The lecture ended without ceremony.
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Voices rose.
Ling closed her notebook with precise finality and stood. No glance. No pause.
Rhea noticed immediately.
She turned toward Ling, forcing lightness into her voice. "Hey."
Ling slung her bag over her shoulder.
Didn't answer.
Rhea stood too, stepping into Ling's path. "You're really going to stay mad over that?"
Ling's eyes flicked to her—cold, controlled.
"This isn't a game," Ling said quietly.
Rhea exhaled sharply, frustration leaking through. "You're acting like I accused you of something horrible."
Ling didn't respond.
That silence—measured, deliberate—cut deeper than anger.
Rhea laughed then. Not amused. Defensive. Mocking.
"Wow," she said. "So this is what happens when I say one thing you don't like?"
Ling's jaw tightened.
Behind them, Rina muttered, "This is going badly."
That was when Roin appeared.
Too smooth. Too timed.
"Coffee?" Roin asked Rhea casually, like he'd always been part of this space. "You said you might."
Ling went completely still.
Rhea looked at Roin, then back at Ling.
She waited.
Ling didn't react.
Didn't claim.
Didn't stop it.
Something sharp twisted in Rhea's chest.
She turned fully toward Ling now, voice edged. "Shall we?"
Still nothing.
Ling's gaze was distant, unreadable—like she'd already stepped back behind a wall.
Rhea's patience snapped.
"Or," she added, voice louder than she meant it to be, "otherwise I'll go with him."
That did it.
Ling's hand tightened around her notebook.
Then—without warning—she threw it down onto the desk.
The sound cracked through the room.
Heads turned.
Ling didn't look at Rhea.
She turned and walked out.
No word. No warning. No backward glance.
The door swung shut behind her.
Silence rushed in after.
Rhea stood frozen.
Something inside her dropped hard.
Zifa stared at her, expression sharp. "Why would you say that?"
Rhea didn't answer.
Her chest burned.
Anger surged—but it had nowhere to go except inward.
She laughed again, too loud, too brittle. "Unbelievable."
Roin hesitated. "Rhea—"
She rounded on him instantly. "Not now."
He backed off.
Her hands trembled as she shoved her phone into her bag.
Hurt came crashing in after the anger—hot, humiliating.
She hadn't meant it like that.
She hadn't meant to threaten.
She'd wanted a reaction.
Any reaction.
Instead, Ling had chosen absence.
Rhea swallowed hard, blinking fast.
"She always does this," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Acts like she's above it."
Zifa didn't soften. "No. She acts like she's done playing."
That landed.
Rhea's jaw clenched.
Frustration twisted into something ugly—self-directed, helpless.
She turned away abruptly. "I'm going to class."
Rina watched her go, expression grim. "She's hurt."
Jian nodded. "And Ling's worse."
Outside, the corridor echoed with Ling's footsteps—controlled, fast, unbroken.
Inside, Rhea pressed her palm flat against her sternum, breathing through the ache she refused to name.
For the first time that day, she didn't feel defiant.
She felt small.
And angry at herself for it.
Her steps were sharp, uneven, driven more by anger than direction. Roin matched her pace easily, saying nothing—smart enough to wait.
They crossed the courtyard, the noise of campus fading behind them.
Only when they reached the café did Roin speak.
"You okay?"
Rhea laughed under her breath. "Do I look okay?"
She pushed the door open and walked straight in.
The place smelled like coffee and sugar and quiet conversations—too normal for the storm in her chest.
They took a table near the window.
Rhea dropped into the chair, arms crossed tight, staring at nothing.
Roin ordered without asking. "Black coffee. Extra sugar."
She didn't correct him.
That annoyed her too.
Across campus, Ling was nowhere near the café.
She didn't know.
She didn't look.
She didn't ask.
She was moving through her own controlled orbit—phone off, expression sealed, attention locked elsewhere.
Oblivious.
That thought burned.
Rhea drummed her fingers against the table, jaw clenched.
Roin slid the cup toward her when it arrived. "You don't have to prove anything to her."
Rhea's head snapped up. "I'm not proving anything."
Roin raised his hands lightly. "Okay. I just meant—"
"I said I'm fine," Rhea cut in.
She took a sip. It was too hot.
She welcomed the sting.
Silence stretched.
Outside the window, students passed, laughing, living.
Rhea's reflection stared back at her in the glass—eyes bright with unshed frustration.
She hated this.
Hated feeling reactive.
Hated that Ling could walk away and still occupy every inch of her mind.
Roin leaned back, studying her. "You know, some people don't know how to argue without controlling the situation."
Rhea stiffened.
"That's not fair," she said automatically.
Roin shrugged. "Maybe. But you shouldn't have to beg someone to talk to you."
That landed wrong.
Too close to the insecurity she was trying to bury.
She said. "I didn't beg."
"I didn't say you did."
But thought lingered.
Why did Ling's silence hurt more than her anger ever had?
She pulled out her phone.
No messages.
Of course not.
Ling didn't chase.
That was her thing.
Rhea stared at the blank screen, throat tight.
Roin watched her, expression unreadable.
He smiled faintly—not pleased, not kind.
Just patient.
And far across campus, Ling remained unaware—focused elsewhere, unaware that Rhea's anger had already carried her somewhere she didn't actually want to be.
Ling found the squad near the sports block.
Too quickly.
Too focused.
Her steps were controlled, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. Anyone who knew her could see it—something was wrong.
Rina noticed first.
Ling stopped in front of them. "Where's Rhea?"
Direct. No greeting.
Jian exchanged a glance with Rina. Zifa's eyes sharpened immediately.
"She didn't come with you?" Ling asked, already knowing the answer.
Rina shrugged too casually. "Maybe she went to class?"
Ling's gaze locked onto her. "She doesn't skip her schedule."
Rowen jumped in, light tone forced. "Unless she's avoiding certain people."
Ling ignored him.
"She answer her phone?" Ling asked.
Zifa shook her head slowly. "Haven't checked."
A lie.
Ling's jaw tightened. "Check."
Rina pulled her phone out, tapping the screen theatrically. "Nothing. Maybe she's in the library?"
Ling watched her hands.
Too steady.
"She doesn't go to the library after lectures," Ling said flatly. "She goes for coffee."
The air shifted.