The coat wrapped around us was warm—but it was more than that. It was comforting. Protective. Tessa didn't say another word after that, and neither did I. We simply stood beneath the stars, surrounded by moonflowers, the breeze whispering through the petals like it knew we were holding something delicate between us.
She didn't ask for anything.
She didn't lean in for a kiss or hold me tighter than necessary.
She just stood there—close, steady, and unwavering—like she always had. And I knew, with the kind of quiet certainty that didn't require proof, that this was her version of a confession.
And I had accepted it.
When we finally parted ways for the night, her coat still lingering with her warmth as I walked back to my dorm, I found my thoughts drifting not with guilt or pressure, but something else.
A sense of... possibility.
I opened my door to find a note left on my desk.
I recognized the handwriting immediately—elegant, deliberate.
Diana.
"You should visit the rooftop tomorrow after your garden duties. There's something I want to show you."—D.
I didn't know what she meant, but I could already feel the smirk behind the ink. She always had a flair for dramatics when she wasn't playing the calm, collected vice president. I tucked the note away and smiled to myself.
I was being pulled in a thousand directions—but none of them felt wrong.
It was like each path led back to the same place: a truth I hadn't been ready to face before.
Love doesn't have to be singular.
Not when it's this complicated. This real.
The next day came quickly. The garden club gathered after lunch—Lillian already waist-deep in lavender pruning while Claire somehow managed to uproot a whole section of tulips by accident.
"I thought they were weeds!" Claire cried.
"They were labeled," Tessa said flatly, watching from the shade.
"I can't be expected to read when I'm this cute," Claire said, holding up the ruined bundle.
"I'm going to strangle her," I muttered, but I was already walking over to help, and my heart was far too fond to follow through with the threat.
"I'll fix it! I swear!" Claire grinned as I knelt beside her. "I'll plant two rows! Maybe even write a poem about the tulips. 'Ode to My Shameful Hands'—"
"Stop talking and start digging," I said, biting back a laugh.
Across the field, Lillian looked up and caught my eye. She didn't say anything—but her smile said everything.
Later, when the sun dipped low, I remembered Diana's note.
So I climbed the stairs to the rooftop—an old, quiet spot rarely visited. The evening air was crisp and clear, the sky blushing with twilight hues. Diana stood at the edge of the terrace, her arms behind her back, the breeze playing with her golden hair.
"You came," she said without turning.
"You asked," I replied.
She turned to me then, smiling—not the usual smirk, not the teasing twist of lips I had grown so used to.
Something gentler.
Softer.
She held up a charm lantern—different from the ones at the festival. This one glowed with a soft green hue and hovered like a jellyfish caught mid-motion. Inside it, a small illusion played: a slow projection of the Moonlight Dance, captured in fleeting frames. It was us—dancing beneath the crystal tree, the lights swirling around us, my smile barely visible and shy.
"I had it made," she said, stepping closer, her voice unusually quiet. "I wanted to remember the night without crowd noise. Without the rest of the world."
I swallowed, the image flickering softly between us.
"You could've just asked for a painting," I said, trying to mask the flutter in my chest.
Diana chuckled. "I wanted a memory, not a performance."
She stepped close enough that I could feel the brush of her magic in the air. Wind and healing, subtle and intimate.
"Sera," she murmured, brushing her fingers lightly along my sleeve, "I won't play fair. I never said I would."
"I know."
"But I'll never lie to you either. So here it is: I want to win you. I want you to choose me."
The wind picked up, tugging at the strands of my hair.
I looked up at her, heart pounding.
"But," she added softly, her hand falling away, "I'll wait for your heart to catch up to mine. No matter how long it takes."
I stood there frozen.
Then I whispered, "You already have a piece of it."
Her eyes widened just slightly.
"That's all I can give right now," I said. "But it's not nothing."
"No," she said, smile curling slow and proud. "It's everything."
The lantern between us flickered and settled into stillness. The illusion paused on one frame—her hand in mine, our silhouettes against the bloom of moonlight.
We stayed like that for a long time, watching the magic pulse between us.
Tomorrow would come with new chaos.
Camille would likely pull me into a secret Drama Club rehearsal for an "accidental confession scene." Claire would try to build something that exploded. Lillian would offer me another flower, another moment of light. Tessa would walk beside me, silent and constant.
But tonight?
Tonight was Diana's.
And I had no regrets.
The stars were just beginning to dot the sky when I finally descended from the rooftop. The charm lantern Diana gave me floated gently beside me, tethered to a silvery thread of wind magic that shimmered like moonlight. It pulsed with quiet energy, and I couldn't stop glancing at the paused image within—our frozen moment beneath the crystal tree.
It felt unreal.
All of this did.
The way they looked at me, spoke to me, reached for me in so many different ways. And yet, each gesture felt honest. Earned. Never forced.
I hadn't made a decision.
But I was allowing myself to feel. To love.
And maybe that was more important than choosing right now.
By the time I returned to my dorm, I found something waiting for me on my pillow. A box—neatly tied with deep red ribbon. My name written in clean, elegant handwriting across a card.
Camille.
I sat down slowly, carefully lifting the lid.
Inside was a small crystal sculpture—delicate and precise. Two intertwined roses, carved from ice and reinforced with a slow-fading enchantment to keep it from melting. One bloom shimmered silver, the other faintly blue. Beneath it, a folded note.
I opened it with trembling fingers.
"For when words fail but feelings linger.
You don't have to answer.
Just keep it somewhere safe."_
—Camille
I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I let it go in one long, shaking exhale.
They were each giving me something. Not grand gestures. Not ultimatums.
Pieces of themselves.
And they were trusting me with those pieces—even knowing I couldn't return all of them yet.
I tucked the sculpture gently onto my shelf, next to the flower Tessa gave me and the pressed petal from Lillian's lavender. My desk was beginning to look like a shrine to affection.
To my surprise, my heart didn't feel heavy.
It felt… full.
The next morning was cloudy, the sky painted in soft gray with faint hints of rain. I bundled up and made my way through the courtyard, umbrella in hand. As I stepped toward the garden for morning club duties, I noticed someone already sitting beneath the arbor, waiting on the bench.
Claire.
Her violet eyes lit up the moment she saw me, and she raised a hand with her usual wide grin.
"You're early," I said as I approached.
She held up a paper bag. "I brought snacks."
Of course she did.
I sat beside her, and for a while we just listened to the rain begin to patter against the roof of the arbor. The air smelled like wet earth and jasmine. Claire unwrapped a croissant and broke off a piece, handing it to me without a word.
"Did you sleep okay?" she asked after a moment.
"Yeah," I said, voice softer than usual. "Better than I thought I would."
"Good," she said, her tone light but not unserious. "Because I had a dream last night that you ran away and left a note saying 'Too many girls, not enough emotional stamina.'"
I choked on my bite of croissant.
"Claire!"
She laughed, and the sound was bright and alive. "What? It's a fair fear!"
I wiped my mouth, still wheezing. "I'm not going to run."
"Yeah," she said, her voice suddenly softer. "I know."
We sat quietly again, the rain creating a gentle rhythm.
Then Claire said, almost too casually, "You know I'm not good at being patient. I say things I shouldn't. I act before I think."
"You're not as reckless as you think you are," I said.
She smiled at that, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I'm not asking for anything," she said. "I just wanted to say… thanks. For letting me be part of this. Even if I'm the chaos gremlin of the group."
"You're not," I whispered, reaching over and taking her hand. "You're the heart of it."
Her fingers tightened around mine just slightly.
And then—true to Claire fashion—she leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my cheek, quick and impulsive.
"I'm counting that as my moment," she said with a wink, standing up and brushing off her skirt. "You're not getting out of it."
And with that, she skipped off into the drizzle, leaving me sitting there with the scent of croissant and rain and a cheek still burning from her kiss.
I laughed softly to myself, eyes following her fading figure.
One by one, they were all claiming pieces of me.
And I—without meaning to—was giving those pieces freely.
Not out of obligation.
But out of something deeper.
Something real.
And whatever came next…
I was finally ready to face it.