Rain tapped the windows like quiet fingers. The gray sky blurred the campus in muted tones, making the world feel distant.
But inside the café, warm and amber-lit, Elise sat across from Ren, a half-empty latte between them.
She was laughing.
Softly. Not like before—not that sharp, mirthless cackle she used to use to claim space. This was quieter. Measured.
Ren smiled. Just a little.
They weren't touching. They never did.
But people noticed the way Elise leaned forward now, how she listened to his words with real attention. Or the illusion of it.
Lira watched from the mezzanine above, a forgotten book open in her lap.
They looked like a scene from a drama.
Perfect lighting.
Perfect tension.
Except Lira's chest ached with something heavy and sick.
She hadn't spoken much to Ren all week. He answered her messages. Briefly. Politely. But that effortless rhythm they used to share—the constant ping-pong of thoughts and ideas—was gone.
She didn't know how to ask what had changed without sounding possessive.
Or worse, paranoid.
She watched Elise tilt her head, tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't do it for effect, not obviously.
But it was calculated. Everything about Elise had become a delicate performance.
And Ren?
Ren didn't stop her.
After their coffee, they walked the campus trail under one umbrella. Elise held it. Ren didn't object.
Lira couldn't stop watching them from a distance.
Later that evening, she cornered Ren behind the theater wing, where they used to share snacks between classes.
"You and Elise," she said without preamble. "What's going on?"
Ren blinked, surprised. "We're... talking. Why?"
Lira's jaw tightened. "Because you didn't used to spend this much time with her."
He studied her for a moment. "She's trying," he said. "I'm giving her that space. That's all."
"That's all?"
Ren nodded. But there was a pause.
Lira noticed.
"She's not what you think," Lira said softly. "She doesn't change. She adapts. There's a difference."
Ren didn't argue.
But he didn't agree either.
Instead, he looked away, toward the darkening sky.
"Maybe," he said. "But even people who adapt can grow. Can't they?"
Lira didn't answer.
She just turned and walked away.
Her silence said more than words.
…
Elise watched Lira leave from the other side of the building. She hadn't meant to overhear. Not exactly. But she knew where Lira would go when the unease got too loud.
And she knew Ren would follow.
She touched the railing beside her, then glanced at her phone.
A new notification from a private forum popped up. An anonymous thread.
"Queen Bee Falls—Can Redemption Ever Be Real?"
She opened it. Scrolled.
The comments were brutal.
People still hated her.
Still remembered.
Ren's name appeared once.
She's cozying up to that Mewtuber guy now. Smart. Big audience. Rebrand via association.
Elise closed the app.
Slid the phone into her bag.
Then she looked up at the sky—gray, endless.
The same sky Lira had walked beneath.
The same sky Ren stared at in silence.
Elise smiled to herself.
Small.
Measured.
Not fake.
But not honest either.
Just enough.
Because she didn't need forgiveness.
She needed an ending.
And Ren?
He was the perfect way to write it.
…
The tension snapped on a Thursday.
It started with a brush of fingers.
Then a casual lean into Ren's space.
A hand on his arm as Elise laughed, her voice carrying through the quad. Students glanced up, some smiled, some watched with unreadable expressions.
Ren didn't move away. Didn't shift. Just sipped from his coffee and let her linger.
It escalated.
In the student lounge, Elise sat beside him on the couch. Close—closer than necessary. Her thigh against his.
When she leaned forward to show him something on her phone, her shoulder pressed into his chest, her head tilted up just so.
Ren didn't stop her.
He didn't reciprocate either, not obviously.
But he let her stay.
And that was enough.
Lira saw it from the opposite corner of the room.
Saw the way Elise tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear again, how her fingers brushed Ren's jaw in a gesture that looked accidental but was anything but.
And then she laughed.
Lira's book snapped shut.
No one noticed.
No one cared.
She stood, walked across the lounge with quiet steps, and stopped in front of them.
Elise looked up first, her smile freezing in place.
Ren blinked.
"Can we talk?" Lira asked, eyes on Ren.
He hesitated. "Sure."
Elise's fingers tightened slightly around the phone in her lap.
Lira led him outside, around the side of the building, to the quiet spot where they used to sit under the trees.
No one followed. The cold wind swirled dry leaves at their feet.
She turned to him, eyes wide with something he hadn't seen in weeks.
Desperation.
"You're letting her do it," she said.
Ren frowned. "Do what?"
"This. All of this. She's crawling back into people's good graces, and you're handing her the rope."
"Lira—"
"She touches you. She laughs like nothing happened. And you just sit there."
He looked away. "She's trying."
"No, she's performing," Lira snapped. "You of all people should see it."
The silence stretched.
Her voice cracked. "Why are you letting her take you?"
Ren's expression didn't change.
"I'm not anyone's to take," he said bluntly and somewhat coldly.
That hurt more than it should have.
"You were mine," she whispered. "You were my friend. My person."
He looked at her then. Not angry. Not cold.
But distant.
"I still am. But this… anger, Lira—it's not you."
She laughed bitterly. "No. I guess it's not. But maybe it should've been. Maybe I should've screamed sooner. Fought back harder. Instead of sitting in silence while she buried me."
A group of students passed nearby. One of them glanced over.
And suddenly Lira felt it—the weight of watching eyes.
She looked unhinged.
They'd see her now as jealous. Possessive. Petty.
And Elise?
She'd be the girl trying to change.
The girl Ren smiled at.
Lira turned away, fists clenched. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Ren didn't follow when she left.
He just stood there, under the rustling branches, staring at the place where she'd been.
…
Later that evening, Elise sat in her room, reading the new thread.
"Drama Queen Lira—Jealous Meltdown?"
Screenshots. Out-of-context quotes. A blurry photo of her and Ren talking outside.
The comments weren't kind.
But they weren't about Elise.
For the first time in a long while—
She wasn't the villain.
She smiled, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.
And tucked the phone away.
Outside, rain began to fall again.
But this time, it sounded like applause.