sat there, rigid in my chair, listening to the faint sound of her footsteps retreating down the hall.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And only then did I let out the breath I'd been holding. My chest felt lighter, but my stomach twisted with something sour. Relief, guilt, and the faint sting of having been cruel, all tangled together.

---

I let out a long breath, sinking into the chair, my chest tight with the kind of tension Avery left in her wake.

But no. I wasn't going to let this pull me off course. Not tonight. Not when I'd just crossed one of the first real milestones of my life.

So instead of replaying her words or the look in her eyes, I pulled out my phone. My thumb dragged across the screen, one listing after another, opening before me. Apartments, townhouses, little starter homes tucked into corners of the city. Places I could see myself building something in a few years from now—not just for me, but for Val, Justina and Kristen.

Their names weren't forgotten. They never would be.

The glow of the screen held me long past midnight, my mind painting a thousand possibilities of what the future could look like if I worked hard enough, stayed steady enough, and never let myself slip.

Eventually, the weight of sleep pulled me under, my phone slipping from my hand.

And as I drifted, it wasn't Avery's visit or her lingering words that wrapped around me. It was the vision of that future I wanted—the life I was determined to give them—that became my blanket tonight.

---

To be continued...

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.