Chapter 71: Hearts on a Blanket
Tuesday night, just as I was about to shut off my laptop and pretend I was done with life for the day, Celestia showed up. No call. No text. No warning. Just her, leaning against my doorway with that mischievous look in her eye and a cloth bag dangling from her hand like it contained nuclear codes.
"Put this on tomorrow," she said, dropping it onto my bed.
I blinked. "...Hello to you too."
She ignored that, tugging at the strings of the bag like she was untying a gift she couldn’t wait to open, except it was mine. Out came a folded shirt and a fresh pair of sneakers, both looking suspiciously new.
"Wait," I said, already wary. "What is this?"
"Our Valentine’s outfits," she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then she pouted—full lips, arms crossed, head tilting just enough to look like she’d practiced in the mirror. "And before you start whining, yes, you’re wearing it. No arguments."
I unfolded the shirt. Black cotton. Clean cut. And then I saw it—the print across the front in bright red letters: Val ❤️ Kai.
I stared. Then stared harder. "...You didn’t."
"Oh, I did." She hopped onto my bed, smug, pulling her knees up like she owned the place. "Couples wear matching outfits on Valentine’s. It’s a thing."
"No, it’s not."
"Yes, it is." She kicked lightly at my leg. "And don’t even try to argue with me. If you don’t wear this tomorrow, I’ll..." Her eyes narrowed dramatically. "I’ll go to school in my pajamas. The fluffy pink ones. With the unicorn slippers. And when everyone asks why, I’ll say, ’Because my husband broke my heart and refused to match with me.’"
My jaw dropped. "...That’s blackmail."
"That’s love," she corrected.
"That’s emotional terrorism."
She gasped, clutching her chest like I’d stabbed her. "Wow. To think, this is how my own husband talks to me the night before Valentine’s."
I groaned, running a hand down my face. "You’re impossible."
She grinned, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. "And you love it."
The worst part? She was right.
---
So here I was, Wednesday morning, standing in the middle of campus with the world’s most embarrassing shirt plastered across my chest: Val ❤️ Kai.
Black jeans. White sneakers. The outfit actually... wasn’t bad. In fact, if you ignored the screaming red print and the fact that every single pair of eyes was glued to me, it actually looked good.
I tugged at the hem of the shirt like it would magically hide itself if I pulled hard enough. Spoiler: it didn’t.
"Cute," Marina’s voice chimed from behind me.
I turned, half-expecting a snicker, but she was smiling. Genuinely smiling. "I thought you’d be sulking about this, but..." She motioned to the shirt. "It suits you."
"Don’t encourage her," I muttered.
Marina tilted her head, eyes twinkling. "What’s wrong with it? If my date showed up in matching outfits with me, I’d probably melt."
"That’s because your date is Trent," I shot back.
"And your date is Celestia Valentina Moreau," she countered, smirking. "You win by default."
Before I could come up with a comeback, the air shifted. You didn’t even need to look—everyone knew when Celestia walked into a room. Or in this case, onto campus.
Her voice. Her laugh. The confident click of her sneakers against the pavement.
And then there she was.
Celestia Valentina Moreau, wearing the exact same shirt as me but with the words—Kai ❤️ Val—tucked into her black jeans, white sneakers gleaming. Her hair spilled loose over her shoulders, catching the sunlight, and her smirk said she knew exactly what she was doing.
The collective gasp of the hallway was audible. I swear I heard a girl behind me hiss, "Why don’t we have matching outfits?"
Another voice—male, panicked—"Babe, I didn’t know that was a thing!"
"Figure it out, Daniel!"
I almost felt bad for Daniel. Almost.
Marina let out a low whistle beside me. "Wow. She really pulled it off."
"Of course she did," I muttered, because of course she did.
Celestia spotted me instantly, her grin widening as if the world itself had arranged this slow-motion moment for her. She walked straight up to me, ignoring every pair of gawking eyes, every whispered rumor sparking like wildfire.
"Morning, husband," she said sweetly, tugging at my sleeve to pull me down just enough so she could peck my cheek.
I heard someone choke on their drink behind us.
Marina laughed softly. "Iconic."
Celestia turned to her with the same blinding smile. "Morning, Marina."
} "Morning, Celestia. Love the shirt."
Celestia clasped her hands together in mock innocence. "Oh, this old thing? My husband got it for me."
I groaned. "You literally forced me—"
"Shh." She pressed a finger to my lips. "Don’t ruin the moment."
Marina giggled. "You guys are unreal."
From behind us, a couple actually started bickering. The girl jabbed her boyfriend in the chest. "See? That’s effort. Why can’t you ever do something like that?"
"I—what? Babe, come on, it’s just a shirt—"
Celestia looked positively delighted.
And me? Yeah. I was doomed.
---
All day Wednesday, the shirt wasn’t the real problem. Not the stares, not the whispers, not the fact that a second-year couple literally broke up in front of me because the girl screamed, "See? Even Kai wore matching with his girlfriend, what’s YOUR excuse?"
No. The real problem was that my brain wouldn’t shut up.
Because I had a plan.
A real Valentine’s plan.
Me. The guy who’s never planned anything beyond "eat, sleep, survive class."
I was hosting a picnic.
(Okay, not just me—Trent too. But still. A picnic.)
And before you roll your eyes—yes. Yes, I exchanged numbers with Trent. And yes, we actually talked. A lot. And here’s the shocking part: he’s... cool. Like, genuinely cool. When he’s not doing the whole smug quarterback strut thing, he’s just a chill guy who actually knows when to listen. Which is more than I can say for most of the guys I’ve met.
Anyway.
After classes ended, the plan went into motion. Trent texted Marina something vague about "meet me at the park." I texted Celestia a simple "come with her." Neither girl asked many questions—which should’ve worried me.
Because if there’s one thing more dangerous than Celestia Valentina Moreau scheming, it’s Celestia Valentina Moreau pretending not to scheme.
Still. We set up.
Blanket spread. Boxes lined up. Food, snacks, drinks. Even board games because apparently Trent’s the kind of guy who keeps Monopoly in his car. (I didn’t ask why. I didn’t want to know.)
We sat there waiting, both of us pretending not to look like we were seconds away from sweating through our shirts.
"Man," Trent muttered, adjusting the picnic basket for the fifteenth time, "you sure this is gonna work?"
"No," I admitted, staring at the box of sandwiches like it might explode. "But if I pass out, just tell her I tried."
He laughed, clapping me on the back. "Relax. You got this."
That was when I heard them.
Laughter.
The unmistakable rhythm of Celestia’s voice mixing with Marina’s as they walked into the park.
Both of them slowed when they spotted us.
Celestia stopped altogether, blinking at the blanket, the food, the drinks. At me.
"Wait," Marina said first, eyes flicking between Trent and me. "You two...?"
Trent rubbed the back of his neck. "Surprise?"
Celestia’s gaze landed on me again. Her eyes widened just slightly, sparkling in a way I’d never seen before—like she wasn’t expecting this, like she didn’t even dare to.
I swallowed. My throat was suddenly dry. "So... what do you think?"
For a second, she just stood there. Quiet. Staring at me with those big, impossible eyes that made my chest ache.
Then, suddenly, she moved.
Celestia crossed the blanket in three steps and threw her arms around me, burying her face against my shoulder. Her voice was soft, muffled, but I felt every syllable against my skin.
> "I love it."
I froze, heart hammering so loud I was sure Trent and Marina could hear it.
"Uh," I croaked, "you’re welcome?"
When she pulled back, her smile was so bright it almost hurt.
Marina, meanwhile, had her hands on her hips. "Okay, wait. Who planned this? You or him?" She pointed between me and Trent.
I opened my mouth, but Trent beat me to it. "Kai."
Marina’s eyes widened. "Seriously? I thought for sure it was you."
"Why?" I asked, offended.
"Because it’s you," Marina said. "You sulk when the vending machine eats your dollar. And suddenly you planned a whole picnic?"
Celestia’s grin widened as she leaned into my side. "Told you. He’s full of surprises."
"Thanks for believing in me," I muttered.
She patted my chest. "Always, husband."
---
And just like that, the tension broke.
We sat. We ate. We drank. Celestia discovered the chocolate strawberries I’d somehow managed to make without burning down my kitchen, and declared them "better than store-bought" (I’m still convinced she was lying, but I’ll take it).
Marina and Trent started arguing over Monopoly five minutes in. Celestia teamed up with me in charades and was terrifyingly competitive—at one point hissing, "If you don’t guess this, I swear—"
"It’s a dolphin!" I panicked.
"YES!" She fist-pumped.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos—laughter, games, food—I realized I wasn’t panicking anymore.
Because she was happy.
Because they both were.
Because this—this simple stupid picnic with sandwiches and soda and Monopoly pieces getting lost in the grass—this was enough.
I leaned back on my hands, watching her laugh at something Marina said, the sunlight catching in her hair, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed from smiling too hard.
And yeah, maybe Trent was right.
The way Celestia looked at me—like the world made sense, like I was the only one here—was enough.
Maybe it didn’t matter if I planned the perfect Valentine’s Day.
Because she already made it perfect.
Because she made everything perfect.
And maybe I’ll never say it out loud, but...
I think this is what it feels like to be loved.
---
To be continued...