MK walked beside Vivian toward their designated cells, her footsteps automatic, her mind far away.
She hadn't spoken since the confrontation. Words felt useless now, too late to matter. Shriya's face kept replaying in her head—not the anger, not the punches, but the hope. That fragile, foolish hope in Shriya's eyes when MK had been forced to choose. And how it had hollowed out in a single breath when MK hadn't chosen her.
That image clung to MK like a bruise she couldn't stop pressing.
Vivian noticed her silence.
She followed MK's gaze as it drifted aimlessly down the corridor—and then she saw her.
Shriya.
She was being escorted toward them by two uniformed guards, her posture straight, her expression unreadable. Not defiant. Not broken. Just… distant. As if she had already stepped out of this place mentally, leaving the rest behind.
Something sharp sparked inside Vivian.
Before MK could react, Vivian grabbed her wrist and pulled her hard against the wall. The suddenness knocked the breath from MK's lungs. Vivian leaned in and kissed her—deliberate, possessive, lingering.
MK froze.
Her body locked in place, mind lagging seconds behind reality. She was still drowning in regret, still replaying her failure, and now there were lips on hers, hands bracing against the wall, heat where she felt nothing but shock.
She tried to push Vivian away.
The wall behind her offered no room, trapping her between cold stone and unwanted closeness. To anyone watching, it must have looked intimate—like a moment stolen in desperation, like passion.
It wasn't.
MK didn't even have time to process what was happening before she saw Shriya directly in front of her.
Shriya was walking toward them.
MK's heart slammed violently against her ribs.
She locked eyes with her instinctively, silently begging her to look closer, to see past the illusion. To see that this wasn't her choice.
But Shriya didn't pause.
She didn't even spare them a second glance.
Her eyes flicked away as if MK wasn't there at all. As if whatever connection they'd shared had already been filed away as something finished.
She walked past them.
"Shrii—wait!"
MK tore herself free and rushed forward, panic bleeding into her voice. "It's not what it looked like—she kissed me, I—I—"
Shriya didn't slow.
She didn't turn.
She didn't acknowledge MK's existence in any way.
The words died in MK's throat as Shriya continued walking, her steps steady, controlled. The guards flanking her stopped at the gate and raised their hands in salute.
MK faltered.
The guards saluted again—this time as Shriya passed through the exit.
The sound echoed.
The corridor fell unnaturally silent.
Everyone had seen it. The respect. The precision. The weight behind that gesture.
Those who had mocked Shriya. Those who had whispered about her. Those who had treated her like something disposable—
They shivered.
"Michelle Kent."
MK barely reacted when her name was called.
"Pack your belongings. Your release letter is ready."
She stared forward, unblinking. She felt hollow, numb, as if she'd been drained of blood. She was certain that if someone cut her open right now, she wouldn't bleed.
MK gathered the few things she owned—the small, meaningless objects she'd once called hers. She was escorted out the same way Shriya had been.
No cuffs.
Just guards.
There was no salute this time.
She noticed.
Rumors spread faster than footsteps.
By the time they reached the exit, everyone knew: Shriya was leaving to join the army. She was going to serve. To protect. That was why the guards had saluted her.
Respect wasn't given lightly here.
Outside, Shriya inhaled deeply, breathing in freedom like it might vanish if she didn't claim it fast enough. Her family was waiting—her mother, her father, and one of her brothers. The absence of the other barely registered; she assumed he was busy.
"Aren't you waiting for MK?" her mother asked gently. "She'll be released shortly. You should invite her to come with us."
"No," Shriya said immediately. "Let's go."
A pause.
"You know," her father said carefully, "we know about you and her."
Shriya blinked. "You do?"
"Yes," Scarlet said softly. "Jesse told us everything. Even about MK choosing to come here for you."
"Oh."
Shriya exhaled shakily. "There is no us anymore. Let's go. And… thank you for getting her out. The guilt was starting to eat me alive."
"Did you two fight?" Scarlet asked.
"No. Not really." Shriya hesitated, fingers curling. "I just… can we leave? I'll explain later. Before I go."
"You still have a week," her father reminded her.
"I'll leave early," Shriya said, turning toward the window. "Tomorrow, maybe."
Her eyes scanned the area unconsciously.
And there—
MK.
Standing alone.
The irony almost made her laugh.
Meanwhile, MK had run.
She had rushed outside, heart hammering, refusing to accept this ending. She couldn't let Shriya leave—not like this, not with everything unsaid.
But when she arrived, it was too late.
Only Jesse, Ruth, and Wes stood waiting for her.
"MK!" Ruth rushed forward, pulling her into a fierce hug.
"What were you thinking?" Ruth scolded immediately.
"Don't ask for your card back," Wes added dryly. "If I'd known you'd be out this soon, I would've spent it all."
"Good to see you," Jesse said, eyeing her critically. "You look awful."
One scolded. One complained. One teased.
MK barely registered any of it.
She sat silently in the car as they drove away, staring out the window. The city blurred past, meaningless.
She imagined a different version of today.
If she had chosen Shriya that morning… right now she would be sitting beside her, arms tangled, laughter spilling between them. They would be celebrating their freedom together, whispering promises, remembering each other.
It would have been unforgettable.
Magical.
Instead, MK sat alone.
And the weight of her decision settled fully into her chest—heavy, permanent, unforgiving.