The following morning, I woke to sunlight stretching lazily across the floorboards, warm and golden. The flower from Tessa sat quietly on my windowsill, glowing softly in the morning light. I reached for it, my fingers brushing the delicate petals, and found myself smiling.
This was how they showed their love. Not always with words—but through presence. Through little gestures. Through every moment they let me exist fully and honestly without asking me to be anything other than Sera.
I pulled on my uniform slowly, still not used to the calm I felt settling over me. For once, my chest wasn't tight with fear of messing things up. There was nervousness, sure. But it was a different kind of flutter now. One filled with anticipation.
Outside the dorm, the courtyard was already alive. Spring was soft here—gentle breezes, students laughing as they passed by, birds perched on the fence rails. It felt like everything was subtly shifting.
Like maybe the world itself had begun to notice my heart opening.
When I reached the garden, Lillian was already there, crouched by one of the flowerbeds, sleeves rolled up and hair pinned back. She looked up when she heard my footsteps, and for just a second, the way she smiled made my breath catch all over again.
"Morning," I said softly.
"Morning," she echoed, rising to her feet. "I didn't think you'd be this early."
"I couldn't sleep," I said. "Too many thoughts."
Her expression softened. "Good ones?"
I nodded, stepping closer. "Mostly."
A beat passed between us.
Then, without hesitation, she reached forward and gently tucked a fresh sprig of lavender behind my ear. "There. That's better."
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but a familiar voice broke the quiet.
"You're both so obvious it's almost embarrassing," Diana said, strolling up behind us with her usual calm authority, arms crossed, expression amused.
"Jealous?" Lillian asked without missing a beat.
"Not at all," Diana replied smoothly. "I've had my moment. Now I'm here to reclaim my time."
I groaned softly. "You two are going to kill me."
Claire arrived not long after, practically jogging through the gates with two drinks in hand. "I brought smoothies!" she announced, handing me one. "And don't worry. I'll protect you from the scary noble girls."
"Scary?" Camille echoed, her voice lilting as she stepped into the garden with her Drama Club cloak draped over one shoulder. "Darling, I'm wounded."
Tessa was the last to arrive, as usual. Quiet and without fanfare, she stepped into the sunlight, nodded once in acknowledgment of the group, and took her usual place beside me on the bench—close enough to offer comfort without ever needing to say a word.
We were all here.
Again.
The garden hummed softly with life around us, and yet it was nothing compared to the hum inside me—the warmth of knowing that somehow, I had become someone worth gathering around.
"What should we plant next?" Claire asked, crouching by the flowerbeds.
"Camille suggested moonflowers last time," I offered. "They bloom at night."
"They're subtle," Camille added. "Quiet. But when they open, it's always worth it."
Diana raised an eyebrow. "You're projecting."
Lillian giggled.
And beside me, Tessa murmured, "Sounds like someone I know."
I flushed—helplessly, completely. And they all saw it. And none of them let me pretend otherwise.
We planted the moonflowers together. Hands covered in soil, sleeves rolled up, laughter bouncing from one end of the garden to the other. At one point, Claire smudged dirt on my nose, and I retaliated by flicking water at her. Camille caught me in the act, and before I knew it, Lillian had wrapped her arms around me from behind, whispering, "You're adorable when you're chaotic."
Tessa handed me a towel in silent solidarity.
Diana just watched, eyes full of something warmer than amusement. Something quieter. Fonder.
That night, back in my dorm, I sat at my desk with a blank page before me.
I'd been trying to write a letter. To who, I wasn't sure—maybe to the version of myself who once believed she didn't deserve this.
Instead, I wrote their names.
Lillian.
Diana.
Camille.
Claire.
Tessa.
And then underneath, in smaller, shakier handwriting:
I'm falling for you. All of you.
And I wasn't afraid anymore.
The
days melted together like spring sunlight on warm stone—quiet, easy, and painfully tender.
Nothing changed.And yet everything did.
We still met in the garden after classes. We still walked the same halls, trained under the same professors, dealt with student council paperwork (mostly Claire procrastinating while Diana scolded), and rehearsed lines for Camille's spring performance. But the air between us was heavier now—not with pressure, but with meaning.
Every glance lingered a little longer.
Every touch was just slightly bolder.
And I noticed things now.
The way Lillian's fingers would absentmindedly trail over mine when we passed each other tools in the garden.The way Diana leaned closer than necessary when going over reports, her voice low and calm but always teasing around the edges.The way Claire's mood lifted when she made me laugh, like my smile was the reward she was after all along.The way Camille always positioned herself behind me during rehearsals, her hand gently resting on my waist as if I might float away without her.And the way Tessa, who spoke the least, always seemed to know when I needed a moment of silence shared with someone who wouldn't try to fill it.
It was maddening.
It was overwhelming.
It was beautiful.
I didn't know how to name it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it.
But I didn't want it to stop.
That's when the spring festival was officially announced.
I should've known the announcement would come with fanfare. Professor Elysia made the announcement during morning assembly, her voice lilting through the magic-sound projection like wind chimes.
"The Spring Festival will be held in two weeks," she said, smiling softly. "It will be open to the public. Please be mindful of guests and prepare accordingly."
Whispers exploded all around me. Excitement. Panic. Outfits. Vendors. Special events.
And somewhere in the middle of it all—buried between students gossiping and event planning—I heard someone whisper:
"Are you going to ask her to the Moonlight Dance?"
That's when it hit me.
The Moonlight Dance.
The final night of the festival. Where students traditionally asked someone they cared about—romantically or otherwise—to spend the evening with them beneath the lights and starlit charm.
It was supposed to be magical. Intimate. Memorable.
I was already doomed.
That evening, I sat on the bench in the garden, too lost in thought to even pretend to prune the flowerbeds. The sun had dipped past the horizon, casting everything in soft orange light. I didn't hear footsteps, but I felt them.
Diana sat beside me without a word.
"Festival," I said eventually, because it was the only thing on my mind.
"I heard," she replied. "Claire's planning some ridiculous Student Council booth involving giant balloons and wind-powered flyers."
That sounded like Claire.
I nodded slowly. "The Moonlight Dance."
Diana hummed, and I could feel the smirk forming even before I turned to look at her. "Worried about who to say yes to?"
I flushed. "I haven't even been asked yet."
"Not yet," she corrected. "But you will be. And you'll have to answer."
The thought sent my heart spinning. "Do I have to answer?"
Diana tilted her head, examining me. "You don't owe anyone an answer you're not ready to give. But Sera…" Her voice softened. "If you want to keep waiting, they'll wait. But if you want something… say it."
I didn't answer.
Couldn't.
She stood after a moment, her hand brushing my shoulder lightly. "Don't be afraid to take the first step, just because you're used to others doing it for you."
Later that night, I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, heart thudding under layers of doubt and fluttering warmth.
Because the truth was, I wanted to be asked.
But maybe—
Just maybe—
I wanted to ask, too.
The following morning, I couldn't stop thinking about what Diana had said.
"Don't be afraid to take the first step, just because you're used to others doing it for you."
I'd always been the one reacting. Blushing when they leaned close. Stammering when they teased. Trying to navigate the chaos they created while pretending it didn't affect me as much as it did.
But maybe it was time to do something different.
Still… the thought of asking someone—any one of them—to the Moonlight Dance made my stomach twist itself into a thousand careful knots.
Who would I even ask?
No. That wasn't the right question.
The real question was—what did I want this time to mean?
I didn't want to play favorites. That was the truth. Because I didn't have a favorite. Each of them had carved out a space in my heart that wasn't competing with the others—it was entirely their own. And no matter how confusing that sounded, I knew it to be true.
What I felt for Lillian wasn't the same as what I felt for Diana. Or Camille. Or Claire. Or Tessa.
And yet, it was still real. Still growing. Still mine.
So if I was going to do this—ask someone to the dance—I had to do it knowing I wasn't closing the door on the others. Just… acknowledging something I was feeling now. Something that had taken root during a quiet night under a blanket of stars and lavender-scented sheets.
By the time afternoon classes ended, I'd made up my mind.
And, of course, fate laughed.
Because I didn't even have time to find Lillian before Claire found me.
"Okay, hear me out," she said, sliding next to me and grabbing my arm. "You, me, and a ridiculous dance number. I already asked Diana to teach me how to waltz—"
"Claire—"
"—but then I realized I'd rather spend the Moonlight Dance with someone who looks as cute flustered as you do," she added with a wink.
I blinked. "Are you…?"
"Asking you?" she grinned. "Yeah. But no pressure! Totally fine if someone else already got there first."
My heart did a flip. She was doing it again—sounding casual while meaning everything.
And before I could answer, Camille appeared beside us, graceful as a falling snowflake. She smiled, eyes flickering with quiet amusement.
"Oh no," Claire said. "Don't tell me you're going to ask her now too."
Camille raised an elegant eyebrow. "Was I supposed to wait?"
"I just got here!"
"Then you were just on time," Camille replied, completely serene. Then her gaze slid to mine. "Sera. Would you honor me with a dance under the moonlight?"
Claire threw her hands in the air. "You're all ridiculous."
I was frozen.
Because I hadn't even gotten to Lillian yet.
Because I could see Diana waiting across the courtyard, pretending to be absorbed in her book but clearly listening.
Because Tessa… Tessa had been sitting beside me in the library just yesterday, her fingers brushing mine under the table, and that single look she gave me said more than words ever could.
I took a shaky breath.
This was too much. And also… exactly what I wanted.
"I need time," I said softly.
Camille nodded, her smile never faltering. "Of course."
Claire squeezed my hand, her energy softer this time. "Hey, I wasn't trying to corner you. Just wanted to be brave about it, you know?"
And in that moment, I realized something important.
They weren't waiting for me to choose. They were just… offering themselves. Hoping. But not demanding.
Not one of them had tried to pressure me.
And so—
That evening, I asked Lillian if she would meet me in the garden.
She arrived in a simple cream blouse and a long skirt that fluttered with the breeze. No pretense. No crown. Just her.
"Hey," I said as she approached.
"Hey," she echoed, eyes soft.
"I…" I hesitated. Then took a breath. "I got asked today. Twice."
A smile tugged at her lips. "Ah."
"I think Diana knows. And if she doesn't already, she will by tomorrow."
"Likely."
"And Tessa…" I shook my head, laughing under my breath. "She doesn't need to ask, does she?"
"No," Lillian murmured. "She just waits. Until you're ready."
I looked up at her. "And you?"
Lillian met my gaze calmly, patiently. "I didn't ask, because I didn't want to make you feel like you had to say yes. I wanted you to ask me—if it was me you wanted."
The breeze stirred the leaves above us. The garden smelled like blooming nightflowers and the faint memory of spring rain.
I reached out, hesitated—then gently took her hand.
"I want to dance with you," I whispered.
Her breath hitched.
"I don't know what it means yet," I added. "I just know that I keep remembering that night in your grandmother's estate. And I don't want it to just be a memory."
Lillian's eyes glistened, just a little. She lifted my hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "Then it won't be."
And just like that—
The Moonlight Dance had a heartbeat. A beginning.
Not an answer.
Not a choice.
But a moment.
And sometimes, a single moment is where love begins to bloom for real.