Chapter 61: The Girl Who Won, The Friend Who Stayed
I’d barely made it halfway down the hall when I heard it.
} "Kai!"
The voice made me stop, but not because I wanted to. Because it was too bright, too perfectly sweet, too much like a hook in the air. Avery Brooke Prescott.
I turned just enough to see her walking toward me, hair in perfect waves, smile like she hadn’t practiced it in the mirror a hundred times before showing it to the world.
"Hey," she said, tilting her head in that way people did when they wanted to look approachable. "Did you even survive Halifax’s class this morning? I swear that man speaks in ancient riddles. Like—what even was that tangent about the French Revolution?"
She let out a laugh. It wasn’t funny. Not even close.
"Yeah," I said, already shifting my weight like I was about to keep walking. "He’s... Halifax."
But Avery wasn’t done. Not even close. She took another step forward, falling into stride with me before I could escape.
"So—" she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I was thinking... maybe you could help me out? Like, tutoring? Not later. I mean right now. You’re free, aren’t you?"
I blinked. "Right now?"
"Mhm." She nodded, lips curling into something soft, something practiced. "I mean, unless you’ve got plans..."
I did. Big ones. Plans that involved finding Celestia before the silence between us turned into something bigger, something I couldn’t fix.
"Actually, I—"
"Come on, Kai," she cut in lightly, like it was no big deal. "Just half an hour. You’re literally the only one who understands that man when he starts drawing those awful diagrams. Please?"
The way she said please, drawn out like a plea and a promise at the same time, it was meant to make me stay. To make me feel guilty for saying no.
And maybe it would have worked—if someone else hadn’t stepped in.
"Funny," another voice said from behind us, calm but edged. "I thought Avery Prescott didn’t need help with anything. Especially not school."
We both turned. Marina.
She walked toward us with her usual steady stride, not a hair out of place, eyes sharp enough to cut right through the sugary smile Avery wore.
Avery laughed lightly, though it sounded tighter now. "Oh, hey, Marina. Didn’t see you there."
"That’s because you weren’t looking." Marina’s tone stayed smooth, not raised, not hostile—just sharp enough to leave a mark. She glanced at me briefly, then back at Avery. "Besides, if Kai’s free, I’m pretty sure there are better uses of his time than re-explaining Halifax to someone who was definitely scrolling through her phone the whole lecture."
My eyebrows shot up. "Wait, what?"
Avery’s smile froze for half a second before she smoothed it back in place. "I was taking notes on my phone."
"Right." Marina didn’t blink. "Funny how notes always sound like Instagram notifications."
Avery let out a breathy laugh, pretending it was all still casual, but I caught the flicker in her eyes. She hated being called out. Hated it even more when it was done in front of me.
"Anyway," Marina said, finally turning to me, "weren’t you headed somewhere? Don’t let me stop you." Her voice was firm, deliberate. The kind of tone that left no room for argument.
I opened my mouth, hesitating for a split second. But then Marina’s eyes locked on mine, just long enough for me to get it. She was pulling me out.
"Yeah," I said quickly, stepping back. "Actually, I was. I’ll, uh... catch you later, Avery."
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, to sweet-talk me into staying, but Marina’s presence beside us had changed the whole atmosphere. It wasn’t an argument, not out loud, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent.
Marina versus Avery.
And this round? Marina won.
I walked away, leaving the two of them behind in the hallway.
Avery’s voice didn’t follow me this time, and Marina didn’t either. She stayed where she was, standing between us like a line Avery couldn’t cross.
And for the first time since stepping into that hallway, I felt like I could breathe again.
---
I found her in one of the quieter corners of the campus. Not the library, not the gardens—just a bench tucked half in the shade, half in the light, like she couldn’t decide which she wanted more.
She sat with her legs crossed, phone in hand, thumb sliding down the screen like she was scrolling through something endlessly. Her face—no, not her face, that sounds too detached—her expression was... off. Not angry. Not bratty. Just tired. Sad in a way that made my chest tighten before I even said a word.
The second her eyes flicked up and landed on me, the phone locked with a quick press. Whatever she’d been looking at, it wasn’t mine to see. She set it down beside her and stood, straightening her skirt like she’d been caught off guard, like she needed to make herself presentable.
I walked closer, ready—finally ready—to say something, to apologize, to admit I’d screwed up. But before I could even get the words out, she beat me to it.
"I’m sorry," she said, voice low. No bite, no sharpness, no... Celestia Valentina Moreau in it at all. Just quiet words that sounded like they’d been dragged out of her chest.
I froze.
She kept going, eyes darting away from mine, like she couldn’t bear to see me react. "I’ll stop making everything so difficult for you. I’ll stop hovering when you’re studying, I know it annoys you. I’ll stop distracting you when you’re trying to read or dragging you into stupid things when you’re busy. I’ll... I’ll stop walking around your place in just your hoodie if that bothers you. I’ll stop stealing your food, or kissing you when you’re not in the mood, or pushing when you don’t want it."
Each thing she listed, her voice got smaller, softer, until it barely carried in the air between us.
"I’ll stop making you feel like you have to take care of me. I’ll stop being a problem. I’ll stop being... dramatic."
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Guilt crashed into me so heavy it rooted me to the ground. She looked nothing like the hurricane I was used to—she looked like the wreckage after.
Her hands twisted together, nails pressing into her skin as she let out one shaky breath, then added, "So... can you unblock my number now, please?"
That snapped me out of it.
"What?" I blinked, staring at her. "I didn’t block you."
Her head jerked up, confusion flickering in her eyes. "You didn’t?"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "Never. I’d never do that." My throat felt dry, but I forced the words out. "It must’ve been because I was still on the phone. With... Avery."
Her lips parted, just slightly. A shadow crossed her face, but before she could spiral again, I rushed on. "And I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you she asked for my number instead of you finding out like that. It was stupid and careless and—I’m sorry, Val."
For a moment, the air between us was still. Then she exhaled, long and uneven, her shoulders dropping a fraction.
"Okay," she whispered.
I blinked. That was it? After all of that—after the list, the apology, the weight in her voice—she was just... letting it go? Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe this was her way of holding on without breaking all over again.
Then, after a pause, her mouth tilted—just a little. "About those things I said earlier..."
Her eyes flicked up, just barely glinting like the girl I knew was fighting her way back through the sadness. "Can we... renegotiate?"
The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. "Renegotiate?"
"Mhm." She tilted her head, strands of hair falling forward as she leaned closer, her voice gaining a touch of that familiar playfulness. "Like... maybe I don’t really need to stop distracting you when you’re reading. You secretly like it. And stealing your food—come on, you’d miss me if I didn’t. Walking around in just your hoodie? That’s non-negotiable. And kisses—" she finally met my eyes, a spark of mischief pushing through the haze, "—you don’t really want me to stop, do you?"
I swallowed hard, every ounce of guilt twisting into something warmer.
She was trying. She’d been breaking, and still she was here, clawing her way back toward me, toward us.
And in that moment, it hit me harder than anything else had—she really was in love with me. All of her, messy and stubborn and fragile underneath it all. And I kept forgetting, kept taking it for granted.
"Val," I said, softly. "I don’t want you to stop being you. Not any of it."
Her lips curved—not fully into a smile yet, but close. Close enough that I let myself believe she’d be okay. Close enough that I realized I needed to do better, because Celestia Valentina Moreau wasn’t just mine.
She was giving me all of her and I had to stop forgetting that.
---
My eyes finally dropped to her phone on the bench beside her. She’d locked it the second I walked up, too fast, like she didn’t want me to see.
"What were you looking at?" I asked.
Her head snapped up, quick. "Nothing."
Which, of course, meant something.
I reached for the phone. She snatched it up.
"Val," I said, leaning closer.
Her grip tightened, pulling it to her chest. "You don’t even know the password."
I gave her a look, then plucked the phone gently but firmly out of her hand, my other arm steadying her shoulder when she tried to twist away.
She gasped. "Kai! You can’t just—"
The screen blinked alive. My thumbs tapped out the code, smooth, practiced.
Kai Space Husband.
Her mouth fell open. "How... how did you—?"
I smirked. "I’ve seen you unlock it a hundred times, Val."
The lock screen slid away, and there it was.
Me.
Photo after photo.
Selfies she’d stolen, candid shots from across classrooms, even ones where I didn’t remember her holding up her phone at all. My face filled the gallery like I was some kind of celebrity she’d been documenting.
Her cheeks flushed. "I was just— I wasn’t— It’s not—"
I raised a brow, fighting back a grin. "Scrolling through my pictures uh?"
"It’s called... appreciating," she shot back, chin lifting, though her voice cracked just enough to betray her. "You should be grateful, Kai Tanaka. Not everyone gets to be on my phone."
I laughed, low and warm, the sound dragging her blush even deeper. "Oh, I’m grateful. Don’t worry about that."
She huffed, muttering something under her breath about annoying boyfriends, and tried to snatch the phone back, but this time it was half-hearted. We were smiling again, the weight between us lighter, even if it wasn’t gone.
And I didn’t notice, but a few feet away, someone else had.
Marina.
She stood at the end of the hall, eyes lingering on us with something unreadable—something softer than her usual sharpness. Then she exhaled, almost like a laugh but not quite.
"I’m happy for you, Kai," she whispered to herself.
No one heard it. No one saw her turn away, her shoulders sinking just a little as she walked off.
But the truth stayed anyway: Marina Godfrey was happy for me. Even if it hurt.
---
To be continued...